Friday 29 February 2008
Thursday 28 February 2008
Tuesday 26 February 2008
Monday 25 February 2008
Friday 22 February 2008
William James Mercer.
I've just come back from doing the most amazing poo. There was nothing extraordinary about the process. I did what needed to be done, got up to wipe, peered down at my empire ... and fuck me ... I'd only done a poo in the shape of a cock and balls! It had the most amazing definition and attention to detail I've ever seen! It was as if the toilet itself were flashing me a cheeky glimpse of it's beautifully-rendered gentials.
Luckily, I was using a McDonald's facilities and was thus able to share this phenomeon with idle members of the general public. Members of the public who may have been disappointed with the appearance of their deposits. "Users of the public toilet, I am William James Mercer, and I have created the most epic of oddities you are ever likely to encounter. Feast your hungry eyes at what's down here...", I exclaimed. A curious young boy sauntered over, leaned over the bowl and his eyes widened with awe. The boy began to weep until he wept all the fluid in his body, before running out of the room.
Unable to immediately wash away this unexpected gem, I merely reached into the bowl to give it a gentlemanly handshake and walked out of the room and on my way.
...the boy's mother awaited me, herself weeping. She stared forcibly and called me a "fucking disgrace".
Tuesday 19 February 2008
Thursday 14 February 2008
Ian Huntley's Valentine's Card
Hey-ho Jack Sprat. What's new with you? Valentine's day is here again innit? Wish I was fucking dead I do. See, I did a few murders a while back in Soham. Poxy place Soham. Poxy kids there too. Had to take down Two of 'em gangland style, know what I mean? I hated being a fucking caretaker at that poxy village college. Waste of my fucking talent methinks. I'm much better at killing girls. Happy Valentine's Day Holly and Jessica.
Wednesday 13 February 2008
Tuesday 12 February 2008
Kickin’ It In The Bog Episode IV: A New Poop
Dear God almighty! Have you got a light boy? Forget the light, you're gonna need a forest fire back there. That cistern is gonna need some mass explosion to get rid of that pong. I tell ya boy, that stink'll turn ya half blind or worse... Gay. Working at the toilet commission has it's own challenges. I get people coming up to me every day saying "Eh Wilbert? It's got to be an easy old job working at the commission huh?". Those people have ghosts for shoes frankly because not just any old 'wat could do my job. It's more of a calling than a career. It's a way of life. I deal with this kind of stupidity everyday. I'd sooner pick up a big brown one and fling it in their mouth and say "You want the truth? You can't handle the truth!" Just like Jack woss-his-name said in that army film. But I have to be diplomatic. I was called down to Yarmouth last week to a scene of total and utter excrement. Seemed a pipe had burst near the Marina Centre and a brownshot had gone up into the grey Yarmouth skies, turning them a browner grey... There was shit all over the beach, no change there then. Took all of about fifty minutes to get them chavy folk from playing in the brown sand. They were having such a good time. Doesn't take much to please the people of the burberry. This weekend I'm going to Birmingham to the 2008 Toilet Convention. I'm so excited about going I'm wetting my pants. No seriously, I've wet my pants... Whoopsie daisy.
Go West, Fred.
...yeah, your toaster isn't fixed yet. Funny story, actually - just the other day I needed it to batter a judge's head in. You see, I was cornered by this judge and his 7 stone great dane. Of course, the dog backed off when the judge went down.
I think my mattress is raping me in my sleep.
Monday 11 February 2008
Friday 8 February 2008
Thursday 7 February 2008
Jokes, Schmokes.
An Essex girl goes to the council to register for child benefit.
'How many children?' asks the council worker.
'10' replies the Essex girl.
'10?' says the council worker. 'What are their names?'
'Wayne, Wayne, Wayne, Wayne, Wayne, Wayne, Wayne, Wayne, Wayne and Wayne.'
'Doesn't that get confusing?'
'Naah...' says the Essex girl 'its great because if they are out playing in the street I just have to shout WAAYNE, YER DINNER'S READY, or WAAYNE GO TO BED NOW and they all do it...'
'What if you want to speak to one individually?' says the perturbed council worker.
'That's easy,' says the Essex girl... 'I just use their surnames.'
All Bright Eyes.
Greetings to you unwashed Sun-Earthers.
Following an e-mail from the powers that be regarding the dwindling life of the current 'Doctor's Surgery', I've created this account to replace the ... erm. current one. Which is in fact, the old one. uh. yeah.
Anyhoo. Please bookmark this page.
For the existing authors (that would be you, Dr. Relon), you'll need to register your own account with Blogger (www.blogspot.com). I can then add you as an author to this site (as soon as I figure out how to do so, of course).
Hugs & Kisses
Dr. Ron Balls
...ooh, ain't this new site nice and shiny.
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