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General Fuzzy McBitty

Random Gibberish

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Oh, it's bad luck to be you.

A chosen one of many isn't new

When you think you're full of luck

in the bullock's you'll get struck

Oh, it's bad luck to be you.

Now, Ogan came young from the farm.

And tried to save the princess from all harm.

Equipped with just a stick

And a head makde out of brick.

His rabbit's foot failed as a charm.

Oh, it's bad luck to be you.

The prophecy is never coming true

In a pickle you'll be stuck

Like a chicken you'll cluck

Oh, it's bad luck to be you.

Believing that he was the one

His Ego weighed in at a ton.

His Mum's a crazy bat.

Did we mention that she was fat.

And she'll need a pine box for her son.

Oh, it's bad luck to be you.

Don't think for just a second it's not true

When your life has run amuck

You'll see that you're the schmuck.

Oh, it's bad luck to be

Really bad luck to be

Nobody could disagree.

It's a freaking guarantee.

Oh, it's bad luck to be you.

Diddly doo.

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You crack packet shit bitch mother licking twat cock fuck fucking cunt skag face raped little pice of rancid meat trash rubbing your saggy dripping beef curtains against mr fucking techno swank.

Why don't you just go and fuck him you whore.


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a man was jumping off a cliff

when he caught naught but a whiff

of smoke the size of peanuts

that stung his eyes like papercuts

he started dreaming steadily

and came around quite readily

to realize that after all

there is no life after the fall

so tumbling stumbling rumbling on

it came to him he'd soon be gone

and none the wiser he would be

had he been a bumblebee

so up and off he went away

flying cross landscapes the smell of hay

and dreaming all the time about

what life was really all about

a little sparrow ate him up

and mr jumpers on a cup

had thought quite rightly it's insane

that men has something like the brain

to think of stuff so brown and

dull to think of ships without a

hull to dream of women without

hats and mice who are but wingless

bats but couldn't hit a homerun

ever because mice aren't really all that


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Canned feotus sits

sits upon a swing

swing high to get a look

look at all the tits

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Jackie Chan singing "I'll make a man out of you" in Cantonese rocks :period:


Ah, yes. The famous warcry...

- :) :) :) :) :) :) :)

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you are all just a bunch of phonies! Hey, you phonies! You are all phonies! Making up stuff like that must seem real nice, you phonies! Phonies!

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he shot himself in the foot

a bunch of butterflies were alighting on the morning breeze

a girl in the park was shuddering as she prepared to go for a run

sleepy eyes battling the morning light

windows revealing their stains in the morning glow

and out in the open the devil is still dancing his insane dance

the city wakes and the air starts to die

thunder in the west

the land is still

all is still

and the world is turning

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My name is sir walter john bethlehelm

and I am a knight of a mythical realm

my horse is black as the hell night sky

Enemies scatter scared by my War cry

The syndrome i have is classic but great

no elbow it seems can poke peas from my plate

i keep my cards right close to my chest

and when i beat you at poker its because i'm the best

But sometimes a parsnip shaped dynamic fiend

Will surprise me by singing and prancing it seems

Sylvester stallone can convince him to stop

But they’ve run out of slys at the local shop

The vegetable dancer will suck out my eyes

It might take one or multiple tries

My chest kept cards and peas on my plate

Oh save them all from their transexual fate

Peeling the corner from one of the cards

Opens a portal to beyond the stars

We enter the doorway with lisps and some cake

Me and my parsnip, cards, peas and plate

When I wake up I'm surrounded by crabs

All crawling in piles of unwanted flab

Barnacled feet protrude from the wall

From terribly old fashioned porter named paul

I take up my mace and jump on my horse

Push through the crustacian crowd with some force

But then from my side a terrible wail

Makes my fingers twitch and my face go pale

From all around me a din without equal

Erupts like a sound made by too many people

I look on in horror I start to get giddy

And see peadophiles, buggering kiddies

A great crowd of gibbering, sweaty faced men

All gurning and grunting, I turn away, then

From out of the very most corner of eye

I see brian blessed, but he's half man half fly

Oh great bearded buzzing and bellowing Brian

Please jump on thes dirty old peado's and fry'em

With your laser eyes and your sparkling cape

Prevent these poor kids from their peado rape fate

The beardy bluebottle flew into the sky

And hovers for a moment and calls out a cry

'These rapists' I think 'will certianly die'

As Brian unbuckles his pants and screams out 'Diiiiiiive'

After the squashing is over and done

My precious collection has been whisked by my mum

A bowl of bright green pea coloured cards

In a tuppaware box from a holiday in france

I snatch up my luncheon, and then turn to run

The crabs and the paedos are smashed into one

Great big evil monster with brian as a face

I will need better weapons than my one little mace

Putting my fingers deep into my ears

I squeeze out a sound from tears for fears

A high pitched oink with a grease porky beat

my face sends forth pot roast and knocks Brian to his feet

The wobbling child molesting brian blessed foe

Wobbles his matter and begins to glow

From out of my pocket fly chas and dave

And construct from brian's carcass a cockney cave

And lo and behold a knees up was had

With dubious dave and the man they call Chaz

And paedos went fleeing as if from a storm

No longer a threat to the gasping new born

But Chazzy and Dave have a dastadly scheme

And produce from their pockets a magical bean

"Hear you go sonny, put this in the ground"

And then from their mouths...a giggling sound

I was dubious yes I thought this all strange

So I waited until they were out of range

Then not waiting for any more time to go by

The magical bean went into my eye

It lodged there quite sweetly, like a well behaved bean

But later that day I began to scream

As from out of my face grew a massive bin liner

And my body oozed pus like a mouldy vagina

From out of the murk came the smug double act

"ha...you have made such a terrible pact"

They said to me lauging as I struggled and squirmed

If you take beans from us you will surely be turned

Into a miserable vaginoid sack

"Please help me" I cried "wont you please turn me back"

"I don’t think so" they smirked and threw me to the mud

Your going to be the new bin in our pub.

My prestigeous knight status was stained and smeared

I was no longer a master of violence and fear

Now people deposit soiled waste in my eyes

Whilst chas and dave wear their cockney disguise

Whilst I lay crouched and covered in muck

I discover my peas behind an old packet of 'luck'

I rummage around in my bin liner eyes

And discover a rather perculiar prize

Flipping right over onto my back

I manage to reach right down into the sack

And feeling my way around In the dark

I grab something warm the shape of an arse

The arse is podgy, callous, caucasion

And not only that, it's dressed for the occasion

Wearing a bow tie and shorts made from crime

It barks out for me to tell it the time

Why? Well dressed anus, do you need to know,

The name of the hour and can we not go

To a shoppe far from here where perhaps there are guns

And shoot chaz and dave, their dads and their mums.

The stylish sphincter, turned around, winked

And pulled out intestines all fleshy and pink

From out of the gap inbetween its pale cheeks

"With this new time lapse stomach, I'll bury these freaks!!"

It screamed with a terrible deafening roar

I told it the time as I dove to the floor

Over my head the bums guts went a screaming

To blow bits of dave all over the ceiling

Dave and the Chaz were blown up like balloons

Which brought to an end their gay cockney tunes

An with the end of this strange batty verse

I was freed from the pain of the pubby bin curse.

I leapt full of joy to my newly found feet

And ran like a spaz from the pub to the street

Where I found a pound coin in the shape of tear

Which I put in a slot I had found in my ear

The street and the pub and the corpses and cars

Dissolved in a vortex of bright swirling stars

And when I came round bile stuck in my throat

I was now the theme music of murder she wrote.

As I sang an old woman typed at a type writer

Telling the tales of this old-aged crime fighter

Angela Lansbury, pensioner and grandma

A stupid old woman with dellusions of grandeur

Melody and chorus came to and end

With an almighty verse that was sure to offend

My lyrics were swearing about paedo perversion

The punters were shocked! What a cunning diversion

When no one was looking I leapt on my steed

Whilst angela's war wounds all started to bleed

From them poured tango of multiple flavours

And all kinds of snacks from malteesers to quavers

This writer and actor bled pure entertainment...

While I flew in the sky filled with derangement

My senses now filled with a gay abstract chorus

I flew on my steed the ground layed out before us.

My steed was an old crispy packet I'd found

Alone and all weepy, picked from the ground

By my healing, golden, benevolent hands

Now forced to constantly travel the land

The tango and quavers and multilpe snacks

Were gaining quite fast, they were right on our backs!!

When all of a sudden I started to laugh

I chuckled and gibbered and giggled and gasped

The snacks were confused and scratched at their scalps

Well would of, but heads it seems they were without

And hands in fact neither these snacks did possess

But they stood there confused and scratched none the less

I looked at them stern, I stared hard and long

And said "My dear snacks. What do you stand on?"

Panic the felt and then fear and then pain

They fell to their deaths and I set off again...

I stared at the sun til my retinas burned

Then screamed at my steed who started to gurn

I pull down my pants, to my steed's frantic shock

I paint him a picture with the end of my cock

The picture is better than any ive seen

I've rendered a perfect cock painted queen

Mary Queen of scots stares at me back

And the audience around me rythmically claps

An audience ? Where ? And then how ? And then Who ?

The sound of the clapping it grew and it grew

A tumultuous roar like the screaming of goats

I turned to sea miles and miles of throats.

With two tiny arms but then hands of such size

At the end of them I nearly shat in surprise

As the clapping continued, I soon realised

They were after my crispies my strange flying prize

"We want all your crispies" the larynxs cheered

But just then the fly/Brian blessed appeared

"My god!!! Its you Brian! Tell me how do you do it!!"

Brian laughed at a snivelling throat and then blew it..

..Away with the lasers he keeps in his cheeks

Another throat mumbled, he bellowed "IT SPEAKS!!"


"We will kill you now blessed" "kill you then eat ya"

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The handy throats spake and ran forth in a throng

The ions in brians eye cannons flashed on

And then off and then on as they tore into reeems

Of desperate throats who with savage throat screams

Sang out their anthem to all that could hear

Each and every throat beast sang forth in a cheer

"We are the throat people, our tonsils will smite you

We'll Give you bronchitus and possibly bite you"

The Throats opened wide in magnificent chorus

And out stepped a throat that was totally gorgeous

The throat had high heels but no legs feet or body

It leapt to my face and it started to snog me

No lips and no tounge made kissing quite tough


Brianfly hovered above the mass throaty choir

And erected a sign that said 'throats for hire'

The throats were all sold for various means

Each buyer had some kind of devillish scheme

One wanted a throat as some strange pastry cutter

Another saw throats as bread knives to spread butter

One wanted a dog throat to get him his slippers

One wanted a beer throat to test out his bitters

One needed a throat to perform in a play

One needed a camp throat to be a bit gay.

But one throat was left and to my distate

The throat that remained was the one on my face

The sex throat all sweaty and pouty and thrusting

Still rumps on my chin like my skin needs adjusting

I wailed and yelled and gnashed all my teeth

Brian tore off the sex throat and said "look beneath...

...this terrible throat and its x rated looks

This beast could put you in the history books

I stared at the limp, squirming packet of meat

And started to feel a warm glow in my feet

That rose up to my head, it felt snug like a glove

I said "Oh my beautifull Brian!! It's love"

I swept up my bride in a florish and found

That I was unable to lift Brian from the ground

We both tumbled over and caused injury

Brian was concussed and I grazed my knee

I cried like the first weak and unsteady child

To fall to its knees, it's anus defiled

By the lumbering, weightlifting, sweaty faced ape

He shares his cell with when convicted for rape.

"My kneesies!" I wheezed won't you release me please

From the grave grazing pain that is making me freeze

Like a poor frightened bunny in the oncoming light

Of a 4 wheel drive on a highway at night.

Brian looked sad and then angry, then shocked

His eyes full of pain on his knees he did rock

Back and forth as if seeing betrayal so dire

He jumped to his feet in the street and said "liar."

In a voice that was quiet and silent and soft

I nonetheless knew that all was now lost

The pain had made plain my untruths rehearsed

I am not a knight as is said in this verse......

As all around me collapses and fades

And I realise my life is just one long tirade

I don’t wear armour a sword or a helm

I'm not a knight of a magical realm!

But brian is still here despite my realisation

his mood is more sober, like its someone's cremation

And with one final burst he claims 'THIS IS YOUR FATE'

And his bulbous brian elbow pokes the peas from my plate!

The peas from my plate at last go a streaking

Into the air just as brian starts speaking

Of a shop he has found not too far from my home

With a constant supply of Sylvester Stallones.

[end pending]

(a poem by Spaff and Slicklips)

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random gibberish, people! Not poems! Random Gibberish!

echo /dev/random >> idle_t forum

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