Warning, OUTRAGEOUS is a series of filth, swearing, insanity and gross images. The easily offended (and not so easily) and anyone under about 35 should stop reading right now!
It’s absolutely staggering how they make aeroplanes fly. Hundreds of tons of metal, rubber and plastic and somehow they get these huge, wonderful machines up into the sky and keep them there for hours and hours and hours. Amazing!
It’s even more amazing when one crashes, killing all the queer cabin staff and eight dozen screaming passengers. I bet the pilot doesn’t get a reference after that.
Of course a life jacket under the seat is a waste of fucking time! Don’t talk black boxes!
Would you like to go fifty-fifty, phone a friend or ask the audience?
Why go through all that palaver when you could just tell me the answer, you miserable, secretive bastard.
It’s not your bloody money, is it…
I was playing blackjack with a friend of mine the other day, when we had a small misunderstanding over his use of the term “hit me”.
An easy enough mistake to make, I suppose, and he wasn’t to know I had a four pound club hammer concealed under the table.
You should have seen the dent.
He won’t be getting twenty-one any time soon. Or reaching twenty-one, I should say. Only twenty and brain juice all over the card table. Shame. Should have chosen his words more carefully.
Humpty dumpty sat on the wall.
Humpty dumpty had a great fall.
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men, couldn’t put Humpty together again – mainly because they’d ridden their horses over him several times, trampling his broken shell-like body into the mud to make sure he was properly dead.
And they were laughing.
I wish I had a fluffy little bunny with huge blue eyes and floppy ears. Then I could shove him in mum’s freezer and keep him perfectly preserved for a year before re-animating his frosty little corpse by jamming some live electric wires up his arse.
I’m bound to win the Nobel prize for this one.
Whenever an aeroplane full of excited holiday makers flies over my house, I get this horrible feeling that it’s about to explode in mid-air and crash. Then I cross my fingers and pray that the mangled scorched wreckage and it’s cargo of burning passengers doesn’t smash right through my living room window.
Just finished decorating, see.
Twelve pounds fifty a roll that bloody wallpaper cost me.
They say that crime doesn’t pay, but when a couple of tooled-up underworld thugs hijack a security van, shoot dead the weeping driver and his quivering guard and then make off with two dozen bags stuffed full of loot and are never seen again, that’s not a bad day’s work, is it?
Course it fucking isn’t! Don’t talk shit!
Think I’m in the wrong job.
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley sage rosemary and thyme…
Night vision goggles
My favourite soaps on television are Emmerdale, Eastenders, Hollyoaks (later) and Babe Station.
The last two for similar reasons. Know what I mean boys? 🙂