My Sect Secrets - Old Knudsen

In November of 98 I got mixed up with some very strange peeple. I joined what I thought was a cockfighting ring of retired merchant semen, they were real odd balls, hence me thinking it was a version of the very ghey Masons. It turned out to be something called the Order of Old War Deserters. I don't expect many of you to have heard of it, they are very secret and their location can only be deciphered by watching re-runs of Gilligan and the Professor backwards. I caught the eye of a young man named Ian Paisley who soon went on to call himself the King of Eyeland and took over the moniker of the worlds most razor-slashed man, Jimmie the ugly Bastard, a nasty piece of haggis shit with more tram lines than Belgium. Well it was more of a stage name after his army boxing career that so nearly took off if it hadn't been for the fact that he, like me, is a cowardly cunt.

The Ghey Order was into gray magic, a version of black magic, but no darkies were allowed. Don't get me started on those darkies....... Gray magic enlarges a mans penis and increases the chances of dispatching semenal elementals to kill your enemy. The man-chicks go nuts for that sort of thing, in fact that's where I met my second husband Alfredo. No wait, that was actually my third husband, I get so confused, sometimes I think I have a sign on me forehead that only weemen and the odd ghey can see that says,"use my face for sex", now I'm not complaining, did ya hear me complain? No, just so ya know, after Old Knudsen gets his there's none of that cuddlin shite going on, it's a long stinky phart and I'm straight to sleep and you had better make me a cup of tea before you leave in the morning. Don't think I'm a playa, (I'm not dead yet I can use that word) I consider myself a bit of a romantic, not only will I make sure that the bed sheets were washed that month I always have one of them blue tablets to drop into the toilet's water tank to turn the water blue, I know what other ghey men like, anyway why the fuck am I giving away my secrets of seduction?

Back to what I was almost talking about, Paisley was a junkie arsehole, no wonder he saw Spirits and Demons with the amount of drugs he took, me on the other hand am the real thing my Spirit guide on the other side, Chief Eagle Droppings, told me to stop banging Paisley's wife or get "fuckin kneecapped". My other Spirit guide, Chief Hom Osexual,  told me to give him a last seeing to as the poor dude would miss me. I'm a sucker for a sob story, as well as a well hung cock, but my other Spirit guide, Chief Brown Eye, said " thankyou for taking the time to visit my astral plane and taking a shit on my porcelain" the fucker, don't you just hate it when they say that?

The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing ... so you lot should be on fcuking camels following a star.
You can tell more about a person by what he says about others than you can by what others say about him..... Everyone says Old Knudsen is so funny and lovely, he thinks you lot are cunts..... not sure if that says anything about Old Knudsen other than being a good judge of character.
Going to church doesn’t make you a Christian, anymore than standing in yer garage makes you a Volkswagon.... Old Knudsen made a sandwich once, yer Ma was the meat.

Pay no mind to those who talk behind your back because that simply means you’re two steps ahead..... Ka - Chow! 

Ok the skeptical cunts amongst you will say its all coincidence, statistics show that every 23 minutes a Canadian will do an Intershed search for ghey or bisexual dirty words, so if you are a durty old seal clubber that gets your jollies off by ogling porn, the chances are you'll get a hit from a dumbass (why are they such dirty shites?) well ok, my clever use of  Ontario Rimjob in one of my titles did catch someone. :::Waves at the lezzer.:::

Just so you know, I accepted Jesus as my personal trainer so no more late night sex magick rites followed by a sacrifice and a barbeque, oh no,at 10 pm its a cup of Bovril followed by 12 beers then its off to bed for me until I wake up in a pool of piss or vomit (sometimes both) then I get up and have a good blog to clear my system.

Old Deserter

When my grandson Gavin was a young pup I sat him on my knee and he asked,"what is that hard thing in your pocket Grandpa?" No, wishful thinking on my part methinks... he said "what did you do during the war Grandpa?" what a cute little inquiring mind he had. "Well I hid from the authorities until the fighting was over my boy, but then I resurfaced from under the outside lavvie and I pretended to have killed loads of Germans, Japs, Italians, ghey French and Americans, especially Americans, the horrible cunts, and I raped villagers and burned their homes to the ground."

It was a few weeks before I was allowed to see Gavin again due to some bad dreams he kept having.

Called 'The Great War' but I've seen better on the telly, in my own mind I was off on me own sneaking into enemy camps and quietly killing and scalping every other sleeping man to really freak them out. They called me 'The Piss Shadow' as all that proved I was there besides the hairless corpses and some cigarette butts was the faint smell of piss in the air.

It was 3 weeks since the war had finished that I believed it was finally over, a well hung young soldier who was stuck up me and covering my rear flanks in man-fat was smacking me like a bitch with a newspaper who convinced me. I thought about all of those soldiers I had killed mistakenly during a time of peace and thought to myself 'I could have got more damn-it'.

War is hell and plays havoc with yer skin. Hiding beneath the outdoor shitter can be dark and dank and tends to turn the skin quite grey. I have nothing but respect for those who sign up to serve their cuntry and do so with honour, those who sign up with the idea of getting money for college are too dumb to be going to college but if they step up to the plate and do their job well they also earn my respect.

Giving yer life to defeat evil is the noblest of causes and many do so and never have their stories told or having to live half a life due to disabilities caused by war should give you a free comfortable ride for the rest of yer life, a country should look after it's heroes. It should also string up the deserters by the neck for their cowardice, and I for one would look good in a diamante noose around my long pencil neck.

I believe that war is a necessary evil. Sometimes you have no choice but to go and wipe out some nation a little bit. I'm thinking Canada for one... Nothing there but hairy legged, rapidly ageing bisexual female (but only just) bloggers who write shite instead of working for a living.

Imagine serving in a war that you don't agree with, sure its not a soldier's place to have an opinion on certain things they just need to do their job. Shoot first, rob corpses, shit on the ground, run like fuck back to the free drugs that make you kill innocent ghey men who accidently backed on to one another amidst the yellowing clouds of mustard gas. Never did me any har..har..har..harm.

The wars of terror are fucking stupid and a waste of ghey life. The IRA bombed London plenty of times but Ireland was never invaded for it in case the Guinness factory got hit and every coont was left with that weak Budweiser piss to get drunk on. May ghod save the protestant King Sir Gerry of Belfast for his connections at No 10.

Its all just to get a permanent foothold in the middle east all so very passive aggressive. Russia couldn't invade Afghanistan and the Yanks are in no shape or form tougher than them, hence giving it over to the U.N. I think about those I have pretended to serve with and those still out there. The ghosts of the past and present will still be around. I just want to say thank you and bless them all from the safety of my dugout underneath the backyard crapper.