look no further...

Right...well...in news just to hand...

Apparently I'm the utter, utter cunt I'm looking for.

I'm not entirely sure what I did...but it must have been terrible, therefore I have cut my own fucking head off and will shortly be taking a dump in my neck...

and it wasn't curiosity that did it...

When I find the utter, utter cunt responsible for doing this to my Kitty Kat, I will come over to your blog, cut your fucking head off and take a large dump in your neck...

bicycle bicycle bicycle...i want to fuck my bicycle...

‘A man who admitted having sex with a bicycle in a Scottish hotel has been placed on the sex offenders' register for breach of the peace. Robert Stewart admitted to the crime Friday in Ayr Sheriff Court and is to be sentenced next month, Britain's Telegraph reported Saturday. Stewart was discovered last October by two maids who entered to clean his room during a stay at the Aberley House Hostel in Ayr, Scotland. "The accused was holding the bike and moving his hips back and forth as if to simulate sex," a sheriff's spokesman told the court.

We live in an age of intolerable double-standards.
A chick on stage, attempting to stuff everything from ping-pong balls to the space-shuttle Columbia into her snatch in full view of a paying audience…she’s an exotic entertainer.
Yet a man showing his bicycle a little affection in the privacy of his hotel room…he’s branded a sex-fiend.

Go figure…

in a perfect world...

A recent post by Angry Betty over at ’48 DDD’ got me thinking about grief.
Not the grief associated with a death in the family; the grief a man gets when he comes home later than promised from a night out with the boys.
What man hasn’t stealthily tried to break into his own home at 4am, get undressed and slide unnoticed into the bed, only to find the handbrake sitting there, arms crossed, waiting for an explanation ??

‘WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN ???’
‘Out with clients.’
‘YOU SAID YOU’D BE HOME BY TEN... IT’S FOUR O’FUCKING CLOCK.’
‘Sorry baby…they wouldn’t let me leave. It was awful.’
‘SO, WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING UNTIL NOW ???’
‘Nothing…just drinking…talking…watching sports on TV.’
‘BULLSHIT !!! WHY CAN’T YOU JUST TELL ME THE TRUTH BEFORE YOU GO OUT…WHY CAN’T YOU TELL ME YOU’RE GOING TO BE LATE…WHY DO I HAVE TO STAY UP TILL ALL HOURS WORRYING…ALL I WANT IS THE TRUTH…WHY, WHY, WHY…’

OK, beeotches…how does this sound ???

We ring as we’re leaving work (you remember work, right ??)…we say we’re going to the pub to get lashed. Then we’re going to leave the pub around 10 (the same time you’re expecting us home) and have a curry coz we’re so drunk no decent restaurant will let us in. At midnight we’ll be thrown out of the curry joint, so we’ll head to the casino and dump a week’s wages on the tables, making that weekend away to The Blue Mountains you were planning a complete financial wash-out. Angry at losing all our money, we’ll head off to the lap-dance emporium to wallow in self-pity, stuff money into strippers’ g-strings and have shaving cream rubbed into our suits. When our credit cards are eventually declined, we will drive home, stopping briefly for a lamb-kebab with extra garlic hummus, after which we will crawl into bed, pester you for sex, then fall asleep and snore for the rest of the evening…

And do you want to know why we don’t tell you all this before we go out; why we say we’ll be home at a reasonable hour in a reasonable state when we have no intention of doing either.
Because you say you can handle the truth…but you can’t.
Because you say you want the truth…but you don’t.
So it’s easier just to go out, have a splendid evening with our mates, come home with eyes like smashed ‘Jaffas’, ignore the grief and deal with it the next day.

That’s what a real man does…

hey santa claus you cunt...

For all you South-Westies looking for the perfect gift to send your kids in prison this XMAS, check this out.

You might have to save the image and blow it up for proper viewing.

As opposed to Sydney's South West, which is NOT worth saving but SHOULD be blown up...

just another month in...

Can anyone tell me which three words complete the following sentences taken from pieces in The SMH over the past month ??

Three men have been sentenced to life in prison and a fourth man to a maximum of 30 years in jail for a double fatal shooting in…

A seven-year-old girl has had surgery after being badly hurt in a hit-and-run in…

Police are investigating an apparent road rage incident which culminated in a shot being fired into a car in…

Police say a 6-year-old boy was inside a home during a fatal shooting in…

Police have charged a second man over an execution-style shooting in…

A man and a woman wanted by police were arrested in Western Australia last week over the shooting double murder of a boxer and his friend in…

Detectives are appealing for help from the public while investigating the shooting murder of a respected Aboriginal man in…

Hands up everyone who said 'Sydney's South West'...

and extra rudeness will be rewarded...

We've never had a competition here at TWG, however a recent post by my good e-friend 'Miss Smack' has inspired me. It seems there's a new job in the pipeline since she's just finished typing up the ten-million page report for 'The Govt Inquiry Into Some Stuff Which May Have Happened Somewhere' and rinsed out all the coffee cups.

We don't know the new employment details except that she received a phone call from someone who said:

"I'm ringing to formally offer you the position of_____ at______.

If you can't work the gist of the competiton out for yourself then I suggest you go and check out Kitty's photo on the post below. Actually, you should do that anyway; apart from anything else, the original photo is the major prize on offer in the competition.

I'll start.

My answer is: 'IMAX screen cleaner, Darling Harbour XXX MegaCinema'...

on the kouch with kitty kat...

It turns out that one of my favourite commenters is currently being treated for sex-addiction (SA). Personally, I find the affliction, with all its attendant faux-sluttiness, an enormous part of her charm but hey…
Anyway, I got to thinking; what sort of treatment do these hapless tragics receive?? Sex-addicts are shunned as malingerers by society for the most part, victims of a non-disease that just about everyone else seems to suffer in silent dignity. Of course, pieces of celebrity shit such as Michael Douglas have turned SA into little more than a doctor’s note absolving serial philanderers from their marital crimes.

So, in the interest of raising public awareness of SA, and with the permission of my friend Kitty, I’d like to reconstruct, from official notes, her initial consultation with her old shrink: Dishy Therapist.

Kitty: 'Hi there Doc, I think I’m addicted to sex?’
DT: ‘And what seems to be the problem?’
Kitty: ‘I really, really love sex. I love doing it, thinking about it, talking about it…anything to do with it.’
DT: ‘And what seems to be the problem?’
Kitty: ‘I’m obsessed with it. I fantasize about men, women, groups, toys…I flip myself off at least five times a day.’
DT: ‘And what seems to be the problem?’
Kitty: ‘I watch porn and post pictures of myself in my underwear on my blog.’
DT: ‘And what seems to be the problem?’
Kitty: ‘I have lesbian affairs with young mothers at my kid’s day care centre.’
DT: ‘And what seems to be the problem?’
Kitty: ‘Look, I need help. Are you going to treat this problem or not?’
DT: ‘Yes, of course. Please get undressed and lie down on that couch.’
Kitty: ‘Fuck me…I thought you’d never ask…’

PS...I had to break into DT's office and steal the photo from his filing cabinet...