You know, I used to be funny; I used to tell jokes that would make men respect me, and women lose enough respect for themselves to sleep with me. In fact, I once told a joke so funny that one reader literally busted a gut and had to have stitches. Get it, I left him in stitches? See, I told you I’m not funny anymore. The question is why? Have I contracted a neurological disorder that has damaged my humour lobe? Do I have osteomyelitis of the funny bone?

What seems to be the issue here? I have drank an entire fifth of funny fuel (KB Lager) and yet, I’m not crackin’ ace jokes, in fact, the only thing my fat arse is cracking is the over burdened task chair below me. Maybe I’ve picked up a bizarre form of Creutzfeldt–Jakob disease, I did get a paper cut from a Crutchfield catalog the other day. Maybe I caught some prion, while I was driving my Scion. See, even my puns aren’t punny anymore.

I mean, I’m not on my ‘A’ game today, I’m not even on by ‘B’ or ‘C’ game; I got less game than a paraplegic in an arse kicking exhibition. Let me tell you how off my game is, the other day, found myself up the Boohai huntin’ pukekos with a long handled shovel, and I was playing the dozens with some shonky ocker who lives out in Woop Woop somewhere. I’m thinking that I’m winning, when I see he’s got something in his hand, so I ask him; “What’s that you’re grippin mate?” He says “it’s a bloody wigwam for a goose’s bridle, ya seppo.” So, I stand there, trying to come up with a witty comeback, and nothing; so I hit him in the face with a my torch and proceeded to skull my last KB and skedaddle out of there.

Update: HOLY HELL SOMEONE HACKED MY SITE. If anyone posts shit like this, it’s Maddy and Richy fuckin’ with my shit.

Update: Disregard that, I suck cocks.