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Is it that time of the year again? Damn!! I was hoping to have those sebaceous cysts removed from my scalp to add to your collection....

Up yours trailer trash, you already told me I could keep it. I was going to put it in a jar of malt vinegar and drink the rotten nectar at your funeral while we danced naked by the fire under the blood moon.

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The first time I met you, you angrily demanded I give you a knife. My inability to produce a knife on such short notice - in the middle of a dirtpit cum dancefloor - only made you angrier. And louder. Shrieky, even. Angry shrieky-loud. And wobbly. Very, very, very wobbly. Angry shrieky-loud wobbly.

Happy (fake?) birfday, you sick fuck.

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