Bastard

Do everything for me, please, I'm so fucking lazy and damn important I can't be arsed.

It currently sits there, disagreeing with everybody, lying and contradicting people, even calling people liars. It sits issuing empty orders which are ignored by all, never lifting a finger to solve it's own problems, it wants everything doing for it, it wont contribute, it won't think... in fact, it can't think, it's stupid, retarded, childish and emotionally void - except for rage and anger and unless it gets what it wants, everyone will receive it's wrath.

It is in fact, impossible to be any lazier.

Disrespectful, bigoted, psychopathic, arrogant, ignorant, impatient, self-obsessed, gibbering bell-end. Make it die big Mo'. Strike it down for it IS sin.

The fat, idle, spoilt, lazy twat. May it's devilish parents burn in hell for birthing such a monster.

DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE!!!!!!

Excuses, Excuses.

"You sound like a man who didn't get much sleep last night." What? I've not even said anything yet, what the fuck does that even mean?

It's disruptive behaviour continues with a new unfounded vitriol this morning as it finds yet another excuse to talk. But here's the snag; it never says anything useful, worthwhile, interesting, work-related or even amusing; it just talks and talks, moans and complains, constant innate bollocks like a broken fucking machine.

It doesn't listen, it doesn't stop, it never stops to think, breathe, ponder, it's endless, everlasting, non-stop monotony. Solution: it's got to go, get sacked, die, disappear, anywhere, anything... just fuck off away from me you fat cunt!

I think Kyle Reese, or Michael Biehn, hit the nail on the head in 1984's The Terminator:

"It can't be bargained with. It can't be reasoned with. It doesn't feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And it absolutely will not stop, ever, until you are dead".

Never was a movie quote so well suited to real life. The question is: If I tried to crush Jelly with a giant pneumatic press, as Sarah Conner did to The Terminator, would Jelly split or would the press explode?

Eyeless Jelly

Please make it stop!
This morning Jelly has decided to talk AT me all morning further confirming it's disruptive, destructive nature. Although completely aware of my ignoring it, it continues undeterred rattling on incoherently in search of some attention, a reaction or more likely; an argument. Well, I'm not playing ball CUNT!

I think this might be the greatest 'concentration test' I've ever had. To ignore it's endless gurgling and rambling from only 3 feet way and continue to work, unaffected, fully focused is tough. There's been many times I've felt the urge to tell it to 'shut up, fuck off and die' but I've managed to keep my cool so far.

Maybe this is a turning point for my rage, maybe I'm becoming a 'nice' person… in honesty it seems unlikely. I still wanna rip it's guts out and shove 'em up my arse then shit them back in it's face.

Below are just a few of it's most ridiculous emissions so far; relating to someone it saw on it's journey into work:

… she was just utterly stupid...
... I was sick of looking at this bovine creature…
… with people like her, there is an excuse for euthanasia…
… some people are so rude and utterly stupid…

The moaning cheeky cunt. The fact that it has the guile to speak about other peoples appearances is outrageous in itself and I assure you; if anybody resembled anything even like the seething mass of frothing sugary anger that is the Jelly; they'd have seen themselves off a long time ago.

Arsenut

Will you stop banging the fucking table you fat fucking oaf!

Now please, fuck off and die you miserable twat! Please... just die, you fucking cunt! Infact, drop dead NOW and suffer in a pool of your own toxic vomit; you cunting hell-child fuck face!

You're a fucking horror of a person, a fucking horror, a nightmare, a foul stinking sweating bastard arse rag twatty bollocks!

DIE!

Misquoted

After taking over a job from Jelly and reading the client's email that was sent to 'it', I spotted a possible conflict regarding a quote, given by Jelly, within the email's content. I decided to call the client to clarify the job and make sure I got it right.

The phone call went swimmingly, she was polite, friendly and clear about what she wanted me to do for her, which unfortunately didn't tally with the quote she was given. In fact, the quote Jelly had given her was 9 times LESS than what she should be have been quoted. Confused and dismayed at the new and correct quote I gave her, she referred to her line managed and opted to call me back. I apologised yet again on behalf of Jelly (to his gross dissatisfaction) for the confusion and the misquote and said goodbye. No sooner had I put the phone down when Jelly barked;

"Who was that?"

I calmly replied

"I thought I'd call ********* to clarify what it is she wants us to do, some details in the email seem to conflict and I think she's been misquoted"

I saw a rage creep across it's hideous face like an evil tidal wave of custard

"The *expletive* liar, the *expletive* liar! She asked for 'blah blah blah' and I gave her the price. I'm *expletive* sick of these lying *expletive*!"

Jelly then stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind it. It returned red faced ready for another bout of moaning. Scratching my head, I thought to try to diffuse the situation as I can no longer cope with Jelly's endless moaning and 'spoilt child-like' behaviour, so I quipped in hope:

"Well, everybody makes mistakes sometimes"

I said this in an effort to dismiss any blame from either party, hopefully shutting the bastard up even though I knew he'd dropped a bollock. This unfortunately backfired as Jelly's venomous retort proved:

"Not me! I don't make mistakes! The *expletive* moron asked me for a *expletive* price for *expletive*…"

It's at this point I switched off as my ears were ringing. How is this Jelly still employed? Your guess is as good as mine.

Michael Cera

By far the most punchable bastard in the world. Look at those dead rodent-like eyes... what a cunt.

Bruce Springsteen

I've tried very hard. I tried very hard to like him, I've listened to his so-called best and worse albums, the one's that supposedly mattered and the infamous pop shite... I've even tried to look at it from an American point of view to try to appreciate his influence and his earnestness and I just can't do it. I cannot relate to an over confident, overly American, over-rated and overly liberal 'song and dance man' from New Jersey.

To me he's an over-glorified 'Meatloaf' with dead eyes and a vacuous entity where a sense of humour should be. At least 'Meat' makes you laugh, intentionally or not, with his talent for theatrics and opera. Moose SpringGreens wouldn't know a good time if it sat on his balls and smashed it's jugs in his chops, the miserable cocking fuckbag.

The two strangest and most unusual aspects to 'The Boss' and his apparent popularity are one: why do so many sheep-like pin heads worship him, and two: Why does he sing in a false southern accent despite being born in New Jersey? Oh sorry, I criticised him by accident then.

But I suppose the most disturbing aspect to the whole Brucie 'blue-collar' Bowel Steam epedemic is the blind rage and complete intolerance his 'minions' exuberantly gush with when he's criticised (am I okay to say this?). My anger should probably be aimed at them bastards rather than 'The Boss' as my rantings on the article called 'It Started Off Well' would suggest they are one in the same. Either way, Bruce 'Cock-Trollop' Windolene has now slipped out of my favourite 'Top One Billion' music artists of all time and as a result should die.

Just look at that picture, what a cunt.