'TIS A HARD LIFE FLOGGING AWAY AT DA BLOG. ONE DOEST ENCOUNTER A HOLE HOIST OF VARICATORY PHENOMENA & DUDES SO 'TIS WITH GREAT PER-LEISURE DAT WE SHARE SOME POSITIVE FEEDBAG WID Y'ALL. 2, 3, 4!
Dear Holey Ones,
Simon here. I just had to write. Your blog changed my life. I was in a dead-end job, in a dead-end life with no one to love when suddenly I found you.
I thought I would die laughing. Each entry funnier than the previous one. You guys are true whack jobs who can't resist an opportunity to play with your wangers but I love you both to bits!
Now everywhere I go I have a permanent smile on my face as I think of you. Thank you so much!
Love
Simon
PS I am now happily married with twins on the way and a house in the country bequeathed by my long-lost Aunty Rosie, who died under mysterious circumstances but she was still able to sign the will, hahaha.
PPS Bring back Dotty!
**********************
Dear Bird & Buff!
I read your blog piece You're Fired on a recommendation and I laughed so much, I was violently sick. I may have to have my gall bladder removed now. Whatever. Thanks, guys. Your humour is out there. Have you thought of writing an opera?
Reggie Bluetooth-Forsyth
*****************
Dear Funny Ones,
You have shown me the way. No longer will I waste my time surfing for porn and Britney memorabilia. I want to laugh and I want it now! You're bookmarked, dudes!
D2
******************
I stood on railing of bridge and had feelings for Pubistan and thought, no, life is worth as long as Turds (sic.) of Bird & Buffalo live. I start fan club for every fans in Xhong Donger.
Kim il XXX
*****************
Darling Birdy & Buffy, hello!
Greetings from Russia. We love you. You like women? Come.
Boris
xxx
****************
You give good blog!
A Non
x
****************
THANKS, DUDES. WE OBLIGE TO AIM. NEVER KNOWLINGLY REGRESSED. I'LL TAKE TWO. WHO'S YOUR BLOGGY? WHO'S YOUR BLOGGY?! ARF, ARF!
Showing posts with label Russian literature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Russian literature. Show all posts
Monday, June 18, 2007
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
THE DARK ONE & FYODOR, PAGE 187
WATSON: I say, Holmes.
HOLMES: Yes, Watson?
WATSON: Any more news on the Dark One?
HOLMES: Well, my wacky quacky, it is most curious that you should mention it, because but half an hour ago I discovered a photo of her when she was in the buxom flame of her youth.
WATSON: But Holmes, I thought you'd burnt all those old photos.
HOLMES: This particular photograph was deputising as a bookmark in Dostoyevsky's Crime And Punishment.
WATSON: But why on earth, pray, were you poking around in Fyodor's masterpiece?
HOLMES: I was in philosophical mood with the coming of the equinox and I was trying to remember a certain profundity that I had encountered in that most excellent of literary works.
WATSON: Good Lord! And did you find it, old man?
HOLMES: Indeed I did, Botty Watty. It was bookmarked with the Dark One's photo at the very spot.
WATSON: And what is this profundity that led you there, may I enquire?
HOLMES: "Talk nonsense, but talk your nonsense and I shall kiss you for it. To go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's."
WATSON: Good Lord! Why, that's deeper than Hudders' lemon drizzle cake. Tell me, old man, do you feel terribly upset now that you've found it?
HOLMES: The photo or the quote? I feel neither regret nor sadness for either. Both belong to a past I neither care for nor regard with interest.
WATSON: Oh, really, Holmes, you do tell the most whopping porky pies at times, you know. I can clearly see that you are not yourself. Tell you what, let's go for a stroll in the park and see if we can come upon that Mrs Hester and her fair bosom. It'll take your mind off the remnants.
HOLMES: My dear Watson, when I want titillation I shall settle down with a good book and some Horlicks.
WATSON: Suit yourself, old man. Just trying to help.
HOLMES: Anyway, why did you broach the subject of the Dark One?
WATSON: Oh, well, no reason, really. Well, if you must know Hudders stumbled on a photo of her in my bedside table whilst dusting and all hell has broken loose. A woman scorned...,
HOLMES: Not you as well, Watty? Caught under her spell.
WATSON: 'Fraid so, old chap. What is this monstrous pull she has over the male species of a certain tendency and waywardness?
HOLMES: One favourable glance in one's direction was sufficient to turn one's internal organs into blithering jelly. Most curious. I trust you explained to Hudders that she is of the night and shall never return to our light?
WATSON: I did, Holmes. It seemed to smooth things over some what what what.
HOLMES: And to think that she and I nearly...
WATSON: And she and I...
HOLMES: In the potting shed of all places.
WATSON: In the shrubbery of all places.
HOLMES: With no regard for the gardener.
WATSON: Ditto.
HOLMES: (sighs deeply) What nonsense did we descend to that day, Watson?
WATSON: 'Twas definitely the wrong way. But our way.
HOLMES: But I have no wish to kiss anyone for it.
WATSON: Nor I, old man.
HOLMES: We were but a nanowhisker away from total ruin.
WATSON: Or a threesome even, but permit me to elucidate no further.
HOLMES: Indeed. And that, as Fyodor would say, is the beginning of a new story.
WATSON: Yes, quite.
HOLMES: And we have yet to solve the mystery of the missing one-legged pygmy Doberman and the headless tabby cat on Brewer Street.
WATSON: Point well made, Holmes.
(both hold their respective photo of the Dark One aloft)
WATSON: Into the fire, old thing?
HOLMES: Irrefutably, old bean.
BOTH: Crinkle and burn o Dark One!
WATSON: Crumpet at eleven?
HOLMES: Not half!
HOLMES: Yes, Watson?
WATSON: Any more news on the Dark One?
HOLMES: Well, my wacky quacky, it is most curious that you should mention it, because but half an hour ago I discovered a photo of her when she was in the buxom flame of her youth.
WATSON: But Holmes, I thought you'd burnt all those old photos.
HOLMES: This particular photograph was deputising as a bookmark in Dostoyevsky's Crime And Punishment.
WATSON: But why on earth, pray, were you poking around in Fyodor's masterpiece?
HOLMES: I was in philosophical mood with the coming of the equinox and I was trying to remember a certain profundity that I had encountered in that most excellent of literary works.
WATSON: Good Lord! And did you find it, old man?
HOLMES: Indeed I did, Botty Watty. It was bookmarked with the Dark One's photo at the very spot.
WATSON: And what is this profundity that led you there, may I enquire?
HOLMES: "Talk nonsense, but talk your nonsense and I shall kiss you for it. To go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's."
WATSON: Good Lord! Why, that's deeper than Hudders' lemon drizzle cake. Tell me, old man, do you feel terribly upset now that you've found it?
HOLMES: The photo or the quote? I feel neither regret nor sadness for either. Both belong to a past I neither care for nor regard with interest.
WATSON: Oh, really, Holmes, you do tell the most whopping porky pies at times, you know. I can clearly see that you are not yourself. Tell you what, let's go for a stroll in the park and see if we can come upon that Mrs Hester and her fair bosom. It'll take your mind off the remnants.
HOLMES: My dear Watson, when I want titillation I shall settle down with a good book and some Horlicks.
WATSON: Suit yourself, old man. Just trying to help.
HOLMES: Anyway, why did you broach the subject of the Dark One?
WATSON: Oh, well, no reason, really. Well, if you must know Hudders stumbled on a photo of her in my bedside table whilst dusting and all hell has broken loose. A woman scorned...,
HOLMES: Not you as well, Watty? Caught under her spell.
WATSON: 'Fraid so, old chap. What is this monstrous pull she has over the male species of a certain tendency and waywardness?
HOLMES: One favourable glance in one's direction was sufficient to turn one's internal organs into blithering jelly. Most curious. I trust you explained to Hudders that she is of the night and shall never return to our light?
WATSON: I did, Holmes. It seemed to smooth things over some what what what.
HOLMES: And to think that she and I nearly...
WATSON: And she and I...
HOLMES: In the potting shed of all places.
WATSON: In the shrubbery of all places.
HOLMES: With no regard for the gardener.
WATSON: Ditto.
HOLMES: (sighs deeply) What nonsense did we descend to that day, Watson?
WATSON: 'Twas definitely the wrong way. But our way.
HOLMES: But I have no wish to kiss anyone for it.
WATSON: Nor I, old man.
HOLMES: We were but a nanowhisker away from total ruin.
WATSON: Or a threesome even, but permit me to elucidate no further.
HOLMES: Indeed. And that, as Fyodor would say, is the beginning of a new story.
WATSON: Yes, quite.
HOLMES: And we have yet to solve the mystery of the missing one-legged pygmy Doberman and the headless tabby cat on Brewer Street.
WATSON: Point well made, Holmes.
(both hold their respective photo of the Dark One aloft)
WATSON: Into the fire, old thing?
HOLMES: Irrefutably, old bean.
BOTH: Crinkle and burn o Dark One!
WATSON: Crumpet at eleven?
HOLMES: Not half!
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