Kriss Akabusi

[I_Funked_your_mum]

What a nickname !

Cheers mate. I am rather fond of it myself.

The sun shone down on Akabuski's shiny chocolate head which glistened in the mid day sun like the tin foil wrapper of a milky bar. He was in the front garden of his two bedroom mansion and was sitting wearing his summer short style dungarees which showed off his mighty jaguar which would moisten any clunge to biblical vengeance proportions, perhaps an ark would be needed. Fortunately, Akabusi could provide.

His Argos plastic garden furniture was heating up and it began to burn his mighty oak tree like legs. He stifled an awooga and decided that he needed a glass of Coke Zero (he was hoping for a sponsership deal and drunk it at any opportunity he could.)

He walked to his Kitchen/dining room and from the window he suddenly smelt the sweet aroma of clunge. An aroma he knew only too well. It hit him fast and suddenly like a junkie waiting outside the post office for a pensioner on a monday morning. Like the junkie, Kriss also had an addiction. An addiction for the sweet sweet act of love making. Or as he called it. "Munching the branston"

The aroma was sending him mad and his pulsating warrior was almost bursting through the summer dungarees so he slipped them off and he stood there in all his glory like Michaelangelo's David smeared in chocolate with a much larger pocket rocket. He was in a frenzy now and was ready to track down that clunge and attack it like a bully attacking the boy with the stutter in the playground.

He burst out of the door of his mansion and surveyed from left to right. The sun on his balls felt good to him. It reminded him of the time him and Michael Hutchence had gone to a brothel and had some kinky match sex with cheap whores. All of which are now in wheel chairs, like all of Kriss' lovers. It was then that he spotted where that sweet aroma was coming from. It was ex blind date host Cilla Black. She was out walking her dog and saying Chuck to anybody would listen. Kriss normally didn't like old Vag but this smelt too good to turn down.

He bellowed over to her 'surprise surprise' You see, he also has a razor sharp wit. And at this he plunged into cilla like a plane into the world trade center. His mighty staff was up her BHS two piece beige suit and her old ginger saggy clunge was tightening around his mighty penis which looked like Al Jolson but infact several feet bigger than the singer.

In mere hours it was all over. He looked down at Cilla who looked like she had just been attacked by a gaggle of angry geese who had an affection for spitting. His famous Akabusi smile appeared on his face and he said. "Are you still breathing?" There was no answer. Barely holding back his laughter he said "Maybe i should ask our Graham" He chuckled so loud and erotically that a 4 year old who was playing near him actually hit puberty right then. She pointed towards her playhouse and Akabusi grinned.

Before heading off too the playhouse he leant over Cilla. And gently whispered, "awooga" in her man juice covered ear. And patted her on the fanny. Today had been a good day for Kriss Akabusi.

The End.

What a nickname !

[I_Funked_your_mum]

Blind date

The sun shone down on Akabuski's shiny chocolate head which glistened in the mid day sun like the tin foil wrapper of a milky bar. He was in the front garden of his two bedroom mansion and was sitting wearing his summer short style dungarees which showed off his mighty jaguar which would moisten any clunge to biblical vengeance proportions, perhaps an ark would be needed. Fortunately, Akabusi could provide.

His Argos plastic garden furniture was heating up and it began to burn his mighty oak tree like legs. He stifled an awooga and decided that he needed a glass of Coke Zero (he was hoping for a sponsership deal and drunk it at any opportunity he could.)

He walked to his Kitchen/dining room and from the window he suddenly smelt the sweet aroma of clunge. An aroma he knew only too well. It hit him fast and suddenly like a junkie waiting outside the post office for a pensioner on a monday morning. Like the junkie, Kriss also had an addiction. An addiction for the sweet sweet act of love making. Or as he called it. "Munching the branston"

The aroma was sending him mad and his pulsating warrior was almost bursting through the summer dungarees so he slipped them off and he stood there in all his glory like Michaelangelo's David smeared in chocolate with a much larger pocket rocket. He was in a frenzy now and was ready to track down that clunge and attack it like a bully attacking the boy with the stutter in the playground.

He burst out of the door of his mansion and surveyed from left to right. The sun on his balls felt good to him. It reminded him of the time him and Michael Hutchence had gone to a brothel and had some kinky match sex with cheap whores. All of which are now in wheel chairs, like all of Kriss' lovers. It was then that he spotted where that sweet aroma was coming from. It was ex blind date host Cilla Black. She was out walking her dog and saying Chuck to anybody would listen. Kriss normally didn't like old Vag but this smelt too good to turn down.

He bellowed over to her 'surprise surprise' You see, he also has a razor sharp wit. And at this he plunged into cilla like a plane into the world trade center. His mighty staff was up her BHS two piece beige suit and her old ginger saggy clunge was tightening around his mighty penis which looked like Al Jolson but infact several feet bigger than the singer.

In mere hours it was all over. He looked down at Cilla who looked like she had just been attacked by a gaggle of angry geese who had an affection for spitting. His famous Akabusi smile appeared on his face and he said. "Are you still breathing?" There was no answer. Barely holding back his laughter he said "Maybe i should ask our Graham" He chuckled so loud and erotically that a 4 year old who was playing near him actually hit puberty right then. She pointed towards her playhouse and Akabusi grinned.

Before heading off too the playhouse he leant over Cilla. And gently whispered, "awooga" in her man juice covered ear. And patted her on the fanny. Today had been a good day for Kriss Akabusi.

The End.

[glynner]

this is absolute gold!!!

I have no idea who this Akabusi fella is...but its funny as ****


AWOOOOOOOOOOGA.

cant wait to yell that out after ive finished servicing the missus

dont forget to pat her on the fanny

[The Wolfman]

chris i cant believe you missed this thread, i ****ing love it.

Thats why my usernams is awooga on the other site.

That RJF thing is good.

[The Glove]

In fact Ive still got a copy of it.





Whilst most supporters know about the hooligan violence that blighted
football in the 70's and 80's, few people will be aware of the clashes
that took place between rival children's TV gangs.

This week sees the publication of 'Congratulations you've just met the
RJF', the long awaited biography from children's TV favourites, Rod,
Jane and Freddy. This explosive book brings readers face to face with the
relentless violence of 80's kiddies TV.

Sports Offensive reprints these exclusive extracts.

Beginnings

Rod: In 1979 there were a lot of really useful firms operating out of ITV
and "The Rainbow Boys" were one of the best in the business. The
problem was, because we were new, we were always on the outside looking
in. It was time to make a bit of a noise and show them we could handle
ourselves.

Freddy: We decided we were going to take Play School in their home pub,
Chatters wine bar in Hampstead. On the face of it, it was a f*ckin
ridiculous thing to do. They were pretty handy and had a big reputation,
but that didn't mean nothing to us. We were ready to make our mark and
didn't care how we did it.

Jane: We got there early and just kept a low profile. Pretty soon the
whole place was filling up. There were quite a few faces in there: Fred
Harris, Derek Griffiths, Big Ted. I can't say it bothered me. All I was
thinking was, "You're going to get it, you numpties!"

Rod: I think it was Johnny Ball who clocked us. I can remember him saying
something like "I can think of a number: the three wnkers stood over
there" and it all kicked off. Even though they hit us with everything they
had, we took it. All I can remember is Freddy screaming, "Hold the line,
just hold the fckin line" and we did.

Jane: I didn't think they could believe that three of us had taken about
forty of them at their place. They just melted away, flicking the V's
at us and looking like a total set of pussies. I saw Hamble with blood
p!ssing from an open head wound. To be honest I was too wound up to care.

Rod: We walked away from there with our heads held high. The Rainbow Boys would have to take notice now. Rod, Jane and Freddy had well and truly
arrived.

The Battle of Blue Peter

Rod: There's been a whole heap of bullsh!t spoken about who vandalised the
Blue Peter Garden. The truth is that place got torn up in one of the
maddest, bloodiest children's television rucks I can ever remember.


Jane: Blue Peter were always giving it some about how they were the best
in the business. We were happy to let them think that. Our feeling was
they'd got sloppy and hadn't fought anyone decent for about five years.
Their shows always went out live, so the plan was to wait until the end of
the live broadcast and pile in. The trouble was it didn't work out like that.

Freddy: We'd gone over the wall and started heading towards them. It was
Simon Groom and Janet Ellis and we could tell we'd taken them by
surprise. Rod wades in and bang, bang, bang they both go down like a sack
of sht. It was all a bit too easy and we couldn't work out why the camera
crew were holding back. Then we realised, they'd been having some sort of past presenter's reunion. They all came pouring out of the studios: Noakes,
Purves, Singleton; all ready to kick seven shades of sht out of us.

Jane: As far as we were concerned there was only one thing to do. Stand
our ground. Other firms would have run but we just thought, fck, this far
and no further. It wasn't easy mind. They were tooled up with bottle tops
from a bring and buy sale. Peter Duncan was just wading into us with a
bicycle chain shouting, "Take that you c*nt !" I honestly didn't think
we'd last much longer.

Rod: Then we heard it. The best sound in the world; "Up above the streets
and houses, Rainbow climbing high!" It was The Rainbow Boys battle cry
the cavalry was coming. Zippy dropped the nut on Biddy Baxter and suddenly
things were a bit more even. I swear on my mother's grave if security
hadn't stepped in we'd have murdered the b*stards.

Freddy: The garden was totally fcked. They covered it up and said it was
the work of vandals. No it wasn't, it was the scene of our finest hour.

'Congratulations You've Just Met The RJF' is published by Hodder and
Staunton and retails at £7.99

[The Glove]

How the mother **** had this thread passed me by?

Its the funniest thing I have read since the story of the RJF - 70's kid show violence.

[cadmium]

Nice one Monty

[Monty]

Akabusi sat in his Vauxhall Corsa eating a corn beef and horseradish bloomer from Greggs with all the gusto of an Ethiopian at a Harvester salad bar. He looked out the dirty window at some pigeons fighting and f**king in the strong beams of the low winter sun. He roared with a laugh as loud, dark and hollow as a Lenny Henry comeback tour. What did these animals know of the art of f**king love making?

The thought sent a quiver down Akabusi's ebony frame to his purring pussy pounder. It hadn't tasted the sweet suds of a clunge for at least eight hours and it was getting restless and hungry. Kriss considered inducing a wet day dream - or a "lunchtime geyser" as Geoff Capes had once called it. But no. His throbbing hulk of brown greasy gristle needed kneeding and it had to be from the wettest, reddest lips since Jilly Goolden on a tour of the Bordeaux region.

And anyway, John Regis was sitting in the back of the Corsa nursing a Cheese and Onion pastie and feverishly counting the rain drops on the window. Since the Manchester Casino debacle Regis's OCD had become 456 times worse. Akabusi and Black had tried to f**k the casino over with Regis counting cards but the daft window slurper had gone nuts and pushed the table over and flopped his monster cock in the face of the croupier. Regis insisted there were 39 steps out of the casino but the boy's feet barely touched the ground.

To cheer himself up Akabusi had entered a Pro Celebrity Golf Tournament at Wentworth and as he licked his big brown finger and dabbed the crumbs from his tweed dungerees he looked out on the assembled Z list clebs at the first tee. He knew he was going to get some hole today and he prayed to his Nigerian gods that it was deep and didn't have a flag in it. Yet.

Akabusi wiped Regis down with a wet wipe and headed over to registration. In the distance he spotted that c**t Tanni Grey Thompson rolling over to the first tee with her electronic caddy in tow - it looked like a convoy of sh*t Transformers. Akabusi growled and snarled like an Muslim's belly on the penultimate day of Ramadam. If he was playing against her he was sure he would lose his considerable rag and bury her up to her head in a bunker. He tried to remain calm as he was introduced to his caddy.

Clunge Sunesson was the smoking hot daughter of Fanny, Faldo's old stick holder, and Akabusi's interest in this good walk spoilt was heightened when his greedy eyes focused on the svelte Swedish sexpot that stood before him polishing his wood. The cool air of the early morning breeze slide into his dungerees like Sidney Cooke into a nephew's bunk and licked at his black short and curlys like lesbians at the annual muff divers stamp collectors blow out. He wanted to sink his rapidly engorging brown Mizuno into her fairway as soon as. But he had a game to play and some spastics to buy a bus for or some sh*t like that.

"What's your handicap Abakumi?" hurled Bruce Forsyth as he passed by in his golf buggy which doubled as a hearse. "By big cock, you old c**t" roared Kriss with a sharpness and panache not seen since that bender Wilde complained about the wallpaper. Akabusi knew he had a powerful swing but knew more often than not his balls ended up in the rough. She worked in the clubhouse on Saturdays.

As was Akabusi's custom he let the brass buckles of his tweed dungerees loose and felt the coarse fabric rush past his ebony carcass like a rocket launch. All the celebs knew the score with Kriss and no one said a f**king word as he stood at the first tee looking like a large chocolate "K". Akabusi always played erect- it improved his game and left him ever ready to plunge his black post box into a fan or PR girl. As he shifted his giant onyx rugby balls and pulled his bat or club or whatever the f**k it was called the CTU tone of his mobile started ringing.

Clunge picked up the huge bloody thing and the battery attached and slung it over to Akabusi. It was Derek Redmond. They hated Redmond. Him, Blackie and poor Regis had never forgiven him for plonking Suzanne Davies and not letting them watch and he had a small willy so he never really fit in. As Akabusi held up the whole tournament with his call viewers could see his veiny colussas begin to fall to the ground like Beckett in the cathedral. Apparently Redmond had been sending parcel bombs to various offices across the country. He'd got a parking ticket whilst he was dogging with Collymore and McFadden in Penge and it had driven him nuts. And he had a small willy.

Deflated, Akabusi told Redmond that the lads would be over to his £117,560 mansion near Watford as soon as the tournament was over. They'd have to kill him of course. He knew too much. But at least the madness would be over and the good people of the parking and traffic enforcement community could sleep easy. Black liked murder and killing so he would garoutte the micro cocked loon whilst he poured the others a Kestrel.

Clunge Sunesson came over and told him the tourny was off. Darren Clarke had waterlogged the second hole with his tears and automatically both won the tournament and managed to f**k loads of mothering birds. Akabusi wished he had a dead wife. Oh well, he thought as his attention returned to Clunge.

He knew beneath the pink Pringle top and flourescent tabard lay a pair of epic blonde bristols with all the promise and weight of Frank Lampard as a teenager. And as sure as Regis was mad as a closed box of c**ts, Akabusi knew that tucked into those khaki shorts was a pussy as hairless and had a powerful grip as a Professor Xavier action figure. He felt the blood rush into his brown campanile quicker than a train delay at the hint of snow.

He picked up Clunge and threw over his shoulder and headed to the tranquility of the nearest bunker. He torn her gear off and flung her into the bunker. She lay helpless in the sand like an unturned beetle - with a pair of itty bitty tits and a fanny as wet as a Zeebrugge purser. He plunged into her like a Johnny Vegas dive bombing a kiddie's pool and before long he was up to his crackers in this blonde spunk wagon.

Within hours he was approaching his vinegars and let out a roar of pain, pleasure and passion as he let fly such a stream of hot man scum over her battered torso that people in the next town thought someone had struck white oil. He had.

As he strapped his dying dong to his toned calves and slipped on his tweed dungs he looked over to the Corsa. Regis was all excited - there were 8796 rain drops on the rear window and couldn't wait to tell Redmond. Black was at the boot loading up some tools and cheese wire. This was going to get messy.

He looked down on the shagpile of giant spermazota, matted Scandic hair, Slazenger Number 1s and a Clunge that looked like a regurgitated steak, bent down, whispered "Awooga" in her ear and patted her on the fanny.

The End.

[Shaggy]

That is the funniest thing I've read in years. Any links? Where the flock does it come from, who wrote it?

The source of all this is discussed in this thread somewhere, I think. The link is definitely here – it’s from the Football365 forums. Seemingly some bloke (username Rofl_Lundgren) made them all up.

[Monty]

That is the funniest thing I've read in years. Any links? Where the flock does it come from, who wrote it?

[Parm]

I dont know why, but it is funny as you like, proper warped, but funny as ****.
As Shaggy says some may get it, others wont.

[Shaggy]

Now now Shaggy, we both know that's not true.

A couple of people were a bit bemused, the rest of us were pissing ourselves.

Where has this come from originally?

I think at the time I posted that comment mate, it had bombed. However, since then it seemed to have been received a bit better.

The source of all this is discussed in this thread somewhere, I think. The link is definitely here – it’s from the Football365 forums. Seemingly some bloke (username Rofl_Lundgren) made them all up.

[singlerider]

I also posted it on 6CM and it bombed there too. Hey ho.

Now now Shaggy, we both know that's not true.

A couple of people were a bit bemused, the rest of us were pissing ourselves.

Where has this come from originally?

[cadmium]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gprk_e3uiQk

"Kris Akabusi, Kris Akabusi"