Just Turds.

I'm finally out of prison and I'm looking forward to drinking the royalties that built up during my time inside.
There's been pressure building in my arse for months now that still hasn't shifted. Several times a night these last few nights I've woken up, covered in stale dry shit, desperatley wanting to change skids that I'm no longer able to change. The fuckers seem to be stuck to me. It is a terrifying thing to accept that when I've shit myself on particular days sometime at the end of last year, it solidified, and my skids are now set forever.
I woke up lying in the park at 3am last night trying to force a load out, trying to remember the feeling of laying a brown egg, of the serenity in squatting. I eventually remembered 'shit...scoop...and.. smell the freshness, and then lob it at some random passer by, But I couldn't get any comfort from even a turtles head of it. I'm bunged up solid!

They are just turds I keep telling myself, just, just turds... But it hasn't been easy letting go of them.

Abandon Hope.

Spent the last couple of weeks in an alcohol fueled haze.
What with the advance from the magazine deal, and another advance for my screenplay, I'm rolling in fucking cash, and soaking in cider!

There was a bidding war between 'Scat Monthly' and 'Poo Patrons Periodical' for my story, and 'Scat Monthly' won, and paid me a large wad of cash. So, now I have somewhere to live.
It's only a small room, newly decorated, and smelling of fresh shit. Somewhere to sit my unwiped arse, and lay my lice ridden head.

At the top of the house, there is a small kitchen, where the houses other occupants smoke crack, and make some new bird called Anya suck their cocks for beans on toast. She eats hungrily, with the beans glistening in the sun, and the toast dripping with cum. The concentration she puts into each bite, clear to see on her jutting out forehead.

Each night I've trekked back to the laneway, to gather up more of my belongings, and it was there that I discovered the body of a cripple that I had forgotten I had murdered. He had on a pair of boots that would have served me well last winter had I only remembered.

I never realised how much stuff I had robbed over my time in the laney laneway. Wallets, cameras, clothes, and even a chemical toilet. Why the fuck I nicked that I will never know, but, someone will no doubt find a use for it, so I think I'll fuck it through someones window later.

So, here I sit, alone at my lappy laptop, typing away my thoughty thoughts, and reading the many emee emails from my many fans, requesting letters and pictures of my turd producing skills, but alas, they now have to wait for the release of my book 'Abandoned to a life of shit', due for publication next may.

Well, I'm off out to get a new supply of cider, and to visit that old cunt with the dead dog . It's time I chinned the cunt again.

Released into the wild

Well, they released (booted) me from hospital this morning. It seems they could no longer stand the smell, or my expertise in the game of basket ball. I made my way back to my squat in the woods so I could ponder the next chapter of my book "Lifes Shit", and get it down on my laptop.

I was in for a bit of a shock, coz there was a bird waiting for me! She said her name was Anal Peters, and she was blown away by my pics in 'Scat Monthly'. She said she was desperate to see me in action, so I obliged and dropped my trousers and got into character, so to speak.

Just after I'd delivered my third log, there was a noise behind me, and another bird walks up to me! This one was called Eva Deepfries, and she was another fan of the wobbling man!

Well' the first bird didn't take kindly to this, and started shouting 'He's mine you
American cunt!', and went for her. I dived out of the way, and had just started to pull up my pants, when they started picking up my shit, and lobbing it at each other, like a pair of fucking monkeys in the bastard Zoo!

They were soon both covered in shit and rolling on the ground, but the English bird seemed to be winning the fight. No surprise really, the other cunt was just a fucking yank. Nice tits though.

I left the stupid cunts to it, and went off with the yanks handbag. I found enough in it to get a supply of cider (my eyes were famished of cider), and two portions of cod and chips.

A short while later, I was well fed and watered, and sat down for a better look through her bag. There wasn't much, just a bible and her passport. I struggled to decide which one to wipe my arse on, so in the end I settled for both.

A really fucking weird thing happened then. I was walking down the road, and I heard some cunt shouting that he wanted to die. It was some twat in a wheelchair pouring petrol over himself. The trouble was that like most spakkas, he didn't think ahead, and didn't have any matches, so I gave him mine.

The cunt went up like a fucking bonfire, and he was screaming his fucking head off, and people started to come out of their houses, so I thought I should fuck off. I was already bored with his screaming anyway. still, one less window licker in the world.

Coming out of the coma.

It's been a strange week.

I remember drinking a large bottle of cider, and a bottle of scotch, and feeling a bit rough.
I decided it wouldn't be safe to walk back to the woods in my condition, so I nicked a car instead.
I don't know what the fucks up with car drivers today, they were all over the fucking road, and making it hard for me to get where I was going, so I drove on the path for a bit.
The last thing I remember was going back onto the road, and this big cunt of a truck was heading for me.....

Anyway, I came to in hospital, feeling like fucking hell, and covered in bandages, and true to form, I'd shit myself. Great fucking start to the day.
Then I heard some voices, and some cunt (probably a nurse) said they were going to take my bandages off.
There was a constant crying and wailing in the background, and it sounded like some American cunt, howling "my baby, my baby", And I remember wishing someone would chin the cunt. I hate Americans at the best of times, and believe me, this wasn't any where near the best!

Well, off come the bandages, and this stupid cunt screams "That's not my daughter!", and falls to her knees praying, while her old man sat there with a laptop updating his fucking blog!

I don't understand these cunts.

Where the fuck to start.

The moving rectum shites, and having shit, moves on.

Well, that's what I've got down for my book so far. Sounds pretty fucking poetic to me!

Met up with the cunt from Scat Monthly and did the fucking interview. He asked me a load of cuntish questions, and asked if he could take a few pics of me shitting for cash. Well, I do it for free all the time, so it was nice to make a few bob. He wanted to go to the old cunts house, the one who's dog I 'tamed' the other week, so I could shit on her doorstep. well I went one better. I knocked on her door, and when the cunt opened it, I started shitting on the step, and the guy started snapping away.

He liked my ideas for reaction shots, so next, it was a trip to the park where I shit in the sandpit infront of a couple of moms with baby buggies, by god did they fucking scream, but they weren't like the old cunt, these slags went for me, and I had to defend myself with the newly produced turd. That got rid of the cunts.

I couldn't shit anymore after that, so the cunt asked me a few more questions and told me he had sorted an agent for me, and he'd be in touch, then he fucked off, leaving me 150 quid better off, cunting great!

Got a 3 litre bottle of good old W.L. and drank it in about 20 minutes, then I must have passed out. Next thing I knew, I came round to the sound of wings flapping, and I was sure it was that angels had come for me, to carry me aloft and take me from my sorry plight, but it turned out to just be a bunch of fucking pigeons some cunt was keeping in the garden next to where I was at rest.
I hate fucking pigeons, so I climbed over the fence, and got in and strangled as many of the cunts that I could. I stuck one in each pocket of my coat, so I could cook the fuckers later.

I stink so fucking bad that I'm going to hospital later to use the showers. I'm sure no cunt will notice me.

Sad to go.

Today was the day for me to leave the happy dwelling, before the owners came back and, via the Police, got me a new, more confined dwelling. So it was with a heavy heart, and the remaining bottle of Scotch, that I left my happy home to return to the woods.

Last night I gorged myself as much as I could on the food that was left, and drank the last three bottles of wine. I smashed the place up pretty good ( made a right fucking mess of the new LDC TV) and pissed all over the settee. Back on the PC, I used their scanner to scan a couple of photo's of the lady of the house, and stuck them on a few web sites.You know, the kind where you advertise that you will pay to take it up the arse, or you really want someone to come round and beat fuck out of you. I did of course include the address and home and mobile numbers!

I noticed I had been sent a few Emails, and one of them said that they were going to name their unborn child after me, Anya Shittyarse Jones! It fair brought a tear to my eye, and vomit to my throat. There were also plenty of arse licking messagers from a load of sad cunts saying things like, 'Oh you inspire me so much, I can't wait for your book, and I hope we can meet one day' They had better pray we fucking don't! It just goes to prove that the world is full of cunts.

Before going to bed (passing out) last night, I put 6 spoons of Andrews into a half pint of water and downed it in one. I was preparing myself for this morning. As soon as I woke up, I could feel my belly churning, and I knew I didn't have much time. I ran to the front door, dropped my trousers, and squirted liquid shit all over the bottom of the door and the surrounding carpet. I wish I could see their faces when they push the door open on their return!

With that last job done, I wiped my arse across the wall, and went upstairs to change my underpants, coz the ones I had on were making even me feel fucking sick!
I didn't take any of the skinny cunts clothes coz they were too fucking small.

When I saw a taxi coming down the road I knew it was time to fuck off. I left by the back door, and scooted over the fence and down the entry.
I hung around about eight houses away and waited. It was fucking worth it, coz as the lady of the house opened the door, she looked paralysed for a few seconds, and then she let out this incredible fucking scream, that was deafening from even where I was!. Fucking result!

Now I'm back in the library, getting the usual fucking stares. Time I left.

Ok, off to Sommerfield for me. I'm fucking starving!

The shitty welcome.

Well, I've been preparing for the happy holiday makers homecoming.
I've hidden a few wet turds around the place, behind the fridge, behind the washing machine, in the washing machine, underneath their bed, under each pillow, two in the loft, and one squashed under the PC keyboard.
I also wrote 'God is a Cunt' in shit on the living room wall. A nice touch I think, and one that they can probably relate to, coz when they see the state of this place, they'll think he's a cunt too.

One time when I was on their computer last week, I took out a subscription to a magazine called Scat Monthly. It's all about folk who shit for pleasure, and it looked like it might be right up my street.
They asked online for articles for next months magazine, and I sent them a link to my blog. Well, they only want to interview me! They said they would sort me out with an agent, (they do this for all homeless cunts it seems), and see if they can't turn my story into a book, and maybe a screen play! Fucking great!

Anyway, the first copy arrived today. By Christ there are some dirty cunts in the world, pics of them shitting in each others mouths, and awful fucking stuff like that! I don't want it. I think I'll just leave it in the kids room.

Anyway, I'm off to shit in a couple of saucepans.