Talk about setting the vice precedent. Like Matthew Perry in a hot tub and J. D. Vance in a Turkish bathhouse this is going down hard and fast. Yeah, way over their heads indeed. Yup, they’ll both get to the bottom of things in a hurry. No exhilarating rush in skimming the surface, so, like Mark Carney’s fingers and thumb at a petting zoo, they’re going all in. Indeed, once the cover comes off, into the varying depths they sink. Way, way down, uncontrollably, where the streaming jets blow. Gravity takes over of such overbearing loads. Each of them swallowed whole.
Talk about a Chucklehead. Okay, don’t mind if Yours Offended By The Alphabet Creator Truly do. In honour of the dishonour of an unscrupulous sausage-fingered parasite without valour. Headed by a regular-bankruptcy is that Commonwealth of nations. Such a Crowning achievement of subjugation with a heaping helping of ethnic cleansing to bring in filleted line. You know, that Empire Du Jour of millennia baton passing same ol’ shit in a revolving pile of spent humanity. Kiss the ring. So, in honour of Satan’s special day, March 10th of concurrent sentencing without parole, please wish that old nagging biddy and slimy Limey blimey bitch King Charles the Turd a Happy Commonwealth Day! Hey, it could be his last one – on an earthly geographical location anyways. Though something tells me Chomo Chucky will be curtain twitching away many a fantastical codswallop Commonwealth celebrations as Lucifer’s Lieutenant in the fiery depths of Hellish despair alongside Satan’s Army six-hundred-sixty-six star General Queen Victoria, of whom was repeatedly impregnated in none other than the traditional drunken barn raid of “royal” copulation. Yes, that Queen Victoria – Patrolling the Gulf of Americanization in a decades long lasting joke way over the entirety of the Crown infected populace of the USA! USA! USA! Like a like like on Wastebook, substance is lacking.
Talk about shredding a pathetic “royal” lady of the night. Yours “Royal” Ripper Truly has no qualms about headhunting with the hounds while running down the hare-brained cancer sufferer. Geez, what a heartless bastard y’all are probably thinking – To which Yours Monarchist Scuttler Truly says: “Of course Chomo Chucky is a heartless bastard – and a brainless bitch too.” Like a “royal” schlong, it runs rampant into the family. Just ask Prince Andrew and Prince William and Princess Anne and Prince Harry and Prince Phillip and the Dutch “royal” family and the Spanish “royal” family and the Danish “royal” family and the Swedish “royal” family…. and don’t forget the American “loyalist” family – No tariffs indeed! Holy moley, talk about a Union, Jack!
Talk about listening to the Canadian Brainwashing Corporation (CBC) briefly with them stating that Queen Charles the Turd was living with cancer. It has been known to happen – CBC listening – an act of desperation on my part. Of which Yours No Shame Truly immediately thought: “Is Chomo Chucky really living with cancer, or is cancer really not well and truly living with Chomo Chucky?” And it is questions like that of which made me realize as to why Yours Alphabet Scrambler Truly was forced to start his own website; and then wonder how could anybody, other than by outright mistake tune in; and via flagrant disconcert for decency, along with asocial tendencies, dare to commit to a repeat visitation. Offended by the alphabet? Nope, not me. Wait til Yours Human Guinea Pig Truly publishes his self-roast. A regular masterpiece it will be, with bating hyphened in between master and piece. Yes, like a bolo-soloist on his own solo-bolo-list, the fists will be flying. And a bunch of seat-sniffing queers will probably be watching me do it in the privacy of my own bedroom. Off the charts with criminality and cowardice.
Talk about talking about the chicken or the egg query of centuries past in analogous melange: As surely mentioned before on this website, Chucklehead Chomo Chucky has cancer of the soul, as does every and all “royals” long before and ever since the Pharaohs of Egypt, therefore such hereditary cancer lifeform lineage insures that such preexisting cancer is definitively predisposed to debilitating “royal” disease not only at highly mutated cellular “royal” conception – but indeed, over millennia, said preexisting and harmonious cancer, having developed the first natural AI natural selection gene edited programming, was, with a 98.73% accuracy, able to tell when such “royal” jizz, would, like Joe ‘Poopy Pants’ Biden after hours at a toddlers easter egg hunt, be able to finally penetrate the diseased “royal” ovum and come to infect the peaceful cancer’s existence, or in alternate descriptor – get to the gooey insides. Sure it sounds complicated, but all the predisposed to “royal” disease and highly superior cancerous lifeforms had done was come to recognize their audible parasitic “royal” hosts affinity for loading up those “royal” barns with an extraordinary larger contingent of beasts from the “royal” paddocks, in turn displacing all of the prepubescent children usually fit for “royal” barn raid rape-fest. Not to mention cancer having come to recognize the unmistakable scent of sacrificial plebeian baby blood mixing with certain microorganism in the “royal” soil. That’s right, the chicken and the egg conundrum has been analogously solved: The cancer came long before being knocked down with the “royal” infectiously diseased stink.
Talk about that “royal” skivvy bitch Queen Charles the Turd licking his familial tainted genital excretion covered lips when his old battle-axe hag of cancer infecting mother Lizzy finally punched her fourth-class ticket into immediate rank and defile speciality in Satan’s Army. So, there the ol’ defunct tart Chomo Chucky was, thinking, like a Trumpian lobodomite at a NASCAR Raleigh, that he too would make an untenable and thoroughly disillusioned geographical location great for what could surely be glorious years livin’ it up on (and pleasurably inside) the proverbial hog. But little did that “royal” sword-swallowing bloke Chucky realize that his cancerous host was in no way strong enough, nor have the cancer-saving fight to fend off the debilitating and immeasurably crippling infection of such a highly mutated “royal” disease. Queen Charles took the fight right out of cancer itself. Not even a souped-up scarifier could rescue Cancer from Chomo Chucky. So, it could be said, like Commonwealth Day in North Korea – Lil’ Kim jackbooted that bitch into non-existent oblivion. Poof – Satan’s Navy – soon to have an expert “royal” knob polisher in the rank of Rear Admiral. And yes, the Rear Admiral was Jimmy Saville’s first mate!
Talk about prioritizing the “royal” suffering. Oh yeah, the AI evolved cancer knew – there was a big time AI anomaly on that one! For the first time in recorded history the impregnated to be was not directly related to the “royal” scum foregoing the scum-bag. Like Yours “Royal” Blaster Truly said – the cancer’s AI system sensed it, and had to instantaneously evolve for the shenanigans that Chomo Chucky had used while scrogging Princess Dianna, when so during the act, used all of his filthy “royal” computing power to not only think of every age of child from newborn to age twelve that he had ever defiled, but he also was simultaneously running through Old MacDonald’s Farm in animal triplicate in his “royally” shamed braincase, and not only such, but in an act of learned cancerous defence system treachery, that Teuto-Anglo scallywag Chuck had memorized the inbred relations of his filthy ancestors going back eight centuries and was rattling ’em off in conjunction with his child victims and triplicate Old MacDonald’s Farm animals from A to Z as Chucky broke the typical “royal” creampuff rule number one. And that’s how Prince William was born! – talk about a thoroughly tainted and humanity threatening hybrid seed of pure perverted abomination! Thanks to his father Chomo Chucky’s super-fornication mind-games in spreading the “royal” disease to the non “royal” diseased incubator Princess Dianna he had actually created a Teuto-Anglo-Chomo Hybrid super-predator in William. Now Wonky William is licking Princess Anne’s lips in anticipation of leading decades of “royal’ raping planet debauchery. Poor Kate. That is why, like a Bolshevik in a bouncy castle, it is time to shake things up a bit.
Romanov the lot. Including the American “loyalist” family.
Happy belated Commonwealth Day!