Just back from my hols to Edinborough. Or Embra, as they say in Scotch-land. Been enjoying some Scotch lovin' with my new pash, John "smeato" Smeaton - the scourge of Osama Bin Laden.
Anyhowz, while I was in Scotchland visiting Smeaty-cakes I happened to take in a show at the Edinburgh Festival.
We checked out a chat show from an ex-politician, Tommy Sheridan, who the audience kept heckling with: "Gie us a can o' Tango, Tommy!"
(Not sure what that means, puss-faces ... ain't Scotch people weird!)
(Not sure what that means, puss-faces ... ain't Scotch people weird!)...Was like sooooo puzzled by this strange, orangey freak's show, I decided to Google his ass. Every other story I found seemed more outrageous than the last, with headlines like: "Sex-Mad Tommy" or, "Tommy Snorted Cocaine" and"Tommy Drops His Briefs".
Hmmm, I thought. Maybes I just GOTTA meet this guy - maybe Smeatoid's gettin a bit Z-list for an international playgirl like moi, ka-peesh?
Next thing I knew, the orange wonder had me EVERY (and I mean EVERY dahlinks) which way in his green room. Sheesh.
He is packin’ large and knows how to use his equipment. Able to fill out Gold Trojan Magnums XL, he serves it straight up and damn good. What with that, and an impressive array of "accessories" we made more than whoopee, goddamit. I wasn't able to walk the line for the rest of the week.
Gross me out with an industrial-size bottle of KY-409, already. Goddamn.
Loony left? More like do me Right mister. Phew. Is it gettin' hot in heere? Or is it just me?
(Don't tell Smeats, Peris cheated, 'kay? Whatta piece of ass.)
Till next time, pussies... Peris xxxx
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