“Oh my God Oh My God”; Diana Dross, Princess of Whores, made the front of the daily rags today. Again. Apparently Lady Die said something like this while shaking the hand of St Paul, smashed to bits in the back of her pussy-wagon, in a tunnel, in Paris. The end.

Today we are suffering from a NO NEWS day. Well, here’s some news: This isn’t news. Now pass me the paper again, I’m not done wiping my arse yet.

It normally takes me until page 13 depending upon the state of fecal affairs. Back in the day, the “Page 7 Fella” was torn out and disposed prior to becoming toilet-text as, I felt funny rubbing a semi naked man on my chocolate-starfish. The SuperGoals Pullout is only ever needed if my greasy-tea towel-holder has become soiled by digested “foreign muck” and Stella.

Even if the People’s Princess took a People’s Elbow to her hooked nose, her muttering would probably have been, “Oh my God Oh My God”. Unnecessary quotation marks aside, a former Princess, unlike proletariat like “you and me”, would rather blaspheme than use the word “cunt”.

Better still, these words, given to the official inquest, were heard by a man who does not speak English and used “another onlooker” to translate.

For those of you in the same situation and you’re trying to hear what a foreign accident victim is trying to say through their smashed skull with a toothless mouth filling up with gut-juice and blood. If you ever wonder what the words of the dying might be, but can’t make it out because all you hear is the gurgling of blood through a punctured face, please use my following easy-to-follow guide to undignified-pre-mortum-one-way-unconscious-mutterings…

“No diga a momia. Es poco secreto del papá para siempre. Usted prometió.”
– Don’t tell Mummy. It’s Daddy’s little secret for ever. You promised.

“Chaka Khan. Chaka Khan. Laat me u schommelen Chaka Khan.”
– Chaka Khan. Chaka Khan. Let me rock you Chaka Khan.

“Ήξερα ότι η σκύλα δεν θα μπορούσε να μαγειρεψει.”
– I knew that bitch couldn’t cook.

“Luke, eravate di destra. Eravate di destra.”
– Luke, you were right. You were right.

Excuse me while I mop up the vomit from my lap.


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