Kriss Akabusi

[donpisci]

Just found this site http://krissakabusistories.blogspot.com/

Some quality stuff on there.

[I_Funked_your_mum]

Kids Say The Funniest Things

It was quarter to ten in the morning and the rumble of Kriss Akabusi's Corsa tickled his arse in a way that made him grin a grin he would only grin if Fash sent him a humourous text, which he incedentally he hadn't done for ages. He heard a ring. It was his top of the range pay as you go nokia 3210 with a tas mania facia. He thought it might be Fash with an amusing text but instead it was a text from his agent saying that he better get over to Itv studios as fast as possible because Itv where very interested in getting a black presented to front the new series of Kids say the funniest things. Busi despised children; his own where in the boot of his corsa behind his over sized jock strap as he sat there. He realised then why he hadn't heard from Fash or Linford Christie in a while. They had been tipped off about the gig. And even though Busi hated kids he had come accustomed to a certain lifestyle. A one bedroom luxury mansion with it's own lock up doesn't come cheap and Busi was already begining to feel that his motovational speech's weren't packing quite the same punch they once did. And so with this is mind he headed off to itv with all the speed of Stan Collymore after the window of his motor had just been tapped at asda car park.

Driving down the motorway reaching the corsas top speed of 85 miles an hour Busi suddenly became very worried. His smart Dungs where in the wash and he was only wearing his summer ones and he had a big cornetto stain on the front of it. It was then he made a decision. To do it in all his glory standing proud like a midgets coat hook. But he had a trick up his sleeve. Busi, having gone to brighton with the lads the week before had awoken with a prince albert penil piercing. He didn't really rate it much and so opted not to wear jewlerry in it. He was out to impress today though and luckily for him a group of local spastics got him a Liz Duke diamonte hoop for motivating them in the only way he knew how; with a toothy grin an awooga and a slip of the dungs. He took one hand off the steering wheel and reached into the glove box where he took out the ring. As he awkwardly attatched it to his goliath plonker making it resemble mister t after a weight watchers diet. Disaster struck. A siren sounded and Busi new he was rumbled for speeding. He already had a few points on his license and couldn't risk a suspension. He had a JJB to open in reading next monday and he couldn't miss that. He would need to talk his way out of this one. He looked in the rear view window and blood filled his plonker faster than a black man leaving a bnp fancy dress party. It was a saucy little red head police woman. Busi liked a woman in uniform, but he knew that uniform wouldn't be on for very long and as she ordered him to roll down the window he knew exactly what was about to happen.

The officer took one look at his decorated staff of power and lunged through the window. Busi in one foul swoop ripped off the uniform ordering her to keep her helmet on. Why? He just felt like it. He threw her to the back seat and in no time at all the windows where steaming up. Onlookers could merely see a corsa shaking like it's never shook before and could only here the muffled whimpers of two very scared children and the mighty grunts of a man doing what he does best.

Within hours he was ready to unleash his mighty load of man chicken. And his target was in sight. The helmet clad head of P.C Perfect. He blew his load and opened up the back door letting her out. He looked at his watch. Realising he had no chance of getting to itv now. He didn't care though. Let Fash get the gig. Nothing could spoil his mood now. He leant out the front door and he said, "I don't suppose you'll be needing my license and registration." He let out a mighty laugh and bent down and said awooga softly into her seamen covered helmet. Patted her on the fanny and went to catch Greggs before it closed.

[Shaggy]

It was quarter to ten in the morning and the rumble of Kriss Akabusi's Corsa tickled his arse in a way that made him grin a grin he would only grin if Fash sent him a humourous text, which he incedentally he hadn't done for ages. He heard a ring. It was his top of the range pay as you go nokia 3210 with a tas mania facia. He thought it might be Fash with an amusing text but instead it was a text from his agent saying that he better get over to Itv studios as fast as possible because Itv where very interested in getting a black presented to front the new series of Kids say the funniest things. Busi despised children; his own where in the boot of his corsa behind his over sized jock strap as he sat there. He realised then why he hadn't heard from Fash or Linford Christie in a while. They had been tipped off about the gig. And even though Busi hated kids he had come accustomed to a certain lifestyle. A one bedroom luxury mansion with it's own lock up doesn't come cheap and Busi was already begining to feel that his motovational speech's weren't packing quite the same punch they once did. And so with this is mind he headed off to itv with all the speed of Stan Collymore after the window of his motor had just been tapped at asda car park.

Driving down the motorway reaching the corsas top speed of 85 miles an hour Busi suddenly became very worried. His smart Dungs where in the wash and he was only wearing his summer ones and he had a big cornetto stain on the front of it. It was then he made a decision. To do it in all his glory standing proud like a midgets coat hook. But he had a trick up his sleeve. Busi, having gone to brighton with the lads the week before had awoken with a prince albert penil piercing. He didn't really rate it much and so opted not to wear jewlerry in it. He was out to impress today though and luckily for him a group of local spastics got him a Liz Duke diamonte hoop for motivating them in the only way he knew how; with a toothy grin an awooga and a slip of the dungs. He took one hand off the steering wheel and reached into the glove box where he took out the ring. As he awkwardly attatched it to his goliath plonker making it resemble mister t after a weight watchers diet. Disaster struck. A siren sounded and Busi new he was rumbled for speeding. He already had a few points on his license and couldn't risk a suspension. He had a JJB to open in reading next monday and he couldn't miss that. He would need to talk his way out of this one. He looked in the rear view window and blood filled his plonker faster than a black man leaving a bnp fancy dress party. It was a saucy little red head police woman. Busi liked a woman in uniform, but he knew that uniform wouldn't be on for very long and as she ordered him to roll down the window he knew exactly what was about to happen.

The officer took one look at his decorated staff of power and lunged through the window. Busi in one foul swoop ripped off the uniform ordering her to keep her helmet on. Why? He just felt like it. He threw her to the back seat and in no time at all the windows where steaming up. Onlookers could merely see a corsa shaking like it's never shook before and could only here the muffled whimpers of two very scared children and the mighty grunts of a man doing what he does best.

Within hours he was ready to unleash his mighty load of man chicken. And his target was in sight. The helmet clad head of P.C Perfect. He blew his load and opened up the back door letting her out. He looked at his watch. Realising he had no chance of getting to itv now. He didn't care though. Let Fash get the gig. Nothing could spoil his mood now. He leant out the front door and he said, "I don't suppose you'll be needing my license and registration." He let out a mighty laugh and bent down and said awooga softly into her seamen covered helmet. Patted her on the fanny and went to catch Greggs before it closed.

You can tell that's not written by the original (and best) author Rofl Lundgren.

So many people have attempted to jump on the bandwagon and write their own (rip off) stories. Not funny.

[simey85]

You can tell that's not written by the original (and best) author Rofl Lundgren.

So many people have attempted to jump on the bandwagon and write their own (rip off) stories. Not funny.

My mate sent me one aswel, it was a very poor attempt this stuff should be left to the professionals!

[cadmium]

Wonder if Akabusi knows about these stories?

[donpisci]

Wonder if Akabusi knows about these stories?

Yeah- I wonder if he's commisioned them all!

[cadmium]

Yeah- I wonder if he's commisioned them all!

Maybe they're autobiographical?

[KK07]

Can't believe I missed this thread!!

Now I get all the "Awooga" and "pat her on the fanny" references posters make!!

[donpisci]

Maybe they're autobiographical?

It's a possiblity, many authors use aliases.

[I_Funked_your_mum]

Just a thought

I think we should get the author of the stories to write a pilot for bravo or men and motors. I think Kriss would do it, he surely needs the work. The erotic misadventures of Kriss Akabusi. In between "real slags" and "men who shag all the time". Friday nights at 11 o'clock.

Can this be arranged?
I know i would watch it.

[donpisci]

I would too.

Do you think Cyril Reris and Roger Black would play their own characters too?

There must be someone on here with 'insider' knowledge and contacts in the TV world!

[I_Funked_your_mum]

I think we could get as many athletes of yesteryear. Or it could be like a traditional sitcom. Kriss and Andi Peters living together in an odd coupe kind of scenario. Odd because Andi gets absolutely no poontang and masturbates into Ed the duck where as Kriss is up to his powerful athletic neck in it.

Somebody must write this pilot and send it off to Akabusi's agent. Even as a joke. Just to see the reply.

[I_Funked_your_mum]

Akabusi hated trains. They made his balls ache. And they were about the only land based thing he had ever seen that was as long, hard and powerful as his dribbling beef ionic. He looked out the steamed up window at the blurry countryside as the vibrations of the journey went right up his toned onyx legs up to the recently weaved bush covering his monstrous sud carriers.

Before long Busi's meat and two f**king huge veg looked like Kevin Keegan impaled by a giant bum cigar and for a brief moment he passed out as every drop of his Nigerian blue blood shuffled into his genitalia quicker than Gray Thompson on black ice. It would be a shame to waste this god given erection but there was a gang of snotty kids in the same carriage so he got poor OCD riddled John Regis to pinch the end.

Two hours later the beast had been tamed and Akabusi went back to his well thumbed copy of his biography "f**k Me, That Kid Can Run" by Michael Crick. Regis continued playing iShylock on his portable Wii and so far had collected £4763 in rent and just over a pound of flesh or 0.498 kilogrammes to be exact. Which Regis always was. It was just a shame that the carriage had so many germs. Or 8,763,229 to be exact. Regis would scrub his shovel like hands until they bled tonight.

Roger Black wasn't on the train. In fact Busi hadn't seen Blackie for a few days since he had gone up to Cheshire to collect some gambling debts from the Katonas. What a pair of tits! Her and her husband had been. You borrow from Busi you will get burned and Black gets the Vig by any means necessary.

Busi put down his biography after he had read about the infamous Cirque de Soleil incident from 98. Busi liked circuses or circi as much as the f**king next man but he hadn't paid 200 nicker to see some frog in a leo tarding around to pan pipe moods. A circus "should include cruelty to animals, French fellas farting onto talcum powder and clowns dressed as Chris Langham". Good times. Good times.

Krisstopher wiped down the window. They were here. Hogsmeade was a f**king dump. Full of ropey old brass flashing grannies that looked like Gordon Ramsey's chin and Albanians selling shrooms and day trips. Busi laughed as he recalled the time he made Regis drop acid. It had gone right through his Gola trainer and the little bleeder had screamed louder than Hagrid bumming Blessed.

Busi was in town to deliver a motivational speech to some poxy students in their final year of the school up on the hill. A technical college or something, Busi didn't give two magic sh*ts. He was getting ten K for this and all the pussy he could eat. It would have taken 28 JJB openings and 2 Maplin's closures to make that kind of cash and that made Busi harder than a 10 year old gyppo riding on the back of a waltzer.

As Busi and Regis waited for the carriages up to the college they saw a queue of weirdos waiting outside the Hogsmeade Bookshop for the next Rofl Lundgren Sex Story. f**king idiots. Busi knew what happened. It always ended the same way. Clunge carnage.

Turned out the school was a bit huge. And full of "special" children. Not window slurpers or self harmers but magicians and elf harmers. It was like a ****** soup with magic croutons. And owls. Apparently the big man on campus was called Billy Bunter or Barry Norman or something. But Busi was here now and he would give the little f**ker a run for his money. He was going to enjoy his time at Hogtarts.

As he walked onto the stage for his 89 second motivational he felt the cool air of "that what should not really be talked about much" - sex - slip into his Gryffindor dungs and circle his massive hymen hurta and hairy snitches like spirits around Derek Acorah. Mainly gin. He looked down on the 17 year olds and could sense that most of the birds and a few of the owls wanted a piece of the Busi sex pie. And it was just about legal.

There was a ginger tard winking at him up front. Kriss was glad the kid from Mask had lost weight. His mum Cher would be pleased. Next to him was berty big bollocks or Terry Grotbags. He really didn't care what the squeaky little f**ker was called. He just knew he had a much bigger penis and that is what mattered to men. And Busi. As was Busi's wont he let slip his dungs at the climax of the speech and let his slythering pranny pounder fall to the heavy stone floor like their old headmaster - Professor McClusky. He stood there like a chocolate centaur standing on his hind legs about to enter Desert Orchid. Dead or alive.

"Enormous erectionanus!" shouted a voice from the back of the hall. Busi's instantly became harder than blood diamonds and just as shiny. He filled the room with a gigantic meat chimney that Fred Dibnah would have had trouble blowing up. Especially as he was brown bread. A small figure stepped forward.

Hermoine Granger was definitely 18. Maybe even 17. But she was definitely 18. And she was smokin hot magma formed into the shape of a six former. Busi knew beneath that tight jumper was a pair of bristols like two O2 Arenas fighting and a clunge tighter than two jocks on an early morning Easyjet flight to Palma. Busi's offal wand quivered as he was drawn towards Granger, helmet first.

And boy did Busi have helmet thirst. His japs was gasping like Hiroshima residents for eye drops. "Clothus flingoffus" roared Busi as he landed near Hermoine. And they did. She stood there like a beautiful female greyhound with a tits like philosopher's stones and areolae as bumpy and as hot as a landing at Sao Paulo.

He dug in. And lept on her like chocolate leaping frogs. His hands were all over her like Cerberus on three scouse kids. She wasn't shy and Billy Rotter looked over at Krisstopher with a wink. She'd been around the school more times than nits. Within hours Busi was on his vigorous vinegars and he let fly with such a gush of nad sauce that Voldermort was knocked clean out and all the kids started laying into him. He was a f**king dead man.

Roger Black appeared out of nowhere in a flying Corsa. Turns out he was Sirrus's younger brother and sh*t. Regis piled in. Busi rolled up his seven volume saga and slipped on his sodden dungs. He always knew how this would end.

Krisstopher Malcolm Akabusi looked down on the twisted pile of giant spunk bubbles, long matted hair, smashed in back doors, Dark Arts and a clunge wetter than a plunge pool on the Titantic, knelt down onto his powerful black magic knee, whispered "Awooga" in her ear and patted her on the fanny.

The End.

[Shaggy]

[RoadEnd]

http://www.awooga.com/

What a wasted opportunity for a website.