The Tale O Stinky Bri

[Redforever86]

It’s tayport toon, june ‘91.
E tarmac tears eneath the sun,
Junkie Joe’s a money making,
Puntin packs o un-bought bacon,
Passerby’s pause an sneer and scowl,
Fits at fucking smell sae foul?

An ogre stumbles, greasy mullet,
Smelling like an unkempt gusset,
A fish wifies kitchen his smelt cleaner,
Eh butchers dog his been leaner,
Oh fit a site, oh fit ah state,
Fa produced this infant reprobate?!

 

Yi can blame the mither, or the faither.
Bit the loons jist nae a baither,
They don’t shut aff the tap fir profit,
The kid just won’t embrace a faucet.
But ever grew the locals ire,
To breath clean air their one desire,
And chased the family oot o toon,
Cause of thon pungent loon!

 

Mak haste, let’s go pronto,
A’ben e sea tae Toronto.
Wi ah e snow and ah e ice,
Might e cal keep him smelling nice?
Bit as e Canucks slid on e rink,
They arrived upon a dreadful stink.
Minus 10 couldnae keep ‘im fresh an quell,
The worlds most abhorrent smell.

They spied the poster fae the Mounty,

Kill 'is bairn, ten thousan dollar bounty.

 

Aff again, anither country,
Far it’s still affy wintry,
Bit add some mighty precipitation,
To see if it aids e situation.
E family packed in disarray,
Aff we ging tae Norway.

 

 

 

To be continued.

[The Boofon]

Hahahahaha

[BrianFaePerth]

It’s tayport toon, june ‘91.

E tarmac tears eneath the sun,

Junkie Joe’s a money making,

Puntin packs o un-bought bacon,

Passerby’s pause an sneer and scowl,

Fits at fucking smell sae foul?

An ogre stumbles, greasy mullet,

Smelling like an unkempt gusset,

A fish wifies kitchen his smelt cleaner,

Eh butchers dog his been leaner,

Oh fit a site, oh fit ah state,

Fa produced this infant reprobate?!

 

Yi can blame the mither, or the faither.

Bit the loons jist nae a baither,

They don’t shut aff the tap fir profit,

The kid just won’t embrace a faucet.

But ever grew the locals ire,

To breath clean air their one desire,

And chased the family oot o toon,

Cause of thon pungent loon!

 

Mak haste, let’s go pronto,

A’ben e sea tae Toronto.

Wi ah e snow and ah e ice,

Might e cal keep him smelling nice?

Bit as e Canucks slid on e rink,

They arrived upon a dreadful stink.

Minus 10 couldnae keep ‘im fresh an quell,

The worlds most abhorrent smell.

They spied the poster fae the Mounty,

Kill 'is bairn, ten thousan dollar bounty.

 

Aff again, anither country,

Far it’s still affy wintry,

Bit add some mighty precipitation,

To see if it aids e situation.

E family packed in disarray,

Aff we ging tae Norway.

 

 

 

To be continued.

Yawn

[Redforever86]

Yawn

Gads, can smell yir breath fae here.

[BrianFaePerth]

Gads, can smell yir breath fae here.

You could always sniff the pants of a paperboy if that helps

[BrianFaePerth]

Magnificent RF86.

That's the sort of thing I'd write.

A compliment if ever there was one.

[Red_Rocket_1983]

Now I don’t want to sound like a fairy,

Said the paperboy , to RF,( very early),

Sure I asked for a bag ,

To deliver these mags,

But the sack that you've offered is hairy !

 

[Redforever86]

Smiles how can I help you?

But it’s all a mesk.

Hans has a secret.

Half bottle in his desk.

 

Soaked in Rachminikoff,

Tripping over, eyes gleary.

Fifty percent off,

How about a new settee?

[Fridge]

There once was a man called Bri

Who smelled like a prostitutes pie

His odour destroyed lives

He is repugnant to his mates wife’s

Hence he had to leave Dundee and fly