OI PEOPLE!

 It is imperative you read this.

I AM IN PAIN!  PITTY ME DAMMIT!

I've just awoken from my lair to realise I am not a fearless dragon or some invincible large beast of prey, rather I am hung over if not still completely intoxicated....
My god I am in pain, you arseholes all did this to me!  Fuck u all!

Why do I drink so much!?  Why!?  What does it gain me!?   Holding onto the floor is not a productive way to woo attractive women to the endless charm that is "Handsome Pudding"!  And late night visits to the vomiting-shrub doesn't award you any credibility with the opposite sex!  Yet time and time again I find myself, face down, arse up, literally spilling my guts across someone's shiny new Blue Mazda 3 (sorry Paul).  Furthermore, the moment a fine young specimen of the female of my species comes within so much as 20 metres of where-ever I may be, I break out into an exotic (and sometimes erotic) song and dance about the failing Brisbane lions, or the manner in which to gain the most from one's own sexual activities.  Needless to say these fine young specimens develop into abusive Martial Arts masters and I am generally given the beating of a lifetime before they leave me with my head in a bush bleeding from every orifice I possess.  So again I ask... Why Do I drink so much!?

And WHY must I insist on getting drunk and disorderly after recently having a sharp pointy object thrust through my left boob!?  The amount of times I’ve been bashed, whacked, poked, prodded, slapped, flicked, twisted and bitten on my left nipple just HAPPENS to sky rocket the night after I subject my body to a lifetime's worth of torture compressed into 2 minutes worth of quiet chitchat and a quick STAB!!

What’s that I hear, "Childbirth is more painful you say?"?  BULLSHIT!  Try getting your nipple clamped by a device the size of an Armored Personnel Carrier with the crushing power to scare even Arnold Schwarzenegger into hiding.  Not only that, the foul temptress that is behind the wheel of this monstrosity has the FUCKING audacity to smile and giggle while I writhe in agony under her Machine of Doom!  My feeble attempts to punch, kick, scratch, glare and spit for her many facial piercings did nothing to halt the stream of profanities flowing from my mouth or lessen the inner boiling hatred I had for the outlandish Whore!  How dare she politely tell me her name seconds before she restrained me to the crude rusted bench for a so-called surgical chair?

My problems where furthermore compounded last night upon return to my humble abode, where I decided it would be a splendid idea to gatecrash my mother’s upper-class dinner party …while I was half naked.  I proceeded to proclaim my love of drinking, my hatred for the world and the NOW obvious fact I have a nipple piercing.  After the initial shock and the few unconscious guests were tended to, my family has come to the conclusion that in fact I am not their son, rather I am the spawn of Satan and most probably will bring about the Apocalypse, if not - bring home Osama Bin Laden for dinner and drop the bombshell that myself and the World terrorist leader are engaged and expecting.

Until next time I am overly intoxicated and left to roam free of my ball and chain, have a good day, be happy and don’t hold grudges…. That’s my job!

Lots of Luv,

Your friendly neighbourhood Handsome Pudding.

Part 2:

Just so everyone knows, Jacko is a cadbury and likes to be tag teamed by Nathan Buckley and Eddie McGuire....

hehehehe that will teach u for spitting whilst in my vehicle that also doubles as  Napzman's Street Enforcer. Ur poison spit had reduced the powers of the machines mood lighting, Barry White music and the chilled champagne compartment. No worries i can still rely on my absolute lack of charm.....

Until next we dual Handsome Pudding.........

I'm Napzman

Leader of the League of Sexually Ordinarily Incompetent Superheroes

Part 3: 

Yes thank you Paul, my spitting was technically not IN your car, my head was hanging out the door, and the Napzman's Street Enforcer was already out of commission due to the lack of women Napzman has met recently.  Also I somehow spent $75 in the short space of time we were out, so i did consume a fair amount of alcohol - or that thieving bastard Crabs got the better of me again!  Come to think of it i am fairly itchy today...

Furthermore, for the benefit of good old Fuzzboi (to others he is known as Rob), it WAS before 12 o'clock that i found myself beating back the shrubs for a space to release the content i held within my stomach.  Ahhh, you could run a clock by the timing of my drinking habits -

Start: 6:00 Pm

5th drink: 6:10 Pm

Dancing uncontrollably: 8:43 Pm

Head in the bushes: 9:59 Pm

After the ongoing agony i have suffered over the past 4 weeks, i have only today found the answer to why i subject myself to such pointless yet somewhat amusing binge drinking bouts – its genetics; i get it from my darling mother.

Mid afternoon today, a creature resembling a large swap monster was seen crawling out of my parent’s bedroom.  Normally I would turn my gaze and wait for the monster to return to the bedroom to play part in some sort of violent mating ritual with the other of the species.  However this afternoon I noticed there was no frantic rush to the bathroom to acquire any personal hygiene products, rather a long drawn out groan followed by the familiar wretched 'Dragon breath' stench that accompanies persons of the drinking nature.

It was then I formed my theory that i was in fact not the spawn of Satan as my delightful darling mother had claimed just a mere 10 hours before. I now believe I was the spawn of a creature so horrible in its stench and yet so awe inspiring in its slow uncoordinated afternoon crawl.  A monster so terrifying it can only be seen the day after, the same vile beast that lures ‘beer-goggle’ clad men into bed to ravage the unsuspecting prey in the wee hours of the morning.  ‘But how!?’ you are asking, ‘How did you come to this conclusion Almighty Jacko, oh please do tell us!’

During my convocation with my mother the previous night, in which she was leading a discussion regarding my new ‘attachment’, I had kept my eyes squinted and precisely focused on the far wall of the room, simply to maintain my vertical integrity.  Throughout the interlude I had fail to notice that not only was I almost completely inebriated, the entire congregation of the Upper-class dinner party were also fairly well on their way to meeting the porcelain goddess.  Closer analysis of my memories point out that those guests were not unconscious due to the horrid state of my half naked and recently massacred body, but rather due to the mass amounts of alcohol they had previously consumed.  One vague image stands in my memory of my shower-curtain rushing past me as it chased a bare pair of female breasts.  I thought I had left it hanging in the bathroom from when I previously showered, not let it roam free to fornicate with athletic breast.

In addition, another memory shows a gentleman with his torso hanging out the lounge room window, at the time I thought him to be star-gazing, truth-be-told he was showering the neighbour’s dog with a glossy coat of his own stomach lining.  Furthermore, the fact which now causes me to doubt my mother’s claim that I am not her own, was this morning’s 16 counted empty bottles of wine, champagne and spirits delicately sprawled across the house at random intervals.  ‘Strange...’ I thought at first, ‘I didn’t bring any alcohol home with me...’  Mind you there were only 8 people at this Upper-class dinner party; mathematically speaking - that’s 2 bottles per party member.

So alas, I am not the spawn of Satan people. You may all breathe a sigh of relief.  I am however obviously not of human origin.  Any creature that can assist in the consumption of 16 bottles of various types of alcohol is clearly dangerous, mate this creature with a radioactive goat from outer space and you all have a catastrophic disaster on your hands.  I may not be the spawn of Satan, but I will still bring about the Apocalypse one way or another.

Until we meet again Napzman!

Luv your friendly neightbourhood Handsome Pudding. (Jacko)