Scotland Where The Weemen Are Smokin

Great news people even with the world wide recession that has caused many a depression the number of young people smoking in Scotland has returned to the fantastic levels not seen for the last 10 years.

In fact nearly a third of people between 16-24 are smokers. I am excited about this, when the world falls apart you can always count on Scotland.

The government says more needs to be done to start the smokers at an early age and are looking to Glasgow Airport hero John Smeaton to lead the smoking campaign.

John Smeaton holding up his medal for smoke breaks in the face of terrorism.

John Smeaton gained world fame when he kicked a suicide car bomber in the knackers while on a smoke break during the attack on Glasgow airport.

In the 16-19 age group, young women generally have higher smoking rates than young men. In the 20-24 age group, male rates exceed female rates. Yes the race is on.

A study in America sponsored by Marlboro has found that smoking makes you look cool and more mature. The second hand smoke from smoldering terrorists is twice more likely to give you lung cancer than tobacco.

Public Health Minister Shona Robison said: "We are committed to doing all we can to increasing smoking rates in Scotland - both by encouraging more smokers to start and encouraging young people to see it as part of our national identity."

In Old Knudsen's own special opinion if you kiss a woman and she doesn't taste like an old ash tray then she isn't worth a second shag. Ach I do miss the Killamory weemen, their facial hair tickled my balls in only the way a mannish Scottish woman could.

Gog bless you Smeato for you are the new Braveheart ................. smoking with asthma takes courage, you try it if yer man enough.

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Knudsen On Tour

I went over to Germany to visit my old mucker Mago. It was difficult as all of those cunts speak some demonic lingo and I couldn't find Franconia on a map.

I stayed at a Bed and breakfast. The woman who was a big fat pig looking type with her hair in braids and said, "There are no watch towers no barbed wire no hot water and breakfast is at 6am sharp, if you are late you shall be executed und laughing and having fun is Verboten."

The AA (Automobile Association for alcoholics) gave the place a good rating. The gallon of beer, sausage and shrewdal made from fresh Shrews was a hearty filling breakfast to start yer day with.

Germany had changed a lot since I had last been there, for one they weren't trying to kill me, they were still goose stepping and acting superior well until you mention the 2 wars and the 1966 world cup result.

I sped back to the UK through the Channel tunnel and up to Killamory for a visit. Those cunts couldn't understand me and said I had gone native when I mentioned how small everything was there, well I was at the fucking Lego village.

My best friend Billy one ear is doing bird for killing some bird I always knew there was something wrong with that fella. Sammy piss stain died in a freak accident, it seems he was knocked doon by a visiting freak show.

So I made my way to the airport before the authorities realised I was in the cuntry and I was surpried to see this.

But glad to see this.
Well that will teach me for trying to visit a fellow blogger without having their address or knowing what they look like. I have no idea why he won't give me his address.


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Pedo No Touching! Pedo No Touching!

I turned on a TV show called Dora the Explorer. I thought it was like that book 'The Rainbow' about the sexual awakening of a young woman. What I found was totally disgusting and damn well irresponsible.

You have this little Hispanic gurl named Dora. I don't know how old she is but she is young and by the size of her head she is doon syndrome or something. She has a pet monkey named 'Boots' who wears ............... boots, a monkey does not make a very good pet. I brought one home from my trip to Zambia once and caused an outbreak of Ebola in Killamory, you probably read about it in the papers small world isn't it?

Little simple Dora goes around jungles, oceans and mountains unsupervised except for her poo flinging companion and talks to all manner of strange beings such as Trolls, talking bulls and a big red Rooster or Cock if you will.

I had this all weekend sex fest once and I was left with a big red cock at the end of it all and really it wasn't in the mood for talking. Rubbed Raw not to be confused with that cattle rustling cunt Rob Roy.

Where are her parents? they don't care they just give her a backpack and a map, no fucking lunch or mobile phone, at least they could give her some margarine and sugar sandwiches .


"Today we are going to uncle Pedro's hoose. He is a sex offender who has just been let out for good behaviour. How do we get to Pedro the Pedo's hoose?"

"First we go to the titty bar, liquor store then Pedro's hoose."

I have called Child protective services many times only to have police Nazis cum to my door and tell me to stop making nuisance phone calls. Well maybe Americans don't care about their young uns but I believe that children are our future ............. or worse case scenario a source of food. Its bad that I get dinged for caring. Well from now on you'll see a different less caring Old Knudsen because you don't get any thanks for being a good person.


Now don't fucking annoy me with yer stupid causes I'm way too busy aiding in the exploitation of weemen who secretly love it. Now wiggle yer way over here lass I've got some Nickels to put into yer G-string, thats 5 cents right? I get confused as a dime is 10 cents and is smaller in size ......... stupid Yanks.
Slavs annoy the fuck out of me (no offense Tony you dirty 3rd world savage) and this is the only pole I want to see a gurl grinding up and doon on.


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You Go On, Don't Wait For Me

I've always wanted to be a waiter believe it of not. Ever since being a small child gazing up as the God like men in the little aprons filled up our glasses with snooty contempt and made us wait for our food as long as they wanted, that was true power, my mother would say to me, "Hey thingy, stop staring at the waiters, they're all gheyers you know, unless yer a gheyer of course" which would cause all my siblings and my father to laugh and call me gheyer for the rest of the afternoon, ah happy days.

I've only ever played at being a waiter in MI6 when I posed as one to poison a Russian diplomat or when Ethel cums round and we play a role playing sex game, "How about I serve you and I give you the tip madam?" "How rude, let me speak to the manager" she'd say in pretend outrage, " Here he is" as I unzipped my trousers, "Dick the manager, time to manage dick if you can handle it, if yer not full up you soon will be." Then I'd give her, her just deserts........ in the arse.

My waiting dream has cum true, eat yer black cold heart out manuel.

You've heard of those restaurants that serve sashimi, sushi or whale from the body of a woman, well Billy's Burgers in Killamory has gone upscale and has not only put in more seats and fixed the toilets but is doing that naked thing also.

You would think it was a sexy thing to do but here is the grim reality of it all.

One of the gurls or platters as we call them was on her period and one of the customers complained his steak was rare not well done, as soon as we realised that Mags the platter was on her moons we both saw the funny side and he happily ate his steak.

"Knudsen the crisps for table four is ready" (chips to you Yanks)

Its hard to get hot young gurls to work naked for £3.50 an hour so some of our platters are shall we say, big boned? Ok then some of our gurls are big meaty wagons but we worked this to our advantage by filling up their belly buttons with ketchup so as they lie on the table you dip yer chips (french fucking fries you Yanks) into them and the beauty is they fill them up themselves.

Here is Brenda one of our dippers, I hope thats ketchup.

I had a customer the other night who said, " theres a pube in my burger" so I said "what do ya want me to do about it?" and he replied " nothing I'm just telling everyone its fucking class man."
It was class cos his platter was the extremely hot Elena who gets more than £3.50 an hour from the owner.

Elena and her fur burger...........yummy, finger lickin good.

Some of the Killamory gurls need to work on their fucking manners but they aren't as bad as the hoors from Arbroath the only good thing in Arbroath is the number of VD clinics there are there but you could always do with more.

We have Tracy from Arbroath who we have had nothing but trouble with, we have told her not to smoke when she is lying on the tables as people feed off her naked body at least wait until they light up (fuck the no smoking laws) also stop farting too, when she gets up there is always a big wet patch and you have to scrub her table doon and air it out before you can use it again.

The only reason we don't fire her is because her arse is nice and deep and perfect for the hot fudge sundaes.

"I just want someone to get my fucking food, I'm a law student I know my rights, come see the violence inherent in the restaurant world ."

Fuck I hate mouthy students.

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Top Boob Inspector

During the Thatcher regime in Britain we enjoyed having a ton of horny Yank soldiers over, it almost reminded me of the war when I was selling an hour of my three sisters time for American nylons and chocolate, that was during my fat cross dressing phase that I don't want to talk about .
Retirement had bored me plus my sisters had seriously gone doon hill in the last 40 years so I signed up for the Killamory jet fighter school at the local US military base.

We all had to be given nicknames or call signs, I had a flatulence problem at the time so I was named 'Loosecannon' the navigator how would fly with me was named 'Duck.' One day we got a top flight instructor call signed Charlie. I was expecting some bloke to come walking in and what do you know I was right, he did have lovely long blonde hair though. Charlie went through a dog fight scenario and then asked what I would do, I frowned as if I was giving it some thought but really it was me hemorrhoids acting up and I answered "Kick his pan in" Charlie said that was too aggressive, too intense but I knew he liked me, in a strictly military way of course.

While flying with Duck on a training flight we spotted a couple of Zebulon fighter saucers, now those damned dirty aliens know better than to mess with Earth after the last time (The battle of Roswell 1947) but they were taking the piss. My instruments told me they had their space rays locked on and I couldn't avoid them so I shouted, "duck" and he said "what?" so I shouted "duck, duck!" but it was too late for Duck to duck and he got zapped, yep his goose was cooked alright.

The plane went out of control, I'm not violent by nature but I punched us out of the cock-pit, ever been punched in the cock-pit? its fucking sore, why do they make men's bikes with a high cross bar you can land on? designed by men-haters, er I mean feminists no doubt.

We landed in the freezing sea off the Scottish coast, the water would kill a Sassenach or Yank in 15 minutes but not me, being an old seman I tasted the water and I could tell what current I was in, I'd be close to land in about 6 hours, yay! oh they don't bother looking for us as their budget for the 'Killamory expendables' was quite limited. I held onto dear dead Duck and waited to drift home and hoped for his sake we'd get picked up before I got hungry.

Getting back to the base Charlie consoled me about losing Duck, no really the morgue lost him. I wanted to teach the Zebulons a lesson so after a BJ, shower, shite and shave I went looking for another plane. Stabber was recovering after a knife fight so I took his plane along with his navigator Emo. After hearing about how no one understands him and that he just doesn't like navigating he cares about it oh and don't forget the crying we took off in search of some revenge.

We jetted through the air and I shouted, "I feel the need, the need for some crack" but all Emo had were a few damp acid tabs so I took them.

On my CB radio I could hear there was a dogfight in progress, the Zebulons had cum out of the sun and shot doon Zipper, Ice-cream man was holding his own, I said, "we lose no more men today" and revved the plane up to 55 mph, I meant business.

Ice-cream man was panicking, "bogeys all over me" he shouted, I spoke up, "use yer sleeve like everyone else ya cunt" and set to work attacking the Zebulons. I shot doon two and the other three bugged out.

When we returned to base Ice-cream man came over to me and said "you! you can wipe my nose anyday" and placed a cap on my head that said Top Gun on it, I was able to exchange it for one that said "boob inspector."

Charlie got reassigned which is just as well I've had enough unhealthy relationships in my time, with my new hat I got all the pussy I wanted and weemen too.

I wrote a song about Charlie called, "Take my breath away" it was about how I was allergic to his aftershave and couldn't breathe.

I sold my story to some Yank with more money than sense, no idea why he wanted it of course I left out how we carpet bombed the Zebulon homeworld to stop their attacks, its hard to attack when you are neck high in carpets and the Zebulons aren't very tall.

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My Brilliant Career

Money making schemes and other Mr Meaners or how not to make money.

The wedding of Urma Cuntbox to Arnold Meaner, well they thought they were married.

On a toilet in a mansion in Memphis in 1977 the bottom fell out of my world . I had been an Elvis impersonator one of the top ones in killamory in fact hoping to retire before I got old. I had gone through my hip wiggling phase, my sweaty phase, my fat phase and my fat sweaty gospel phase but the old voice box wasn't holding up too well and rather than cut back to 60 ciggies a day I gave up singing.

I took to Officiating at weddings as Elvis and in my time I had married over 2000 couples but the Elvis thing was over and every nutjob was doing it and making it look ridiculous .

Old Knudsen had to adapt and reinvent himself so I looked around to see what else was big, besides I wasn't actually qualified to marry people.

Who do the kids love ? I asked myself and so I became a Michael Jackson impersonator and opened up a daycare. One day people stopped bringing their kids over and the police came round and asked all sorts of questions, I think the Catholic Church next door was freaking them out .

After that the only real money I made was when I sold David Kildorf's Apple operating system to Bill Gates for 50,000 dollars.

Mr Gates is amazing all he started out with was a newspaper round the clothes on his back and a small paper bag, of course he did have 100 million dollars in the paper bag.

If you mix the DNA of Stephen Hawking who is well known for talking funny.

And the DNA of Montgomery Burns.

You get Bill Gates. Can you see it?


I dabbled for a bit with plastic surgery but due to something called 'infection' I was forced to move and change my name.

I got into the oil business as all of those cunts are rich.

I went to Kuwait in 1990 and showed them this thing called horizontal drilling, we don't need no stinking borders. The Iraqis took exception and well I don't want to talk about it because that led to my 4th mental breakdoon .

I became a wandering breakdancing crime fighter in Slovenia and then I hooked up with a religious group called Heaven's Gate, they weren't for me to be honest I mean I thought I was nuts.

I did manage to part some of them from their hard earned cash by selling them track suits and trainers.

For those mongs who can't find Killamory on a map its that way, does it hurt you being so stupid?

I have since got my sanity back and am looking into selling real estate in Killamory, Donald Trump has expressed an interest as he wants to build a big golf course for rich homosexual types as thats who play golf.

I shall also be selling signed photos of me arse and as that cunt Manuel is selling badges because you know about those waiters and their bits of flare I shall be selling t-shirts as modelled by my good friend Alan who is from Belfast.

Alan has been missing for the pass 2 weeks and his family are very worried.

Actually I sold him to a pair of doctors over in Edinburgh but don't tell.

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Are You Taking The Piss?

I was just kicking back and chilling with my old mate Bruce Boxleitner who you may remember from the TV series Bring em back alive and the hit film Tron.
He prefers to come over to Killamory rather than me going to his Hollywood home because his wife Melissa Gilbert gets freaked out when I stare at her with my hands in my pockets.
I don't know what her problem is, big star huh? Old Knudsen does what he does, you might as well beat a dog for licking its balls, I wish I could do that lick a dogs balls I mean.

Bruce is a few years from being 60 but hes already talking about his own mortality. I added to his fears by saying he didn't look too well.
After a few drinks I swore I'd look after Melissa for him because we were best fucking mates.
We got to talking about legacies. I've heard that word 'legacy' a lot, mostly its when a politician is on the way out he'll actually do some work to make people remember his legacy.

Blair is taking credit for the shaky peace in Northern Ireland and Bush is trying to bring peace to Israel and Palestine by going to everywhere but Palestine giving his support, money and weapons.
When OJ Simpson dies how will he be remembered ? as a football player or a murderer who got away with his crime ? Michael Jackson's music will be overshadowed by him being a pedo as will Gary Glitter.
Phil Spector however won't be remembered for being a crazy fuck who shoots weemen, oh no he'll be remembered for a fucking wall of sound.
Hitler gets the moustache and the holocaust while Mussolini had the trains running on time theres no rhyme nor reason.

What first comes to my mind when I think of Elvis is dying on the toilet, the place where most heart attacks happen because of the straining involved, its ironic that he died constipated and then as you die you shit yerself I don't believe he got it doon the bog though.

When you normal people die and you haven't achieved the Blog greatness that I have I wonder what you'll be remember for.
I've known two guys who have died over the years , when family members clear out their houses they have had a large bottles filled with piss beside their chairs.
One of them (a relative of mine) had served on the HMS Illustrious during World War II but he'll be remembered for having a bottle of piss beside his chair.
Everyone knows that I blog on a commode so I don't have to get up and go and have a shit also its doon to 40% chance of me actually making it to the bog.
I think a commode is more socially acceptable than a bottle.

I'm looking into a heart monitor that I'll wear like a watch and so if I died incendiary devices will go off in the cupboard I keep my sex doll and stack of ghey porn also in the cabinet where I keep all the classified extra super top secret documents I borrowed from various governments.
I wonder if there is a way to wipe the hard drive of my computer so no one can see what pictures I've doonloaded.


What will family members find if you died today ? I'd rather be remembered as the Greatest Blogger in the world who banged Sophia Loren in the ass in 1967 while George Peppard watched and who killed the Great White Panda of the Pennines at the cost of his leg than, "oh yeah, that's the cunt who had the 2 litre bottle of piss beside his chair, lazy fucker."

Get off yer lazy arse and go use the toilet or a sink or something.

Most of my posts start with a message and degenerate into some perverts idea of a happy ending.

Old Knudsen is a romantic soul, On my 5th wedding I wanted to express just how much I loved my bride to be, either Sally or Sara was her name.

She was hot and had the most extraordinary luck ever, she used to go out at night for a few hours and come home and tell me how she just found £300 on the ground.

Then when our first baby was born and he turned out to be Asian her secret was out, it seems she was a distant relate of Ghengis Khan which is why she looked white but could have a half Asian baby, I didn't mind for I knew old Ghengis, what a laugh he was at least the baby was mine .

So back to our vows, I can remember it like it was yesterday except it wasn't yesterday which I only have partial memory of. I stood there while the policeman burned away in the flaming wicker effigy and I solemnly said, "Dear Sally or and Sara, as long as I have a face, you have a toilet."

Yes female readers I do know what weemen want.

Our marriage only lasted a few years as Sally or Sara was murdered by the Aberbrothock Slasher who went around killing prostitutes, he must have mistaken her for one. She used to wear micro mini skirts in the dead of winter, not very practical I used to say but she like her fashions. I shielded little Charlie Chan our son from some of the accusations made. People can be cruel.

As you can see the post about Vince Vaughn is still up, I believe I can last more than 3 weeks.

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