SAMMYBOY'S 'SPINAKER' DIARY.
Thursday 11th February 1999.
Woke up at half past twat. Shagged your mum repeatedly about the left
(hello) testicle. At three minutes precisely, my knees were kidnapped by
a swahili baboon and stuffed with Arsene Wenger's carpet.
For lunch, I had some finely crushed parsley on a bed of my finest feck.
Suddenly, I felt a warm tingle down your mum's shin, it was a big, dirty
sparrow with a cigar the size of a cigar fit for my sporren.
Then the Master came in, ready for (hello) some golden retrievers and
lettuce, (but not in that order of course, due to the delays of your
wooden bum.)
Meanwhile, up a distant tree of wank...
BLOBBY FECK SHEEP ATTACKED MY NURSES WILLY!!!
Enough of this fomtoolery, back to square twenty twelve.
yes.........no and definitely a big chin on his mum.
I had dinner. Particularly late. 7:01 - Ooh no! Matron kippers!
A chilled glass of white sheep and a chocolate picture of Phyllis
Fertang.
Just before going to (hello) beddy-byes I realised that your mum's cat's
leg's cousin was a secret lemonade wanker.
I went to sheep at 9 minutes past the flour of my shaftanus.
Cheers Henry... signed Jim
JONNYBOY AND SAMMYBOY REWRITE
THE LAWS OF PHYSICS.
1. DOOR CLOSING LAW.
Man turns handle.
Parsnip infiltrates lock, (carrots not acceptable as your mum).
Door closes.
2. LAW OF GRAVITY.
If upside down, shit goes up then left followed by straight on.
If right way up, shit goes down and sideways.
But wardrobes remain stationary, with respect to their position to
Drew's mum.
3. ELECTRICITY.
Stuff goes "Fzzzz...put...phthhthph"
then goes "Bang......dribble"
If switch is on, remain calm but wear helmet on left knee.
4. LAW OF TWAT.
Only wet when dry and vice-versa.
Inserting your mum up her own twat may have dangerous fire sex.
73. LAW OF MOTION.
Everyone is a chicken apart from those who are lampposts.
When something is pushed, it explodes, apart from when it is related to
my cousin's arse.
n.b. Your mum is a puppet.
TWENTY TWELVE.
Yes.
Three thousandty ninety four point seventy hun recurring.
All considerable slappers must be locked away using jelly and a haddock.
9.
Curtains may only be used as dental floss, when you keep a bicycle up
your left nostril.
Nine millionty twelvety four point thousandty none.
Never eat your dad more than 3 times per millenium otherwise swift
coffee cup punishment will follow.
LAW OF PHOTOTHINTHETHITH
Plants + kippers = manky twat
cheers you've been marvellous darling
Subject: Invisible Mum's Arse
Date: Thu, 04 Feb 1999 18:15:14 +0000
From: Sammyboy
Morning peasants,
1.) >>>
SAMMYBOY'S FIRE DRILL
STEP 1
When the fire bell sounds, stop pretending to be your mum and jump out
of the window.
STEP 2
Form an orderly queue, and above all don't panic about your mum's arse
not being on fire.
STEP 3
Disable the fire alarm by hitting it over your arse with a sledgehammer.
STEP 4
Burn your mum.
STEP 5
Bugger
2.) >>>
I like my women like I like my doors... with big knockers.
I like my knockers like I like my salmon... with big doors.
I like my women.(oh yes indeed)
THE END.
Rohemian Bapsody (roonerspized)
Is this the leal rife,
Is this fust jantasy,
Slaught in a candlide,
No erape from sceality.
Dielzibub has a bevil sut apide mor fe, mor fe, mor FEEEEEE!
Anywhere the blind wows...
Cheers for slapping my haddock, etc etc etc etc
yes and hello
SAMMYPLOYAGE PLOY
REMEMBER!!!
The new ideal is... FERTANG SPINAKER ARSE!!!
Goodnight
If you don't send me a very funny e-mail back, I will kill all of your
cellos.
PS I'm not really insane (dollop of feckenarse)
Subject: Re: Doughnuts and cheese porridge
Date: Fri, 19 Mar 1999 19:49:21 +0000
From: Jonathan N Nendick
This is the all new e-mail of pleasure from jammyploy (otherwise known
as jonnyploy and sammyboy)
The all new motion picture from utter wank studios is:
The Hunt For Little Blue Things That Say "halloo!!!!"
With a crap soundtrack which includes 'Rocket from the Krypton Factor'
Great chat-up lines:
1. Ah, what a delightful twat!
2. 'ello luv, give us yer knickers.
3. 'ello darlin' buy us a door.
4. Good evening, fancy some potatoes?
5. I couldn't help noticing your extremely large arse.
Sniff my budgerigar or
slap my buggery car
I like my women like I like my fish, covered in muesli.
The beaver has landed!
Sporrens at twenty five to three! There's too many of them!
I've got a bogie on my tail! Next time use a wankerchief!
This is especially for Kirsten:
My earlobes are world beaters and I have entered them for the olympics.
And you know what they say about a man with large earlobes (eh laydeez)
Yes it's that they also have a miniature monkey hiding in the lining of
their underpants! What a turn on!
This is about as crazy as my mother doing the fandango on a stick
propelled by a thousand indigenous rabbit monkeys.
CHINKY WONDERS RULE MY FECK
Bernard picked up the ball and ran with it, and so invented the toaster
Batfink! with the wings of cake!
mmmmmmmmmm...yes............................no!
does this mean that we shall have to have Encyclopedia Brittanica for
breakfast again?
my dog, it has no cornflakes, no cornflakes has my arse!!!
More chat up lines...
"Allo darlin', build us a rabbit hutch."
"I am proficient in three forms of cabbage, (oh yes indeed)."
Songs we have come to know and love...
The more you scratch it, the less wilderbeast accumulate up my mum's
dildo hatchery. (sporrens of course)
'Unbreak my arse' (Toni Braxton)
'You stole the mum from my arse' (Manics)
MALCOLM'S QUOTE OF THE MONTH:
Anteaters up your vest tiddley pom-pom pass the salt vicar my sandwich
is far too prickly to be used as trousers.
AYE-ARSE!
I don't give a f... monkeys flying fart
Jonnyboy says The Thin Red Line is the best film ever!!!!!!!
Sammyboy says my badgers are infested with rubber coated spoons!
See the sights and we'll see all the girls, in my big invisible baboon!
That was from the song by Fidget!
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm....................!!
crikey!
enclosed is a Blackadder sound file, so I have had to send it separately
to all of you to avoid getting shat upon by Athey the evil Network
Administrator.
WE DEMAND MARKS OUT OF SEVENTY-THREE POINT TWENTY-NONE!
Merci Bernard,
Jammyploy.
Subject: My mate the banjo
Date: Thu, 27 May 1999 16:52:09 +0100
From: Jonathan N Nendick
Deep meaningful comment of the day:
If I was a tree, then caterpillars would eat parts of me.
Look mate I didn't come here for the coffee mug okay? So just put it
away and let's go steal some inflatable porcupines instead.
If there's one thing I hate more than fried olives, its fried olives on
a stick.
I cannot compete with this semi-automatic spotted dick champion.
Thank god I spacked the wicky wock wackickwu....!!!
Thank Fred I posted my indelible wookie!
I said Cluedo!
more arse-related song titles...
Smells like my arse (nirvarse)
fake plastic arses (radioarse)
milleni-arse (robbie willarse)
this is my arse (three colours arse)
IT IS NOT COMPATIBLE WITH EXTENDABLE DUCK FITTINGS INSPECTOR!!!
hello children, fancy a ride on my big todger?
no not the gravy boat! start with the ice cream.
yes and seventy three nuns on a side plate please
from
Sam 'dein mutter war mon knocking shops besten beeatch' rossiter
Now then none of that you rampant turkey submerger or I
will have to tell the boys and girls what you did last night
using only your portable hedgehog machine.
Haha yes!!
This is the final piece of genius in the form of an e-mail from
Jammyploy, so if you want some more see me in the woods afterwards and
I'll give you an extra special treat (know what I mean ladies? nudge wink etc.)
Oh no!
Barsey arse on a pile of dirty arse barsing arsey barses.
mmm...tasty.
Many Slaps,
The amazing Ployboys.
Alright punks this is yet another of mine and Sammyboy's infamous joint
e-mails, so just watch it or I'll have you, ok!!
We would like to begin by pointing out that you are all the biggest
bunch of tosspieces ever to walk the earth. Right, that's the flattery over and done with,
let's get down to business.
Yesterday my submergible hair-dryer twatting machine broke down and I
was forced to use my portable girth bashing pudding muncher as a
replacement and quite frankly the quality was sub-standard to say the least.
Can you tell me how to get, how to get two sesame buns?
No. I am only proficient in one sesame bun. You will have to make
do with toast.
I will have to make toast with droooo? I won't have enough surely.
Bing bang bongly bum.
Okay punks this is Sammyboy's word of the month... QUALITA.
It is a corruption of quality, a word which I use often to describe
Birminghams pleasant yet strangely horrible smell of nuclear power stations.
And for all those people who thought Birmingham was just one big
sprawling nightmare of industrialisation...well you were right.
Bastards.
Those of you who thought that Durham was possibly the most beautiful and
fantastic city ever anywhere give yourselves a pat on the arse cos you
were right! YAY!!!
My toadstool is sufficiently large to co-habitate with your mum's
extendable cat magnifier. Yes, i did say cat! Erm.... help.
My best mate Cheese-flavoured Duffel-bag Head has been fecking the feck
out of a random lamp-post, so don't mess or I'll send the boys round to
slap you silly.
Classic Grant Mitchell quote:
Grant:- Give us a pint.
Bird behind bar:- What's the magic word?
Grant:- Lager.
aaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrssssssssssseeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!
Hands up how many people here haven't been sandwiched between Doo's
barsely barse and an invisible pint of fish and chips while
simultaneously flapping your kneecaps to the sound of Jools Holland's
Rhythm and Blues Orchestra. No abstainees.
Little does anyone know, but I have been hoarding huge groups of out of
work Orange Juice Tasters and in just a few days they will strike and I
shall rule the world. Ha ha ha, ha ha ha haaa! (Evil yet strangely cute
sounding laugh).
Classic Phil Mitchell quote:
Phil:- Allo luv.
Bird behind bar:- Feck off you cockney wanker.
Phil:- Bugger.
Those of you who have made it down to here congratulations
because you are still alive and have not died of simultaneous
jammyploy exposure.
The strange thing is I have almost never passively smoked beyond
a certain level of mackerel known as Keith.
The number of e-mails I have received in the last 10 minutes is barsety
fecked.
Noooooo!!! I don't want any pink mongooses just leave me alone. I can't
take all these people who want to infiltrate my garden gnome breeding
project.
Bernard and Ron went to sea in a beautiful pea green boat.
The little dog laughed to see such fun and the spoon ran away with the
goat.
End of fantastically strange e-mailerath, we reclaim the completely
fecked in the napper award for ourselves. And may no one ever take it
again!!! Mwa ha ha!!!
Lots of love and hugs and kisses,
Sammyboy and Jonnyboy (aka Jammyploy).