Sunday, October 13, 2013

Throttle An Imbecile Week

    Over the past few days I’ve alluded — via tweets and Facebook comments and virtual custard splats flicked onto the backs of the spreadeagled dachshunds over at U-angst-on-eDog-GO.org.jp — to the concept of Throttle An Imbecile Week.

    Naturally, this was a joke — only I now find, super-post-hyper-subsequently naturally, that I MEANT IT.

    I’m truly sick of all the imbeciles in my life!

    You there, with the ludicrous nylon poncho, dreaming of becoming a have-a-go hero c/o some spazzmo random event!  Get the heck out of my way in the new unisex lavatory facilities at Birmingham New St station when all you want to do is ponce with your semi-prehensile sub-mohican and I’M BIRTHING A DOLPHIN-CHIHUAHUA HYBRID!

    And you, Mr New Shoes!  Ticky tackying along the street in your ticky tacky new shoes WHEN I’M LYING PRONE, PRACTICING HARD TO BECOME THE FINAL MEMBER OF THE 120-STRONG UK 2016 OLYMPIC SYNCHRONISED PERISTALSIS TEAM!

    As for you, Woman With A Third Of A Fag On, Staring Into Space On A Park Bench Twixt Infinite Dimensions To Which You Will Be Forever Blind, can you please either:

    a) Dock the Berkeley
    b) Be sucked into oblivion
or
    c) Tie Mr Ludicrous Poncho to Mr New Shoes, suffocate both with a bin liner, then DIE.

    Can’t you see I need that bench to help me rehearse my forthcoming cameo role as Mickey The Particularly Leaky Spaniel in the spontaneous urination scene of Gilbert & Sullivan’s HMS Pinafore at my local theatre this coming November?

    Grrr!  All of you are such IMBECILES!

    Living your lives with the laissez-faire, “don’t mind me Jack”, coccoonified insularity of a wasp-detecting cyberbot given free rein to zip and zop about the corridors and holds of some vast intergalactic trading vessel in search of insects capable of wrecking the ventilation system and plunging the zillion onboard inhabitants to their doom — and doing so when most of your fellow men aren’t even called Jack, especially the girl men!!!

    So, are you with me on this one, people?

    Are you ready to make next week THROTTLE AN IMBECILE WEEK?  To offer those dunderhead creeps not a single shred of mercy?

    If you’re game, let’s make a start at 8am GMT on Monday morning.  I’m ironing my throttling gauntlets RIGHT NOW in preparation, and will leave the comments trail open for a week for stories, comments, links to photographs of the recently throttled — and maybe even the glut of spam that regularly masquerades as a loyal follower base.

    “Don’t Flip — Get A Grip...”


2 comments:

fairyhedgehog said...

I very much fear that if I throttle the nearest imbecile it might be myself.

YMMV. Or not.

Whirlochre said...

This belongs in the Oxford Anthology of Quotations.

My brain has been duly bored by a LOL weevil...