Love According to Scary Duck (That's MR. Scary Duck to You!)
For someone who doesn't run out of things to say (an ex once told me that I talk too much), it is with much difficulty that I am admitting that as of this writing, I am officially suffering from a malignancy called, "Writers' Block". So now I shamelessly resort to what people with nothing to blog about resort to, post somebody else's work. So here's LOVE according to one of my favorite bloggers, Scary Duck (Mind you, he's not scary and he's not a duck):
- particularly difficult without genitals...
- kidding yourself that you haven't been caught eyeing up her mother...
- frankly impossible in the office stock cupboard. People always need staples at the most inconvenient of moments...
- a chemical reaction involving the increased release of testosterone and estrogen resulting in an emotional attachment to a person, object, piece of liver in a sock or inflatable woman...
- saving Flossie from the knacker's yard, if only for old time's sake...
- illogical, Captain, more to the left please...
- filming her every move with a number of hidden cameras, following her to the shops and beating to a pulp any man who so much as looks at her, because nobody understands her the way I do...
- ultimately more expensive than picking up slatterns on the Oxford Road, but without the genital herpes roulette...
- asking what her sister looks like naked...
- refusing to press charges, even though you are still walking with a limp...
- writing her adoring letters featuring the words "cum-dripping browneye" and "I've paid a mate to hold the camera"...
- respecting her enough not to draw attention to the piece of toilet paper stuck to her bum-hole whilst doing it doggy style...
Help me out here. In the words of poor, dead Howard Jones: "What is love?"
Confession: One of the above is true.
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