Poems and bastards

Im bored so i am just going to write whatever comes into my head…

Out on the sauce i was last night,
In diceys with a pint of heineken a beautiful site.

The late late toy show will be on the TV
That heckler will be there again, dressed as Santy

In work now, doing lots of things,
Ah fook this, i could do with chicken wings

The jacks in the harbo make a beeping sound,
Did you know a beer costs 5 pound

I was reading in the Sydney Gazzete
That Steve Irwins wife, another man hath met

Shes a dirty bitch with STD’s and piles
She’s caught more men, than Irwin caught crocodiles

She met a guy called fred
He has an endangered fish stuck on his head

Oh well, he’s got a mickey so she’s straight to bed
After all Irwin is dead

Someone should teach that bitch to behave
Poor ole Stevie is spinning in his grave

Christ thats quality. :rolleyes:

If anyone ever wanted a reason to vote for Ball Ox on the poll its stuff like this.

[quote=“Flano”]Christ thats quality. :rolleyes:

If anyone ever wanted a reason to vote for Ball Ox on the poll its stuff like this.[/QUOTE]

So top quality nobody could be arsed replying to his posts.

If you notice the time and date of the post it was after 5 on a Friday evening. Nobody responded to anything from 5pm on a Friday until about 9pm on a Monday morning back then.

so why did nobody reply to it on the monday morning?

Because they didn’t want to.

wrong answer.
real answer = because the poem is shite

[quote=“WhiskeyInTheJar”]wrong answer.
real answer = because the poem is shite[/quote]

Here you cant go around making up stories like that you mong. I’m going to have to unleash some old school Flano beat down talk. YARRRGGGHHHH!!!

am i supposed to be scared after that? this ball ox guy sounds like a fool

What sort of scutter is this?!

You’re supposed to be nothing, thats what you’re supposed to be. What you think something sounds like means fook.

Utter scutter :thumbsup:

Very…VERY foolish words.


Thought that poem was class myself.

Was 9PM in the morning back then?

Yep, the hangovers from TFK parties in the Harby were that bad back then!

Spot on Ben. Mondays were quiet.

And the poem is quality. The rhyming of piles and crocodiles is particularly amusing.