Fixquack Hates Cunts

I hate the world and all the muelling little cunts that sail in it.

Why, only last night in a musichall on old sydney street,  i was enjoying the entertaining and sharp reparte of a cabaret star who liberally spinkled the word Cunt about among her adoring fans so that we would become educated as to its true meaning & poetic status. she had us all singing along, “Cunt! Cunt! Cunt!”, fantastic stuff! it just never comes out that stylishly when i start using naughty words on-stage, i simply let off steam and only some of my audience has stayed behind. still, best to sort the wheat from the chav early-on, i say.

anyway. as i made to go to the bar with but half a glass of light ale left in my hand, i had the misfortune to stumble over a pair of size ten boots that had been carelessly left in the thoroughfare by some snivvelling sub-goth wannabe. as i straightened out to gracefully receive its apology for its lack of spacial awareness, my grinning mug was met by an achingly cool sneer of disdane from, as it turned out, a sub-post-neo-goth-a-like teenage girl. well, fuck her and the heroin induced infants she will spit out. “Cunt!” i shouted, and began to laugh uncontrollably as i poured what remained of my light ale (it was piss anyway) down her cheap, black, frilly fronted frock.

i was peomptly bungled out of the establishment and thrown onto the street, shit-arsed drunk.

…no sense of humour, these cunts have…