You Never Forget The First Time.

Firm young buttocks, tongues exploring every cavity in each other's teeth and tasting dinners. Blood, semen, feces and fanny batter, sucking, licking, slapping and biting, a can of beans a loaf of bread and a bottle of salad cream, thats what I need from the shop, enjoy the post.

Warning, do not read this post if you are easily nauseated by the thought old Old Knudsen having sex, are pregnant or may become so or operate heavy machinery while intoxicated , this post contains extreme graphic sexual content of an extremely graphic nature , no bar graphs were hurt during the making of this post.


I was born and lived most of my early life in the village of Friggadoon at the mouth of Loch lorna. That was back when the Loch was teeming with fish and had it's own monster, and all the seaweed you could eat.
I was a young man so naive about the world beyond the human skulls on posts that marked the village boundaries that I thought Euthanasia were chinky school kids, in fact it was only since I started to see NHS Doctors that I heard this term a lot as they keep suggesting it as the ultimate cure for all my ills, they said the risk was worth it.

So I was an idiot as a youngman , all I thought about was my fuzzy mustache that made me look cool, how low should my sideburns be and my souped up Donkey cart with the go faster strips and the 'NO FEAR' decals.
Me and my mate Ned would tear around the village at 5 miles per hour with Reckless Abandonment, people would indeed shake their fists at our antics. Reckless could be a bit of a twat after sniffing one too many rotten herrings, he just never knew his limit at when to stop, the red ones always put him into a fighting mood. I could explain how the seeing red expression came from Reckless and his herrings but you'll have enough trouble getting through this post as it is due to yer Goldfish attention spans.
It was mostly just Ned and I. closer than brothers we were, sometimes we would rough house in the tall grass, "I'd say, I'll get ya in the tall grass" and we would laugh oh how we would laugh and then engage in the Highland ritual of the MacDirty Sanchez.
Things changed one summer when Molly Lochlann started to notice my manly stance and tight bulging trousers. Molly was a big brawny gurl and was the young ladies bare knuckle champion for the village, maybe it was the busted nose that went across her face rather than up and doon or maybe it was her gurlish giggle as she would pick me up and fling me at walls but she awoke feelings in my groin that Ned couldn't understand and once called me Ghey for trying to explain it, so Ned and I parted ways which was odd as I suspect he may have been an imaginary friend, I still see him now and then, hes the one that tells me to kill all the hoors, a strange
fella. One day the mists that surrounded the village cleared and an American couple stumbled in taking pictures and shouting "Top 'O' the morning to you", odd people, maybe that was an American greeting. They went on about how small everything was and why wasn't anyone wearing kilts? and that in America they had running water, you couldn't drink the stuff due to the Perchlorate in it but at least it ran, unlike ours that just ambled.

We enjoyed their foolishness with their loud talking and cowboy hatted ways for an hour or so then we decided to sacrifice them to the fire God Mac Logi Greine and have a feast to honour their gift to us, did anyone notice Texas was short of two of it's finest citizens? it was a fine party, those two fat fuckers not only fed the whole village with the usual leftovers but gave us enough soap for 5 years (we don't use that much to be honest but it was still a lot) Molly was tipsy on Buckfast and kept giving me the eye, I thought it was creepy and told her to keep it in her head, after a few drinks meself Molly started looking better and better and before you knew it we were up bumping and grinding to the bagpipes and bodruns, half way through Jimmy Findlater , she dragged me to the ancient stone fertility circle where we made love on the stone altar for a rough and fumbling 30 seconds (I was young damn it, now that's almost doubled) she sat astride me like a rodeo rider not releasing her grip until she got hers, then we lay there half naked with the freezing air making my useless man nipples pop up like corks, she gazed at my white ultraviolet body glowing in the moonlight with admiration for I had only broken 2 ribs during our sexual melee, I had passed her requirements with flying colours .
We walked along the cliff tops and feasted on any Puffins we could find as was our way, even now as I bite into a warm Puffin comically trying to fly away with its tiny wings I remember the first time I had sex (terms and conditions may apply sex with any other entity not being the point of this story)
I left the village just before dawn before the mists closed in again and before Mr Lochlann came round insisting that I get married. With my 10 gallon hat on, a fist full of traveler's cheques and a visa card "God bless America" I set out to see the world.

About 20 years later I did go back and visit Friggadoon, it had all changed, they had a Spar a video shop that boasted a full Chuck Norris collection (but not Walker damn it)
instead of a Witch Doctor they had a NHS health clinic so no change there, they still didn't have a policeman as they kept burning those boys in giant wicker men (HA! I knew I could get that in somewhere)
Molly hadn't married, she opened a pub called the 'Horny Viking' she had long held the title of the village bike and had adorned the walls with medals, trophies and used condoms in frames with names dates and times on them, very thorough , she had a son in his early 20's, probably from her promiscuous ways , he was called Randy, a wee shite if there ever was one, always had something to say and always talked out of his arse, a good looking lad but I couldn't stand him.
The Puffins were gone, all my family had moved on, a Presbyterian church stood on the stone circle and I no longer felt like I had a connection with the place. I did find find out about the mysterious mist that surrounded out village though, Hammer Films used to make a load of Dracula and Werewolf movies doon the road and had more smoke machines than Duran Duran.

Cause This Is Filler, Filler Night.

A nice cup of Rosie Lee until I post again, no ya fuckers I don't have Ginger nuts, I shave em.

Cool yer jets people, I had a rough day of it, can't talk about it until I've been debriefed, deflowered and deloused. Bloody governments and their secrets, can't wait to give all you bastards some cutting remarks in the comments as you all need to be taken doon a peg or two. My next post will be about how I lost my virginity, so many of yous may want to avoid this blog for a while as its me having sex, look at my avatar (if you can find it, me sidebar slipped again) and ask yerself if you're ready to think about me having sex, Robyn don't read it.

Does This Robot Arm Make Me Look Fat?

I've had this post knocking about my drafts for a while now, its an amazing story and while I'm on the subject of limbs I thought I would post it, my other post was full of naked weemen which I found just too tasteless to post, I mean who wants to see that? so heres this one instead.

I don't know if you have heard about this guy or not but not only is he amazing but the technology attached to him is too.
In 2001 Jesse Sullivan a former electrical company lineman from Dayton Tennessee took two massive jolts of electricity in an accident and since then has had the ability to read minds, no wait I'm confusing fantasy and reality again, damn those painkillers.
No, Mr Sullivan burned his arms so badly that they had to be amputated at the shoulders, the poor man can't remember the accident and only remembers the depression afterwards, thinking his life was done.
Seven weeks later a Dr Todd Kuiken from the rehabilitation institute of Chicago had him fitted with a thought controlled bionic left arm, they in a sense rewired the man, they grafted the pects in his chest to the nerves in his shoulders and his brain now thinks it has hands again and can move them.
I was watching this guy on some late night techie convention thing where they were up on stage explaining the whole thing to other doctors and the media, some soppy woman asked Mr Sullivan if his wife ever touched his chest so it would feel like they were holding hands, Mr Sullivan looked at her as if that had never occurred to him and replied, "no" I'm sure because he knows what his wife's hand now has to wipe lines of intimacy have been well crossed, no more cutesy stuff.
Dr Kuiken had a funny story at how Mr Sullivan broke several of the bolts on his new arm trying to start up a petrol powered lawn mower, well he wouldn't had thought it so funny if it was him paying for to have it fixed.
Mr Sullivan's right arm is a conventional prosthesis that can just open and close it's hand, his bionic left arm now has attachments for a leaf blower, angle grinder and a nose and ear hair trimmer, the research team are now working on a way to make the bionicman na na na na na na sound when he bends iron bars.

Thankgod he can still hold a pint there is a reason to go on.


At the age of 59 Mr Sullivan hopes to be an example to amputee soldiers returning from Iraq and Afghanistan to show them that there is a chance at a more normal life. The man is an example to us all, I doff my cap to you sir.

An inspirational story for my 300th post, if you're old, fat and ugly gurn up, at least you probably still have yer arms, if you don't well um sorry but on the off chance of you being an old ,fat ,ugly armless person you are one unlucky shite, hey it could be worse, if we were on a boat I'd throw you overboard for being a jinx.

Another True Story.

It took alot to finally write this story , no don't call me a hero. I'm just a guy doing his job, well ok you can call me a hero.

You may have guessed by now that Old Knudsen is the man that others call when the situation is such that civilised people flap like headless chickens and pee doon their legs. Old Knudsen keeps his head, he goes into battle already dead so you can't harm him and he counts his rounds as he fires them off.
A couple of years back, so you may remember this amateur hunter doon in the Pennine mountains shot a bear but only wounded him, the hunter being a lazy towny didn't bother to follow him to finish the job and the bear killed 2 lesbian campers.
The fish and game wardens didn't want to go up against it as they were having a work's do (party) at the weekend because someone was retiring and were really looking forward to it besides it was neither fish or game so they put in a call to me, well actually it was to my son Trevor as I never answer the phone unless I'm expecting a call because I'm notorious among the book, music and video clubs for not paying after the first initial bargain, don't judge me people Britannica is run by puppy killers, well that's how I justify it.

Trevor came to the door and as usual I said "what the fuck do you want? make it fast or I'll turn the hose onto you" which is funny as I don't have a hose, God is my waterer. Trev as I sometimes call him or ,'you constant disappointment' told me of the bear situation and that they needed the Storm Bringer, that's me.
I got Trevor to set the timer for Emerdale (a famous soap that's really called Emerdale farm) as at that time it had Lady Tara in it and I think I may love her, and Kathy. I got my killing gear together and got into the mind set of death.
Trevor drove me doon complaining all the way about having to be up in 4 hours to go to work, what a whiner why can't he be more like his brother ?
I tracked the beasty from the point where the hunter shot it. I got a good sniff of the hunter's scent Hi-Karate, he'd be next on my list.
The death toll was up to 3 dead, some accountant that likes to hike had an appointment with doom, maybe he should have calculated the odds of a bear attack.
The Bear was heading to high ground to die, he was getting insane with the pain , God help anyone that stood in his way.
I tracked him to a cave, I could smell the blood in the air, blood ,fear and feces the blood was all his, I have stomach problems .
He was waiting for me and I was waiting for him to make the first move, I pulled out my David Bowie knife, its nice knife but double edged you know it cuts both ways I wanted to dispatch the bear claw to claw with honour.
I move forward , the bear came racing out in full berserker rage, a split second of panic over took me, for once Old Knudsen had made an error, much like the time in Bangkok with that gurly boy but that ended ok.
The bear I had been tracking was none other than the legendary *Great White Panda* of the Pennines, more ferocious and blood thirsty than yer standard Panda for this one dips its bamboo into blood before it eats it.
The battle was epic, and with even more feces, hey I couldn't help it I bought this tuna and onion bap and it had corn in it, and as you corn goes right through me, bloody New world foods.
We fought like warrior poets but without the ghey poetry stuff, the bear slashed, I stabbed, sometimes swiftly and sometimes in slow motion or so it seemed, we were both bloodied and tired, my old Bowie knife had snapped in two, well it was a good knife in it's time. I glanced over to my side and saw my left leg hanging on by a mangled thread, NO! I screamed in my head, I just bought those trousers 12 years ago, now I was angry, the bear was regrouping and getting it's strength for the final conflict, I ripped off my leg and as the bear charged I beat it to death with my severed limb.

I used some bungee cords to attach my leg on until I was out of those mountains as the weather can just change at a moments notice and have you trapped, I had skinned the creature and fed on it's heart to take it's power and I found a nice wee bracelet in it's belly contents, Trevor's wife whatever her name is having a birthday soon. Yes Old Knudsen does think about others, he is a many faceted individual.
I followed the spores of the Hunter to a pub called the 'Drained Cock' I still had my rifle but I wanted to enjoy this so I put a tiny kitchen devil knife up my sleeve and walked in.
I went straight up to the bar where a figure dressed in plaid was hunched over drinking some kind of wine cooler, I said "are you the idiot that wounded a bear up on old sexual peak? " he slowly turned, I braced for a glass being shoved at me or the sticky wet of cooler , the man looked at me with large bulbous blue eyes and said "yeah, do you have a problem?" it was the famous actor Hugh Laurie, me being a fan of Jeeves and Wooster , Black Adder and a bit of Fry and Laurie went all giggly, "no I don't have a problem, is Stephen Fry here? remember when you said Herne the horny hunter, had an enormous horn? that was so funny".
We had a pleasant evening of drinking and humorous story telling until I passed out through lack of blood and excessive alcohol .
No idea how I got to the hospital, Hugh left when I hit the floor as his agent had called, busy man he is.
And that is the story on how I lost my leg to the great white Panda of the Pennines, the gospel truth, which means you can believe this as literally as the bible which it totally fact, like this post, got it?

Had I known that Hugh Laurie would end up playing a Yank Doctor in Hoose I would have gutted him, fucking traitor, ah well its not his fault America is full of crap actors, show them how its done lad.


*as you can tell its not not very white,well the great white shark isn't so great, I didn't name the bloody thing, I just looked into it's eyes of death, anyway fuck off I don't want to talk about it*.

Hitler Is The New Gandhi .

I like ze big weit Aryan boobies that I can sticken mien face into and go flubbalubalub.

There is a growing fascination by the young people in India about Adolf Hitler, he has come to being thought of as cool and trendy, a funny looking frumpy little man with a farting problem is cool? theres hope for me yet, then again have you seen those Bollywood films they make? what a pack of shite, 20 people all doing the same dance moves and the lead man wearing a black string vest and white trousers cos hes sexy.
A Hindu fundamentalist party Shiv Sena has praised Hitler's leadership skills and the fact that he was willing to get rid of the trouble making Muslims.

Howabout you all get out of yer Wigwams and stop smoking on the auld peace pipe for a minute lads, they don't know shit about Hitler.
They all gloss over the Holocaust incident thingy as that's not so cool. Hitler was a crackhead incharge of a nation of bullies that needed to kick ass to feel better about themselves, he had a dependency on laxatives to try to keep his weigh doon, this fucked up his stomach hence the farting and cramps, he was on uppers and downers, his own private quack gave him a booster cocktail of narcotics to keep him going but you can only keep this up for so long, he'd sleep all day and because his hands shook so much he never went out, he hardly made decisions anymore, his underlings would do what they thought Hitler would do WWHD?
Yep that's some leadership going on there.
Hitler thought that the Indians (in India) were descended from the original Aryan race who were all blonde haired and blue eyed with giant penis' and the ability to fly just like Hitler himself, he also used the swastika which was the Hindu symbol for good luck so no wonder the Indians love him, little do they know he'd be dipping them all into bleach if he had the chance.
In Mumbai an Adolf Hitler themed restaurant opened, it was called Hitlers' Cross , many were horrified but a week later they changed the name to Hitlers' Ring, no only kidding to Cross Cafe with a swastika in the place of the 'O' those that founded it a Puneet sabhlok 22 and a Shakir Siddiqui 27 don't seem to know a great deal about Hitler other than he was a dictator with gas chambers. At the Rhythm House video store in Mumbai the documentary Hitler a carreer is sold in the children's section, the young people like Hitler, the stupidity of youth astounds me constantly. Brown Hindu Nazis well as soon as I see that I will have seen everything and can die in peace.

Pole Dancing Perverts.

Tony from Bench (on my sidebar) was just talking about his family from Bialystok in Poland and guess what popped up on my shite meter? yes the city of Starosielce in Bialystok, for fuck sake its a small world, and of course they were searching for 'pedo' maybe its the name of one of their friends.

Transatlantic Geography Cup

Well done to Team America for winning the Internet geography contest you beat the British by winning with over 4,000 points which is fucking atrocious considering there were 31,000 more of yous . I don't know who should be more embarrased, the Brits for losing to Yanks or the Yanks for scraping through. Americans aged 18 - 25 only 37% could find Iraq on a map and less than 50% could locate New York state. The future indeed, boy am I looking forward to dying.