Master Blaster Rules Barter Town

There was just something about the fella, something that didn't ring true then I saw him in the Prince of Orange drinking a Guinness. WTF? that is the drink of the Pope and his papal masses. I went up to him and demanded that he explain himself. He said (in his Scottish accent with American vowels) that he only drank the foul beverage to remind him of his bitterness towards all Catholics.

You know I should have pressed him more back then but the glint in his eye looked sincere, no wonder for he was in league with Satan the prince of lies himself.

He was laughing at the lost tribe of Israel (The Protestant Orange Order) an informer telling the Fenians about our secret handshakes and secret soiled underwear. No wonder I was grabbed by the Paddies in 1974. I was under cover as Paddy O' Fartly a peat digger from the Boglands I thought it was that I refused to call 'LONDON'derry just Derry or Free Derry that I got caught but no it was that Bastard.

He had finally cum out of the closet and he had also stopped hiding his Catholic tastes (priest cum) I was tied to a chair after having the shit kicked out of me and he walked into the room. I looked up and said, "what are you doing in my hoose?" and shouted for my wife to untie me.
Bastard laughed and said, "no one will help you now for you are tied and defenceless and now I shall go around and shoot you from behind, the Catholic way."

I had to know, "why bastard why are you so angry with the master race?" he shook his head, "my family were evicted from their cottage by the evil English landowner for playing our banjo music too loud, he took all our potatoes and the cow piss we were to boil them in."

"And this happened in Scotland?" I asked, he looked confused "och aye" he said with a Texan twang.
"Now you shall die Knudsen" he stepped behind me and put something to the back of my head, I felt a warm liquid drip doon my ear. Dirty fucking taigs I begged him to kill me but he had forgotten his gun so we agreed he would try at a latter date.

Now I look at his blog and the pictures doon the sidebar designed to give me a heart attack, me in a Celtic football strip and as a monkey grinding on his organ. Don't think I haven't noticed the unhealthy relationship with MJ.

Oh when I get this computer sorted out my Comments will load and I'll make some nasty remarks oh yes. Or I'll not bother who knows?



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