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Old 21-07-07, 03:36 PM   #121
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I haven't checked but I'm sure www.fannypattingkriss.com Is still available so we could be o.k. after all.
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Old 21-07-07, 04:03 PM   #122
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hahah, so funny

btw link doesnt work
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Old 26-07-07, 11:24 PM   #123
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Saw this thread a and it reminded me of a strange site I was sent the link to ages ago. Anyway, I finally found the site again. It's basically about Roy Orbison and cling-film. This is the type of thing on there.

Quote:
It always starts the same way. I am in the garden airing my terrapin Jetta when he walks past my gate, that mysterious man in black.

'Hello Roy,' I say. 'What are you doing in Dusseldorf?'

'Attending to certain matters,' he replies.

'Ah,' I say.

He apprises Jetta's lines with a keen eye. 'That is a well-groomed terrapin,' he says.

'Her name is Jetta.' I say. 'Perhaps you would like to come inside?'

'Very well.' He says.

Roy Orbison walks inside my house and sits down on my couch. We talk urbanely of various issues of the day. Presently I say, 'Perhaps you would like to see my cling-film?'

'By all means.' I cannot see his eyes through his trademark dark glasses and I have no idea if he is merely being polite or if he genuinely has an interest in cling-film.

I bring it from the kitchen, all the rolls of it. 'I have a surprising amount of clingfilm,' I say with a nervous laugh. Roy merely nods.

'I estimate I must have nearly a kilometre in the kitchen alone.'

'As much as that?' He says in surprise. 'So.'

'Mind you, people do not realize how much is on each roll. I bet that with a single roll alone I could wrap you up entirely.'

Roy Orbison sits impassively like a monochrome Buddha. My palms are sweaty.

'I will take that bet,' says Roy. 'If you succeed I will give you tickets to my new concert. If you fail I will take Jetta, as a lesson to you not to speak boastfully.'

I nod. 'So then. If you will please to stand.'

Roy stands. 'Commence.'

I start at the ankles and work up. I am like a spider binding him in my gossamer web. I do it tight with several layers. Soon Roy Orbison stands before me, completely wrapped in cling-film. The pleasure is unexampled.

'You are completely wrapped in cling-film,' I say.

'You win the bet,' says Roy, muffled. 'Now unwrap me.'

'Not for several hours.'

'Ah.'

I sit and admire my handiwork for a long time. So as not to make the ordeal unpleasant for him we make small talk on topical subjects, Roy somewhat muffled. At some point I must leave him to attend to Jetta's needs. When I return I find he has hopped out of my house, still wrapped in cling-film. The loss leaves me broken and pitiful. He never calls me. He sends no tickets. The police come and reprimand me. Jetta is taken away, although I get her back after a complicated legal process.

There is only one thing that can console me. A certain dream, a certain vision...

It always starts the same way.
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Old 03-09-07, 07:19 PM   #124
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Old 10-10-07, 03:51 PM   #125
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Busi had had enough. His agent, Harvey Goldenblum, was a downpour in a shower of shites. He had only opened eighteen JJBs and one fucking Maplins last week. The £127,987 one bedroom mansion in Luton didn't clean itself. How was he meant to keep Regis full of pills and Black full of murderous rage on these buttons that Harvey was tossing his way? Busi had no idea. That's why he had an accountant. But his accountant was Harvey Goldenblum.

He looked around at the other black men sitting in the green room sipping jasmine tea and thumbing Stanivslaski. His big meeting with Harvey last week had been a mess. They should never had met in Chariots Spa. But you couldn't get the giant front wheel out of there. Krisstopher had laid it on the line. He wanted more acting work. The DVD of "Lotions 13" had been shifting units all over the shop. The commentary by poor old OCD prone John Regis had become a classic and a standard text for all psychologists. The time was right for Busi to have his own show. A cop show. A cookery show. Any kind of fucking show.

So here he was. In the green room of the Letchworth Police Station. About to "appear" in a line up for a suspected rapist in the area. As he applied his rouge and ran over his lines with Adrian Lester he thought of Harvey's garbled words as two Brazilian boys had placed their copas in Goldenblum's capana. "If you want to be a black actor you have to do rep. Police line ups. Crimewatch. The Bill. Maybe a Trial and Retribution. Oh God, that's good." Busi wanted to be the black Bond. The chocolate Columbo. The onyx Oprah. But he needed walnut effect flooring. A job is a job.

Busi was useless though. About as useless as a fanny on Anne Widdicombe. He kept fluffing his lines. And pumping his fist in the line up. And shouting Justin Fashanu's catchphrase "Awooga". It was clear he wasn't the rapist. Or the granny murderer. He was just a very loud ex sportsman with a taste for clunge custard and monstrous trouser cobra. Two cases had been thrown out of court in the last hour. No one wanted Krisstopher Malcolm Akabusi to graduate to reconstructions on Crimewatch more than the Thames Valley Police. Except maybe Busi himself.

Chief Inspector John Stalker took Busi aside after the rapist lineup. Kriss had made sure that the woman had fingered Adrian Lester instead of the real fella. One less Ophello on the Crimewatch market.

Stalker was a tough man. When he wasn't fitting up Irish people for playing with cards and making bombs he was fitting electric awnings. But everyone in the force knew that Drummer, his ever present lab, was the brains of the outfit and Busi wanted to speak to the monkey not the organ grinder. Or the monkey man. Or the grinder man. He was confused. He just wanted to speak to someone who knew what he was talking about.

Drummer motioned for Busi to take a seat in his walnut effect office. He offered a Cuban. But Kriss wasn't here to fuck a Latino. Or was he? Drummer used his hind leg to itch his ear whilst he laid it out for Busi. He couldn't do line ups anymore. He was a worse black actor than the former head of the UN - Bernie Mac. But he had a special job for him. Down in the remand cells.

Amy Winehouse was a fucking godawful mess. He'd seen more meat on a burnt chip. She had a nose that you break ice with, a hairdo that looked like something a giant cat would hock up on the duvet and teeth like pikey paving. Busi knocked on the glass wall that separated her from him. She stirred.

Now Busi liked pussy as much as the next man. As long as the next man was George Best or Julio Ingelellisas. But this bag of bones was beyond the pale. But Regis needed medication. Medication. Medication was all he needed. He felt the hot blood rush into his stone cold meat parcel. He was ready.

He knew that beneath the tatty LBD was a clunge as uninviting as a HSBC in Chandlers Ford and a pair of tits as lifeless as Samanda. It began to speak. "A showbiz reporter once came to interview me. I ate his liver with some brown. And a can of Tennants. SHShsususushhshs". Krisstopher felt vomit form in the back of his throat but he sucked it up.

Busi let slip his acting dungs and the fetid air of the cells swilled around his giant cocoa rugby balls like mouth wash in an alcos gob. His diamond cutter pierced the glass and he entered the cell. Drummer ran in and started pulling at Winehouse's dress. Soon they were both naked. Busi like a proud Nubian warlord and Amy like Steptoe with tattoos.

Akabusi leapt on her like the Daily Express on a new Diana theory. Busi packed more into her clunge than a Renault McCann boot and was leaving as much DNA. To her credit her pussy was juicier than Kate's diary and soon they were rocking it up against the cold stone.

Within hours Busi was on his virulent vinegars and let Winehouse have a mouth full of protein for the first time since Hanukkah 2003. He rolled up his Biltong pillbox and slipped on his acting duds. He tried to persuade her to go for a kebab. But she said "No, no, no." "Suit yourself you scrawny ****" roared Busi with all the might of a bear not giving Brian Blessed a reacharound in the showers.

His pager bleeped. It was Harvey. He had an audition to play understudy to Adrian Lester as a rapist in Crimewatch. Work was work. Busi looked down on the sloshing pile of flipping, flapping spermazota, needles, black eyeliner, Drummer's hair and latkes, knelt down on his muscular knee, whispered "Awooga" in her ear and patted her on the fanny.

The End.
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I was playing doctors and nurses with my female cousin. I was about 6 or 7, and we were inserting little toy stuffs in our bum holes. Does it count as snogging?

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Old 10-10-07, 03:54 PM   #126
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I know I said elsewhere I try to refrain from commenting on such things these days but there is some truly shocking spelling in there.
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Old 10-10-07, 03:57 PM   #127
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I know I said elsewhere I try to refrain from commenting on such things these days but there is some truly shocking spelling in there.
Funnily enough I was just about to edit the spelling mistakes myself. I noticed them too. He writes well, this bloke….he’s funny, but his spelling is rubbish.
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I was playing doctors and nurses with my female cousin. I was about 6 or 7, and we were inserting little toy stuffs in our bum holes. Does it count as snogging?
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Old 10-10-07, 04:03 PM   #128
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By the way, Neil, just in case you didn't know - words like Iglesias are deliberately and routinely spelled incorrectly.
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I was playing doctors and nurses with my female cousin. I was about 6 or 7, and we were inserting little toy stuffs in our bum holes. Does it count as snogging?
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Old 10-10-07, 04:08 PM   #129
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I have no desire or drive to read such lurid filth which relies upon racial and sexual stereotypes to raise cheap laughs from its audience. My MP will be hearing from me shortly and I am well within my rights to contact Mr Kris Akabusi and make him aware of these libellous and slanderous diatribes. I am sure that his athletic cohorts will also be relieved to know that not every member of the internet surfing public stoops to such levels of depravity in search of comic distraction. Some of us do have standards to maintain and lead by example, don't you know.
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Old 20-02-08, 06:06 PM   #130
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BUSI UPDATE!




And, a couple of months late, here's the festive effort...


Busi was cold. He was so cold he had killed two brass monkeys and wrapped their pelts around his ebony carriage leaving him all furry looking like he'd rolled around on a crusty's front room. His clunge plunger had retracted as far as it could go but it was still over a foot long and his shaved chestnuts needed to be roasting on an open fire or failing that resting on a slit arses chin.

All in all he was f**king freezing. To celebrate a good year Busi's agent Harvey Goldenblum had sent the boys to open a JJB in Lapland with a jumbo full of Make A Wish slurpers on the strict condition no tards got killed or maimed or kicked to pieces by nutty reindeers. Busi, Regis and Black had begrudgingly accepted the challenge - deaths were always a possiblity on these trips and reindeers were an unknown quantity. Black was very keen to visit the country that had given us the Lapdance and poor old OCD riddled Regis planned to count every drop of snow he could get his giant hot hands on.

The plane journey had been a nause and a half. 200 nose dribblers jumping up and down, setting off alarms, punching trolley mollys and shouting the word "bomb" continuely. Busi had put on his new iPatch and listened to the audio recording of "Rofl Lundgren's Erotic Stories for Men (and, to a lesser extent, women) History Edition" read by Brian Blessed. He noted from the cover that the book version was out in Janurary 08 and would be available from Lulu.com but he wasn't sure why he had noted that so carefully. Maybe it was spam...

The last few months had been busier than Amanda Knox's imagination. Busi had opened 28 JJBs and one Maplins in Penge, gotten married twice and divorced three times, appeared on Dragon's Den selling his new scat video "2 Guys Wassup" and skating to victory in the Nigeria version of Deal or No Deal on Ice. Regis had been in his penthouse urinating into empty bottles of Tizer and collecting the pixels on his new HD telly so his OCD was officially 2456 times better than it had been 678 hours before. Black had killed eight men. With his bare hands. So all was good in the hood for the jolly boys.

Except that Busi's fleshy hood had retracted less often the Millenium in Cardiff during winter. His veiny parnassus hadn't tasted the sweet suds of any of the five available holes on a woman and his rampant zota were backing up like Christmas Eve traffic. He was carrying so much knacker cracker spread Busi was pretty certain that he was turning white and once woke up on his walnut effect sheets wondering if he was growing one of those sperm tails. He prayed to every god in the book that he would go in up to his nuts on something in Lapdanceland or whatever the f**k it was called.

Black loved whipping huskies, Busi roared to himself with all the gusto of a turkey and sprout fart from an eighty year old relative. They were speeding through the epic white nothingness of Lap towards Santa's Grotty. A few leos had already fallen by the wayside, sliced under the blades of Regis' nasty b*stard sleigh or eaten by wild artic scouse rotts but Busi had told Harvey he never failed to come back from an ouward bound thingy without blood on his meaty cock like fingers.

Busi's sled kicked up more white dust than a leper skipping as he pulled up at Santa's joint. It was a propa big drum with a Maccers, the biggest JJB he had ever seen and a large warehouse that no one was allowed near. Ever. At all. Santa came out to meet Busi, Black and Regis as well as the handful of Tesco packers who had survived the ardous three day trek. He was a nice fellow. Smelt a little of sherry, a bit of reindeer meat and a lot of dried p*ss.

Mary Christmas showed them to their rooms and instantly Busi's plonker started twitching like an epilectic at a gabba night. Santa's missus was hotter than two volcanos wearing no factor on a a week's holiday in Sharm El Sheik. She had long blonde hair that looked like the arse p*ss of some heavenly Greek god and blue eyes that spoke a thousand words. All of them "trouble" and "pre-cum".

Busi knew that beneath the red velvety cloth and lush white ermin was a pair of epic bristols like two missing disks containing 25 million titw*nks and downstairs was a clunge tighter than Scrooge on Ryanair, booked months in advance. "Mr Akabusboi, stop looking at my arris" she purred like a cat that had just got the cream and then found it was on top of a tuna steak and that was nestling on a bed of mices cooked in catnip. Busi laughed. And at that instant he knew he'd ruin this broad before this day was done. He felt a jet of exploratory blood shoot into his resting yuletide log and his balls dropped an inch into their attack position. She'd keep.

After they unpacked and the kids had been locked up for the week Santa and his missus toke the Busi Boys on a tour of the facility. It was huge. Funded by a conglomerate of Halliburton, Mothercare, Poundland and a few other key military industrial corporations it pumped out dolls, guns and Simpsons merchandise at a rate of knots. All built by primordial dwarves and out of work Ewoks, Santa exclaimed as Mary Christmas darted Busi a look that would pull the skin back on a cock at twenty paces.

Regis was getting a bit antsy. He hadn't been able to clean his hands for the required four hours after meeting Santa and his cocktail of pills had been eaten by Donna or Blitzkrieg or wahtever the f**k those dopey c**ts were called. When he swung open the doors of the huge warehouse they all heard Santa's april squeak like a loose balloon flying across the room. The warehouse was packed with children of all colours, creeds, disabilities and nervous tics toiling away in the biggest sweatshop Busi had ever seen since he had "mistakenly" gone to GAY with Biggins and Cilla. "You nawty greedy cahnt" shouted Busi with the force of 12 angry men in a quandary as to what to buy in La Senza for Christmas. Black waisted no time in punching Santa in the mouth and blood streamed out his fat kisser into his white beard. Regis ran at him and pushed him into a big vat of boiling plastic which would later make a novelty socks for BHS. The big fat heap of dirt was toast. And now they ran the show. Black and Regis got the little ankle lickers back to work as Busi turned his attention and his cock towards Mary.

He wasted no time as he pulled the heavy garments from her back. She had tits like two Christmas puddings covered in cream and topped with a walnut effect whip. Her pussy hair was carved into the shape of a Christmas tree and her labs were wetter than a drowned canoeist in a pool in Panama. Busi rose to attention like a Daily Mail reader during the Queen's speech and his brass monkey hair dungs tore off his torso as violently as a misguided box stunt on a Noel Edmonds show. Krisstopher wanted to get his stuffing inside this tight bird and he didn't care about the giblets. She needed roasting.

He set about her and before long he was pushing her across the snow like Tanni Grey Thompson chasing a departing blue bus on black ice. "Santa's coming!" roared Busi as he got right amongst it and felt Mary gasp as their bodies smashed together like the inevitable Chritmas plane crash or earthquake. Within hours Busi was on his violent, vigorous vinegars and he let spray with such a gush of globe lube that when his grog froze he looked like black Ice Man. He looked at his giant sperm screaming in suspended animation like Hans Solo's spunk and gave them a cheeky w*nker sign. In the distance he heard an explosion from the huge sweatshop and a hot jet of fire rose into the clear black sky. Regis had f**king touched something.

Busi looked down on the slushy pile of matted blonde hairs, dead reindeer, a clunge that looked like turkey leftovers and a vicious looking brass monkey, slipped on his new red Santa dungs, bent down on his powerful Nubian knee, whispered "Awooga" in her ear and patted her on the fanny.
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I was playing doctors and nurses with my female cousin. I was about 6 or 7, and we were inserting little toy stuffs in our bum holes. Does it count as snogging?
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Old 20-02-08, 11:43 PM   #131
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:whatever:


I don't know why this is so amusing...I mean did he fuck an animal hence the animal stuff or what's the joke
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Old 21-02-08, 12:28 PM   #132
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i really do not get this at all
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Old 21-02-08, 03:25 PM   #133
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This is officially the funniest thread ever. Just read it again.

I cannot believe you two (above) don't get it! Ah well.

BUSI BUSI BUSI!
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I was playing doctors and nurses with my female cousin. I was about 6 or 7, and we were inserting little toy stuffs in our bum holes. Does it count as snogging?
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Old 21-02-08, 04:44 PM   #134
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fuckin hell, what a thread

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Old 23-02-08, 09:30 PM   #135
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:whatever:


I don't know why this is so amusing...I mean did he fuck an animal hence the animal stuff or what's the joke
right re-read the whole fucking thread....25mins!!!


...but now I get it....quite funny
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Old 24-02-08, 12:55 PM   #136
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i remember reading these on the Raotl.co.uk forums

quite funny
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Old 25-02-08, 03:27 PM   #137
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love that Amy Winehouse one
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Old 07-04-09, 03:48 PM   #138
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Just been invited to a conference called ‘Arrival of the Fittest’ and one of the guest speakers is Kriss Akabusi!

The blurb in the brochure says ‘Kriss is best known for his achievements in athletics…’

I beg to differ!
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I was playing doctors and nurses with my female cousin. I was about 6 or 7, and we were inserting little toy stuffs in our bum holes. Does it count as snogging?
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Old 07-04-09, 05:14 PM   #139
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quality!
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Old 10-04-09, 11:19 AM   #140
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Quote:
Originally Posted by ShaggyAlonso View Post
Just been invited to a conference called ‘Arrival of the Fittest’ and one of the guest speakers is Kriss Akabusi!

The blurb in the brochure says ‘Kriss is best known for his achievements in athletics…’

I beg to differ!
Wonder how many fannies he gets to pat at this conference...Awooga!
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Old 10-04-09, 12:46 PM   #141
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ha ha, forgot about this thread.... quality reading material if ever there was.
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Old 10-04-09, 12:56 PM   #142
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Originally Posted by ShaggyAlonso View Post
Just been invited to a conference called ‘Arrival of the Fittest’ and one of the guest speakers is Kriss Akabusi!

The blurb in the brochure says ‘Kriss is best known for his achievements in athletics…’

I beg to differ!


First time i've felt like laughing since the game.

Last edited by Vermilion; 10-04-09 at 12:58 PM.
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Old 10-04-09, 12:58 PM   #143
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Originally Posted by ShaggyAlonso View Post
Just been invited to a conference called ‘Arrival of the Fittest’ and one of the guest speakers is Kriss Akabusi!

The blurb in the brochure says ‘Kriss is best known for his achievements in athletics…’

I beg to differ!
If you go - you must shout "Awooga" at him. His resulting expression will tell you everything!
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Old 10-04-09, 01:00 PM   #144
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If you go - you must shout "Awooga" at him. His resulting expression will tell you everything!
He's got to go, he must, to see what he can glean from the man himself, maybe even shake 'that' hand.
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Old 27-07-09, 02:33 PM   #145
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Bump
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Old 27-07-09, 02:33 PM   #146
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Originally Posted by ShaggyAlonso View Post
Just been invited to a conference called ‘Arrival of the Fittest’ and one of the guest speakers is Kriss Akabusi!

The blurb in the brochure says ‘Kriss is best known for his achievements in athletics…’

I beg to differ!
Did you go to this?
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Old 27-07-09, 02:46 PM   #147
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Haha no I didn't. Couldn't be bothered. I grudgingly accepted that the reality would've been very different to the sordid, depraved conference I had in mind.
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I was playing doctors and nurses with my female cousin. I was about 6 or 7, and we were inserting little toy stuffs in our bum holes. Does it count as snogging?
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Old 27-07-09, 02:52 PM   #148
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Haha no I didn't. Couldn't be bothered. I grudgingly accepted that the reality would've been very different to the sordid, depraved conference I had in mind.
Aye you would have been sat there just wishing he'd whip his king size plonker out
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Old 27-07-09, 02:56 PM   #149
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Yep...would've been dying to stand up and scream 'AWOOOOOOOGAAAAAAA!'. Just wouldn't have worked.
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Old 27-07-09, 05:48 PM   #150
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Yep...would've been dying to stand up and scream 'AWOOOOOOOGAAAAAAA!'. Just wouldn't have worked.
You'd have got a rise out of Kris though.
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Old 28-07-09, 12:23 PM   #151
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Richard Blackwood's Funeral:

Akabusi tightened his black tie around his bare neck as he wiped down the splashback from 3 Muller Rices he'd demolished from his jet black dungerees. He stood in front of the mirror and examined himself. He felt so sexy he was sure that it was only a matter of time before Lynx named a spray after him. Ebony? Clunge buster? Fanny Patt? Or just simply Akabusi. He made a note in his Psion to call his manager when he got back.

Kriss heard John Regis downstairs checking all of the window locks and counting the pixels on Akabusi's new 14" plasma. The OCD had gotten pretty bad after the "incident" and to help daft Regis through it Akabusi had bought him the first of the "Build your own Bismarck" collection. Only the first one mind, the rest were too expensive. This had kept Regis occupied for about a minute before he'd crushed the fourth rear engine with his mighty hands and eaten it. War is hell.

Akabusi jogged down the stairs of his £126,970 mansion, cleaned up Regis' face with a wet wipe and they left the house and waited for Roger Black to pick them up in his Corsa.

Akabusi could feel the fresh air of the cul de sac racing around the base of his sleeping sliver of pork and encircling his giant hanging balls like dipping a hot hot dog and two cum filled scotch eggs into a pint of Stella. He really wanted to let slip the confines of his dungs and let his hymen hurter find a wet place to live. But in the distance he could see Black cutting corners like the architect in the Towering Inferno. It was time to hit this funeral harder than Boycott on Moore.

There was an awkward silence in the motor on the way. Black had been f**king decent enough to provide sausage rolls, mini kievs, little pizzas, cherryade Panda Pop and a pack of bourbons for the 5 minute journey. Akabusi hated funerals, they made his angry cock wilt and retreat within his bristling ebony frame and it could often only be coaxed out by the prospect of surprise sex or w*nking on religious iconography. What made this funeral even harder was he hated the c**t so much.

Richard Blackwood had been killed during Operation Trident last week in Clapham. The Operation had been introduced several years ago to murder Blackwood with a piece of gladiatorial weaponary after Richard claimed he was ready for a comeback. Attmepts with iaculum and manicae in various parts of South London has proved fruitless until an increasingly unhinged Derek Redmond had cornered Blackwood in a "Cummin' Up" kebab house with a trident and skewered the b*stard until he was deadened. Redmond was likely to serve the rest of his life in a maximum security prison or be made a Mayor of London - it was that close.

As the rain started pelting off the collection of sportsmen, minor celebrities and Richard Blackwood fan at graveside, Akabusi could feel a stirring within his dark loins that felt like the beginnings of a beautiful and fulfilling erection. His sagging testes tightened like two fists being formed by a market trader on his one night out. Akabusi was confused. Although it was Richard Blackwood's funeral, people were still pretty depressed and there was certainly no pussy worth abusing. Or was there?

No. Turned out there wasn't. He'd spotted June Sarpong MBE leaving the funeral just before Vaz Blackwood (no relation) stepped up to rap a eulogy. She was a c**t of the highest order - Akabusi had described her as a black bin bag stretched over a skeleton on his blog - but he would have loved to slip his meat python down her throat and then pull his own cock out of her sealed up arsehole. Maybe at the TV Quick Awards.

As Kriss, Roger and John kicked dirt onto the coffin the crowds dispersed and the pimped out Corsas started collecting the guests to bring them to the afterparty at the ice rink in Streatham. Akabusi peeled off from the gang and returned to the grave. He was busting for a crap and he knew this was a great opportunity to finish the day.

Before he positioned his big toned arse over the edge of Blackwood's grave he let the shackles of his funeneral dungereess slip and exposed his naked onyx chassis to the dead people who lay all around. He felt like a Titan - more vital and alive than anyone around. Who were all dead. As he felt the turtle rising he roared with a laugh so loud, dark and evil corpses turned in their graves ever so slightly.

As his giant man size plop hit the walnut casket, the impact smashed the coffin to pieces. As Akabusi check wiped he looked down at the twisted form of Richard Blackwood entwined with excrement, splintered wood and copies of his "single" which he had demamded be buried with him - "for the ferryman, man". Akabusi was so aroused his plonker filled with so much powerful, dangerous liquid he knew what it was to be George Best's liver. The erection was so intense it had drawn all the colour and life out of his body so he looked like Mr Bean impaled on fresh lumber.

"Mr Abbakumi, what the f**k are you doing sh*tting onto the coffin of my deadened cousin?" said a voice from behind him. The accent was as rich and as false as Lady Madonna of Gloucestershire. As Busi turned slowly around his Malteser eyes rested on the skeletal form of supermodel and nut job Naomi Campbell. Akabusi knew that this was about to become the biggest black on black crime he'd ever witnessed.

He knew that beneath the impeccable styling, giant sunglasses and lady like demeanor were a pair of cracking black bristols and a clunge as filthy, dangerous and inviting as an inner city canal. Akasbui wanted to throw his shopping trolley of love into her as quickly as humanely possible. And it seemed Campbell agreed as before he could tear the Gucci from her back, Naomi had a PA carefully remove her garments and fold them up.

Akabusi plunged into her like a caretaker into a bombing campaign. It wasn't long before he was so far into the mouthy bitch that his balls slipped into her leg cavities. His hands were all over her and the friction caused by these two jet black specimums would surely burn this graveyard to the ground.

Within hours Busi was on his big vinegars and pulled out a diamond encrusted mobile phone which he repeatedly hit Campbell around the head whilst he came so hard he thought he was in a pussy car wash. "See how you like it, you jumped up f**king clothes horse" Kriss roared as Naomi's PA returned with twelve mochas and a Wispa bar with all the bubbles taken out for Campbell.

"Run free you stupid c**t" shouted Kriss to the PA as he pulled out his Andre cock out of the shattered floppy torso and slipped his dungs on. He better get to that after party before Regis sunk his Bismarck into the punch.

He looked down on the twisted pile of giant spermazota, magazine covers, shiny tits, a copy of her "novel" swan and clunge suds, bent over and whispered "Awooga" in her ear and patted her on the fanny.
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Old 18-04-10, 10:25 PM   #152
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He's got a book out!

http://www.lulu.com/product/ebook/ro...women)/6553999

Quote:
Dear Busi fans....

The messiah has returned! That's right, the creator of the busi stories is back with a vengence! Rofl Lundgren has been away for a while, but he has been working on a new book, of which is filled with more of the same side splitting humour.

http://www.lulu.com/product/ebook/ro...men%29/6553999

Please buy Rofl's new book, "Rofl Lundgren's Erotic Stories for Men." All proceeds go to Macmillan Cancer Support. It costs just £3.50.

So get involved show your support and get ready to laugh your genitals off.
Quote:
Rofl Lundgren brings you a collection of comic erotica or comrotic or eroticom or whatever you what to call it. All profits go direct to Macmillan Cancer Support. Lundgren takes you (and, to a lesser extent, you) on a journey through history. "Lundgren, after weeks of painless research, starts with our humble beginnings as cavemen and delivers us with the skill of a craftsman at the top of his game at significant and perilously erotic points in the annals of time".
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I was playing doctors and nurses with my female cousin. I was about 6 or 7, and we were inserting little toy stuffs in our bum holes. Does it count as snogging?
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Old 18-04-10, 10:31 PM   #153
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Nice one Shaggy, Great cause too...brilliant, and fair play.


Last edited by Vermilion; 18-04-10 at 10:35 PM.
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Old 18-04-10, 10:37 PM   #154
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Damn, just realised it's an e-book or in PDF format. I want a real book.
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I was playing doctors and nurses with my female cousin. I was about 6 or 7, and we were inserting little toy stuffs in our bum holes. Does it count as snogging?
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Old 18-04-10, 10:48 PM   #155
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Is it? That's a bit shit. It would make an immense coffee table book for when guests visited
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Old 05-10-10, 03:07 PM   #156
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Bump
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I was playing doctors and nurses with my female cousin. I was about 6 or 7, and we were inserting little toy stuffs in our bum holes. Does it count as snogging?
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Old 05-10-10, 03:10 PM   #157
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Quote:
Originally Posted by animal magic View Post
Akabusi was uncomfortable unless he was wearing a pair of dungerees or stark bollock naked so he walked into the Jimmy Savile Row tailors with trepidation. He needed a new suit for a Tanni Gray Thompson testimonial he was speaking at.

"If you could slip out of your dungerees, Mr Akabluisi" entoned the fay tailor. "It's Akabusi" said Akabusi as his laugh filled the cluttered shop like an arsehole on creampie.com.

Kriss let the straps of his denim dungerees snap and the fabric rushed passed his polished espresso chassis leaving him standing naked. The rarefied air of the tailors brushed against his black and curlies like a fart in a tanga brief and for a moment he felt like a black Messiah.

"Miss. Portensa will measure you up" said the tailor as he disappeared out back for a tug and a weep.

Portensa strolled into the room and immediately Akabusi felt a twinge in his king size plonker. She was wearing a little black dress which he knew concealed a fantastic pair of tits and almost certainly a clunge so tight it shopped at Poundland.

"Just relax, Mr Abakuski, while I measure your inside leg" she said with a French accent richer than a Guinness sh*t. As Kriss felt the cold metal of the tape measure climb up his leg, he could feel his black boa fill with blood quicker than tampon on the first day.

Before he knew Miss Portensa was handling his growing concern like Pat Jennings. She pulled apart her dress to expose her smooth white skin, epic bristols and a fanny more hairy than Richard Keyes back.

He ploughed into her like a tighthead forward and plunged his now diamond hard cock into her like he was staking Dracula. Within hours it was over, Miss Portensa a useless pile of tit, minge and spunk and Akabusi panting and sweating like a multiple rapist.

Akabusi rolled up his mickey and pulled on his dungerees. "What about the suit Mr Abakusi?" breathed Portensa.

"f**k it. I'll wear me dungerees. It's only Tanni f**king Thompson" roared Akabusi as he bent down over her bloodless torso, whisphered "Awooga" in her ear and patted her on the fanny.
This slays me every time :h aha:
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I was playing doctors and nurses with my female cousin. I was about 6 or 7, and we were inserting little toy stuffs in our bum holes. Does it count as snogging?
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Old 05-10-10, 03:22 PM   #158
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Quote:
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.
FLMAO!
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I was playing doctors and nurses with my female cousin. I was about 6 or 7, and we were inserting little toy stuffs in our bum holes. Does it count as snogging?
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Old 05-10-10, 03:25 PM   #159
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Just read this thread, its bloody hilarious.

"Wispered Awooga in her ear and patted her fanny"

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Old 05-10-10, 03:27 PM   #160
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"A fanny more hairy than Richard Keyes back"
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