Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Hey, Phil.
“Sup.”
Lemme ask you a question.
“Shoot.”
Ever put your dick in a dead pig?
…
“How many of those–”
All of them.
“–words are used literally? Then, no.”
Never?
“Think I’d remember.”
Just checking.
“It was nice of you to care, though; I appreciate the thought.”
Really?
“Fuck, no. Don’t ask me any more questions about my dick.”
Okay.
Hey, Robert Plant from Led Zeppelin.
“I’m actually with the Infamous Something-Or-Others now.”
Sure. Ask you a question?
“Have at it, lad.”
What’s with your boy?
“More specific, please.”
The pigfucker.
“Ah. It does seem Mr. Cameron’s had the same relationship with his constituents for quite some time, doesn’t it?”
Wow, you English guys insult each other good.
“Oh, I don’t know: there’s a certain primitive poetry to simply calling him a ‘pigfucker,’ as well.”
Thanks. So?
“Apparently, David Cameron–who now possesses the codes that launch nuclear weapons–laid his tallywhacker in a porker’s gob.”
What?
“Todger in what was soon-to-be bacon butty.”
I can’t make heads or tails of this.
“Dick in a pig’s mouth, you filthy colonial.”
Oh. Was there thrusting?
“Would that make it better or worse?”
…
Good point, Robert Plant.
“Thank you, thank you.”
One last question.
“Yes?”
Did anyone ever remember that laughter?
“We’re done here.”
Figured.
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