Category: delicious

What choo lookin’ at??

Sex. Word.

Uw wann xtrar chilli sauwse innit?

U wan xtrar chilli sauwse innit?


you’d think.

Shouldn’t artificial intelligence get smarter? Or at least the people who program such ‘intelligence’ be a bit smarter themselves?

What do I speak of at this precipice of understanding? Well, these sort of spammy ‘comments’.

From: bludeeebluvblu@lalalalalalaicanthearyoudotcom

‘I like your roughly motivational place of duty you give rise to at this juncture.’

Really, I roughly motivate your place of duty? And you like it? What the stinking fuck does that even mean? Let’s consult Mr. Thesaurus and see if we can’t spice up this lovely string of nonsense with a bit of humour…how about next time you try this Mister Spam Robot Man?

‘I desire your scratchy inspiration house of business you give me an erection to at this moment.’

See what I did there? It’s all about the genitals, my friend. Get straight to the point. You want my scratchy house of business with your erection RIGHT NOW, there’s no sense in beating ‘round the bush, really.


From: iwanttoeatyourjamdonutinthesunshine@dolphinpoodotcom

‘Seems to facilitate lots of relations benefited from it. Cheers and credit.enjoyed.’

Oh, no dear. No need to play coy now that we’re friends! Just say what you mean, you juicy tart. Try this…

‘It seriously got me loads of ass, your blog about food that looks like shit! I can’t thank you enough! You are the reason I got laid. WHEEEEEEEEEEE! PENISBUMVAGINA!’


I believe with these two short sentences have created not only a more exciting spambot but a new vernacular for those that wish to Pub ‘n Hump©. Cos everyone wants to sound Victorian, it’s just wicked proper and shit. Woo, Victorian!

Picture 3[1]


 Cloris was all about the Cleveland Steamer. Toot toot!




Cemetery cat…trice.



Be damned!

you know you’ve bought the extended warranty when…

Farting becomes less an embarrassment and more an all out hilarity producing olfactory assault.  First person to leave the room loses.  Extra points to the person who can best impersonate their favourite animal or successfully poot the closing notes of the 1812 Overture.


The bathroom door never closes…



Just can’t get enough…

I’m not even trying to pretty this one up.  It looks like sick.

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