Bye

M

Mel1721L

Guest
#1
See the soldier, ain't he thick,
Don't know when he's fed bullshit,
It don't matter that he's dumb,
You don't need brains to fire a gun.
 
#3
See the soldier, ain't he thick,
Don't know when he's fed bullshit,
It don't matter that he's dumb,
You don't need brains to fire a gun.
You do, actually, need fingers though. You obviously don't have any, which is why you are typing with your head.
 
Z

Zarathustra

Guest
#4
See the soldier, ain't he thick,
Don't know when he's fed bullshit,
It don't matter that he's dumb,
You don't need brains to fire a gun.
That was really good, have you written any more you could share with us?

Is your name Jim and are you banned from Cardiff buses?
 
#5
That was really good, have you written any more you could share with us?

Is your name Jim and are you banned from Cardiff buses?
Or are you western making everyone's day with a set of two goodbyes in one weekend?
 
#6
See the soldier, ain't he thick,
Don't know when he's fed bullshit,
It don't matter that he's dumb,
You don't need brains to fire a gun.

Thanks for coming but don't delay
Nobody's bothered that you're going away
and mind the door as you pass
don't let it whack you on the arrse.
 
#7
Isn't this the second time the old cnut has departed?

Bit dusty, etc etc
 
#8
Ode to Mel

You left the green and pleasant land
The place you once admired.
'Twas España where you ventured,
As you are now so old, and tired.

With time a-plenty on your hands
I bet you've been 'Barca.
And with an internet connection,
You thought that you'd become an Arrser.

It's 'oft been said of your poetry skills
"Mel you're very gifted."
But alas, within ten posts,
That view has sort of shifted.

You've never heard of Durchy
The champion of squaddie verse,
And if you had, you'd quietly think
That you could do no worse.

Well think again my ex-pat friend
You didn't get it right.
Your poor attempts at poetry
Are nothing, worse that shite.

I would suggest you find a life
Far away from planet arrse.
You are no poet laureate
Nor will it it ever come to pass.

Enjoy the sand and peasant girls
As you bide in sunny climes.
And stay away from poetry
And songs, and nursery rhymes.

Enjoy your favourite tipple,
Whether sangria or non malt Grouse.
You have the talent of a hedge baby,
But without the knowledge or the nous.

And so my suntanned loser,
The time has come, you must depart.
Not unlike a trouser burp,
An accidental fart.

Stick to what you're good at,
Don't take another fall.
Although I suspect, you know know it too,
You're good for sweet **** all.

Arte (aged 3)
 
#9
Ode to Mel

You left the green and pleasant land
The place you once admired.
'Twas España where you ventured,
As you are now so old, and tired.

With time a-plenty on your hands
I bet you've been 'Barca.
And with an internet connection,
You thought that you'd become an Arrser.

It's 'oft been said of your poetry skills
"Mel you're very gifted."
But alas, within ten posts,
That view has sort of shifted.

You've never heard of Durchy
The champion of squaddie verse,
And if you had, you'd quietly think
That you could do no worse.

Well think again my ex-pat friend
You didn't get it right.
Your poor attempts at poetry
Are nothing, worse that shite.

I would suggest you find a life
Far away from planet arrse.
You are no poet laureate
Nor will it it ever come to pass.

Enjoy the sand and peasant girls
As you bide in sunny climes.
And stay away from poetry
And songs, and nursery rhymes.

Enjoy your favourite tipple,
Whether sangria or non malt Grouse.
You have the talent of a hedge baby,
But without the knowledge or the nous.

And so my suntanned loser,
The time has come, you must depart.
Not unlike a trouser burp,
An accidental fart.

Stick to what you're good at,
Don't take another fall.
Although I suspect, you know know it too,
You're good for sweet **** all.

Arte (aged 3)
Ho ho ho, Green Giant.
 
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