Monday, August 22, 2016

All Aboard for Rowin' Wagstaff Wetone

"Hello Mateys, it's me, Rowin' Wagstaff Wetone. My rowboat is almost ready to sink, but if you think I'M fat, check out my wife AMY! Ahar! A harpoon for that bundle o' blubber! Watta whale!"

"You might ask why I'm posting on this blog. Well, I think I'm disgusting but amusing. I also offer public service advice: if your wife has a face like it was sculpted out of past-expiration date dumplings, and if her main interests are in drawing pictures of diseased cells and in reading from "Pride and Prejudice," then you're better off at sea!

"I'm at sea. I'm pretty nauseous, too. But that's because my diet is mostly dried ostrich turds. They don't go bad. How could they?

"Find whatever job you can, in order to stay away from your homely obese wife. I worked on a cruise ship but the band was giving me indigestion. The drummer was a hairy slob who used to pounce on seagulls, squeeze them till the liquid shit splooted from their vents, and quaff it all down with some beer. That nearly put me off my ostrich shit.

"After I left the cruise ship (actually they threw me overboard), I worked as a master baiter for Robin Vergin. He's some fat bloke who likes to fish. The problem was he was constantly reaching into my pants to touch my worm, if you know what I mean. I'd tell him, "Just sit quietly and listen to yer Matt Munro records, and see if you can catch an eel," and he'd moan, "Don't YOU have an eel for me?" After I left Robin (actually, I threw him overboard) I sailed away for a year and a day to the land where the bong tree grows.

"I realize this was rather stupid of me.

"I became short of funds and couldn't afford a proper boat any longer. I went to the Grimsby Shipworks, where they hammer and bang all day (once in a while, they work on boats). I said to one man, "Can I find myself a little dinghy?" You can imagine the response. I was thrown overboard. Something about telling me I should join the River Police.

"I settled for this rowboat. There was nothing in it. I asked, "Would you at least give me an oar?" And the guy said, "Oi, ya married one." Everybody's a comedian. Well, not everybody. There's Lenny Henry, after all.

"I went on GoFundMe and got enough money for a pair of oars. And so here I am, eating ostrich shit, and doing my best not to come home. I wax my mustache so that the ostrich shit slides off. I hope to grow my mustache long enough that I can eventually come home and strangle Amy with it.

"Oh, it'll be a fair fight. Her pubic hair is thick and smelly and she might suffocate me first!"

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