Monday, April 02, 2007



Hello children. Come on in. That's right, come in. Don't cry now, I'm not going to hurt you. Sit yourselves down 'cos it's time for a story.

And that story is this:

And it goes likes this:

Which is:

The Stabbing Robot is dead. He died over the weekend. He went to a better place with Inca inscriptions on the wall and low fences for his sheep to jump over. I shall miss that stabbing robot but not as much as I miss his dream machine with it's magical pictures of wizards and bowling alleys. Here are a few memories I have of the robot and all his high-jinks (the dead bastard):

- He once got a robot disease which meant he shat and puked at the same time. Good job that bath was near the toilet.

- He once laughed very hard at the thought of two brothers having sex with each other.

- I once saw his testicle. Huuuuuueeeeeerrrrrrkkkkkkkk!

- Muppets running.

RIP Stabbing Robot. You big cock.

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