Stefan Dennis round at Angel’s gaff shocka!

It was a beautiful stagnant morning. I looked out of my window to see the
postman shitting in a burnt out tyre just outside my door. He gave me the
v’s when he caught me looking and this experience really set me up for the
day. I knew I was bulletproof and nothing could soil my sunny disposition.

I reached into the value bin bags ,where I keep all my best clothes, for my
favourite tracksuit and striped t-shirt ensemble that enhanced my gunt to
perfection. Acres if gunt goodness protruded below my waistand. I admired
my reflection and fought the urge to knock one out, shedders, that’s how hot
I was. I reached for my faux leatherette bomber jacket and pulled my hair
into a scalp crucifying ponytail. I was just about to leave the house to
have a look at the burnt out tyre that the postie had crapped in, when
Stefan Dennis starts walking down my estate. He was all neckerchieved up
and his slashed jeans showed an abundance of hairy leg. He says "G’day" to
me and I pretended to pick the scabs off my knuckles. He persists, the mealy
mouthed fool that he is. "I said G’day" he ventured. "Oh I hear you" I
obstreporously replied " but I thought I told you you’re not allowed to come
near me as decreed by the papal bull issued in 1704. You tried to invade
France remember? You admired their national preponderance of wearing
neckerchiefs and their backpack wearing sensibilties. You wanted to
sexually posess them as a nation, you sick fuck". "Yes" Dennis blurted
excitedly, "but I heard that there’s a great burnt out tyre to shit in
outside your gaff and I couldn’t fight the urge any longer". His eyes were
writhing in his head and I noticed a distinct v shaped sweat stain on his
t-shirt. Depsite the terrible atrocities Dennis had commited in France,
such as installing discrete tombolas in every home and making the French
sing "Don’t it make you feel good" every time they washed their hands (even
after a wee!) there was no denying that preventing Dennis from seeing the
burnt out tyre was barbaric and a punishment far weightier than his French

"There it is" I sighed, pointing at the burnt out tyre fatalisitically. "Knock yourself out"

I turned away as Dennis lowered his trousers. I let him have his moment.

2 thoughts on “Stefan Dennis round at Angel’s gaff shocka!

  1. You lucky cow,I wish Mr Dennis could fill in my 205 / R15 Goodyears right to the brim as well.All I get is Des and Daphne. Her with a lovingly prepared bruschetta of Vine Tomatoes in one hand and Des’ cock in the other. Him with a slight frown, clutching a tea towel and bag of Harold’s spunk.Still, at least that Helen Daniels has died…..I couldn’t stand her and her homemade Lemonade…..especially when she uesd it in that wet t-shirt competition.

  2. Yeah, you could see right through to her huge whole back tattoo depicting the scales of justice with the legend ‘Vengence Shall Be Mine" undeneath. A lifetime of making casseroles for your unfortuneate, ungrateful neighbours can turn a person into a bitter, twisted, sick shell, Rolf. I think towards the end she was passing her own personal ‘morning lemonade’ into those casseroles. Regards, sireAs always, your servantDr. Angel

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