An Open Letter to Blogspot.com
Dearest tits,cunts,dykes and fairies.
I've 'ad just about bloody 'nuff of you and your sorry depraved lot
I have spent a good 20 hours of my precious time on my Bold New Work, 15 of which were lost as I tried to reason and reckon out how you kept bloody fucking up and strewing bits of html about bloody cyberspace.
Have put off Final Release again and again. In desparation, was compelled to reluctantly let out a promotional tease to hold off the backers.
Should fucking well be long done and published by now.
No pattern, just bloody fucking random acts of butchery taken to my work.
Dirty Cockney street snipes. You lay about the gutter all day in your bloody filthy excrement.
Buck up and wrench your foamy chins from the pavement. For God, Queen and fair England, I say, You parasites had better change your tune.
I'll put Intelligence on you the next time this happens.
The Pakies can't wait to take you over and grind their heels into you like the stink'n cockroaches you are.
I did my best to cut, resave in numerous new drafts, Word, and emailed to myself.
Only thing that kept me the least bit sane.
Buggers!
Fix your bloody mess our I'll find you and hang yer bollocks over your forehead, cocks!
Repectfully,
Admiral Winston "Wacky" Wog, RAF, retired, loonie.
posted by PK at 6/19/2006 06:34:00 PM
2 Comments:
Now that wern't very nice, wer it Guv?
We so named gutter snipes are a sorry lot, agreed.
But we need to earn our biscuits and ale same like every bloke.
Meet me up the pub on Muswell Hill after tea. Chatham Common if you prefer.
Buy me a pint of Guiness or two and we'll settle this right and proper like Englishmen.
Me old gramps fought the bloody Kaiser and what did he get but missing limbs, mustard gas blindess, trench foot and shell shock. Nothing as much as a fair thee well.
My dear old Admiral, I am the rsult of gamps' legacy.
If we weren't colecting all the bloody filthy giberish speaking former subjects from the colonies, perhaps a decent English gent could make am honest and decent enough daily wage.
It weren't my first career choice to be an html whacker for the Krays but it bears repeating that a blokes gotta do what a blokes gotta do.
See you ad the Royal Cock and Bull, eh? 'OW bout it cock?
Percy Kilbride IV. Eastend 4JH.
Lay off me specialists. they serve a very useful and profitable service, especially when doddering old decrepits like you foul up the blogosphere with such rubbish.
I'd fancy meeting you on friendly terms, but I'm afraid I can only promise a late night visit if you insist on invading me turf.
Consider yourself forewarned, cock.
Seymour Kray
Businessman
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