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What is this hollowed out creaky cobwebbed shell?
Dear God it's the dusty once hectic front page of JRI and we have neglected it.
Shocking dereliction of duty and due to various clerical errors we haven't got a soul to blame it on but ourselves.
Well, it's time to break out the Hoover and the Pledge, because deep within the duvet a restless malice has stirred and two idle Brummy chancers, have decided that it's time to draw back the Tarpaulin of Torpor and tidy the old place up and see if we can attract some visitors again.
Now of course we are renowned for False dawns, in fact our false Dawns are a big sellers at many a well disguised adult emporiums all over the West Midlands ...with its pliant adjustable juddering anus and the drawstring on the back that gives you vocal encouragements such as, “I've dropped me Doner” and “the Bus is coming...hurry up and shoot yer muck Gaz”....our ergonomically luxurious adult dolls are half the reason we fucked off from this place for the best part of a year.
However due to a dropped bollock in shipping we are out of stock, so we might as well spruce up the website and embark on bugging the arse out of people again with petty and badly punctuated screed, full of seemingly random Capital letters.
Obviously, and we have checked the stats, there is no-one here to read this, but as a shifty oriental once wondered, if a fat bloke writes a front-page article and nobody reads it, is it still unfunny.
The answer is clearly ....yes it is.
So....we shall be filling some bin bags, hosing down the dog shit off the drive and applying a new coat of paint.
Let's be having you.
Thats how we roll.......baby.
No, I ain't got my childhood
Or friends I once did know.
But I still got my voice left,
I can take it anywhere I go.
Hey, hey, so I guess I'm doin' fine.
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