Arsène’s huge down under
G’day all you whingeing Poms from the land Down Under, a paradise of amber nectar, aerial ping-pong and white pointers!!
Just stumbled upon your site as I was googlin’ Arse, now don’t get yer knickers in a knot, it is strictly research for my own gratification like and I red on a bit.
Just got back in from the pub with a gut-load of piss, been flat out like a lizard, drinking. Minding my own business watching Kylie the barmaid doling out the four X, great arse Kylie, when she walks looks like two dwarfs fighting in a sack.
Bloody oath I bumped into to some tiny blow-in dill , bit of a raw prawn if you ask me looked like a good root and a fart would kill him. Strange looking mongrel, all pale with a head on him like a sucked mango. Strangest thing, he had a picture of a cock on his shirt.
Well blow me I thought, I’ll be buggered if I turn me back on this wombat. Looked as trustworthy as a Pakistani cricketer in bookies if you ask me.
Could tell for sure he was as cunning as a twitchy shit house rat and not enough brains to give him-self a headache. He was as miserable as a bastard on Father’s Day. But just to be hospitable like I lent him an ear while I tucked into me Heart Starter..
Strewth that fella could talk, even for a two pot screamer, I swear he never stopped yakking even when I strode off to the dunny to siphon the python.
Started bitching like a love sick sheep on a drovers holiday about some fella up in Pomgolia who manages the Arse who is dead set doin real well for himself and his work mates.
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Last time I met a bloke like him, was when I was burgled, took nothing of value but emptied the rubbish bin and me dog got pregnant.
Anyways, I was just finishing me 12th schooner when he’s calling you Arse’s ‘about as useful as tits on a bull’ and how his ‘Harry has you by the short and curlies’ and it’s as obvious as a shag on a rock, youse blokes will end up ‘skint in the old trophy department’.
No worries mate I said, I go and have a Captain Cook at this as the chance of him shouting a round looked as scarce as rocking horse shit.
So I threw a couple dozen tinnies in the old Holden Ute, for medicinal purposes only and shot through back to the farm.
Made it home in double quick time with a bit of the old lead foot and boy was I stoked, thought the missus had left me there for a minute.
But after a moment or two I remembered the old ambo driver had taken the Sheila to the hossie.
Recovering from a fair dinkum sex session where she was left walking bandy legged you ask…..?
Na silly cow burned herself on the Barbie, roasting a few snags and shrimps for me tea, so I reckon its starvation rations ‘til brekkie when she gets out. I am so hungry I could bloody well eat the horse and chase the rider.
So here I am sat in me budgie smugglers as popular with the wife as a brown eyed mullet in the backyard pool checking you blokes out.
Well after considerable effort, reading ‘til I thought I would chuck, I reckon the bloke was so full of shit his eyes were brown. All that yak about you blokes being lower than a centipede’s scrotum was just a snow job.
The guts of it as I see it, is this.
You got a couple quid in the bank.
The Manager is spot on.
The competition is stuffed.
Get your slackers to go walk about.
Team is looking spunky.
Stop sooking like a sheep-shagged Skippy in a pink singlet and go and win.
I’m off down the TAB and put a couple a bucks on it.
Don’t let the bastards drag you down, I’ll check in again to see how youse get on.
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