It’s amazing how sooty gas is.
Its also amazing how much gas Sooty has.
Poor little guy has an arsehole that can take the paint off a building from forty paces.
I don’t know why.
Maybe he has a rare, bear form of IBS. Maybe it’s to do with a loose, flappy butt hole due to years of having a man’s hand stuck up there.
His sphincter is no longer a barrier to escaping wind.
There’s really no wonder he looks so fucking surprised all the time. Little, furry fella is fighting a constant battle against following through.
His is an expression that reads to those who can interpret such things as:
‘fart or shart, oh no, oh no, not again, I’m running out of trousers’.
Either way, IBS or loose butt flap, it’s the same result. A constant, noxious stream of toots is his daily life now.
Its a sad story really. It’s like the curse of Tutankhamen. Everyone who had anything to do with the Sootmeister has come a cropper one way or another.
Sweep got big headed when he found fame, thought he was untouchable and took shed loads of Class A’s. He now lives in an empty happy meal container on Southampton docks and for some reason only speaks Mandarin and refers to himself as ‘King Wiggly the Mighty, Ruler of the Disheveled Peanut and Emperor of Mars’.
Soo had a bad gambling habit and lost all her wealth betting on which of Piers Morgan’s teeth would fall out first. Stupid really as we all know Piers isn’t human and, therefore, has no teeth.
What you see is just a meat puppet. The real Piers is tiny, slimy and operates the ‘Morgan Suit’ from its left testicle.
These days Soo can be found hanging around Whitechapel selling her body for bamboo.
Matty Corbett narrowly avoided the fallout from Operation Yewtree when the filth realised that the only kink he had was putting his hand up the bottoms of small, furry bears which, while morally despicable, isn’t technically illegal.
Nevertheless, the shame broke him and he now lives as a hermit in a Tibetan cave. He spends his days putting on puppet shows for the local monks but they aren’t very good.
The shows, not the monks.
Although, to be fair, the monks aren’t that good either. They’re supposed to live a life of celibacy and wholesomeness yet there’s a pole dancing area set up in the monastery’s main hall and they are all partial to the “music” made by Nikki Minaj.
There’s a bunch of saffron robed baldies that ain’t ever finding Nirvana.
Ironically, if they listened to Nirvana instead of Minaj, they’d stand a better chance of obtaining Nirvana because Buddha himself, the cheeky, chubby, little headbanger, is a big fan.
Especially of ‘Jesus Don’t Want Me For a Sunbeam’, for obvious reasons.
He also likes ‘Star Trekkin’ by The Firm but no one really knows why.
Maybe, like me, it just makes him smile when faux Scotty sings: ‘You cannae change the laws of och see you Jimmy’
Anyway, Matty’s show, Granite and the Pebbles, is a terrible puppet show, also for obvious reasons, but old Matty no longer has access to a sewing machine so he works with what he’s got. Which is nothing but rocks and stones.
All the crew of the TV show were killed in a freak zeppelin crash in ’03.
Not the airship.
They were all in the back of a transit van when Jimmy Page of Led Zeppelin crashed into them on his new mobility scooter. Jimmy came away completely unscathed as he always does.
He sold his soul to the devil years ago and is immortal and cannot be hurt by mortal instruments.
Not even by a flying V or an original Les Paul!
Jimmy didn’t sell his soul for skill with the guitar like Robert Johnson, no, Mr. Page sold his soul for a single strawberry skittle.
Some would say that wasn’t a fair trade but the devil doesn’t really give a shit if he gets a rough deal. He’s the goddamn devil, why would he give a flying fuck about anything but a steady supply of hoof oil, pitchfork sharpeners and pointy tail warmers?
He’s got enough skittles to last an eternity and he prefers Opal Fruits anyway.
And, yes, they are still called Opal Fruits in Hell.
Why?
‘cos the devil says so, that’s why. Leave me out of it, Nigel, I don’t make the fucking rules but on this particular point I’m in agreement with Old Nick.
All the Sooty crew were instantly killed, because, you know, the curse and whatnot.
And Jimmy’s scooter was made of diamonds and just sliced right through the van and the crew, neatly cutting them all in half.
Anyway, what was I saying again? I don’t know.
It’s hot and I can’t sleep and my grey matter is leaking out me lug ‘oles.
I vaguely remember something about beans but, to be honest, I can’t tell truth from fiction anymore and that whole bean scenario may just have been a haricot fantasy.
Happy half-past two and fourteen seconds!
