Viewing Thread:
"A Life Of Vice"

David awoke in his grimy 1 bedroom flat to the sound of a ringing telephone. He waded across the floor of his flat littered with pizza boxes and empty whiskey bottles from the night before. Strewn across the tables were countless ornaments and other cheap tat that he told people they were valuable and imported from the finest craftsmen of Italy, however in reality they were picket up from discount supermarkets and bulk-retailers. Life had hit David hard and he has been reduced to drunken nights alone, often smashing up hotel rooms and starting fights with security guards.

David picked up the phone and after clearing his throat, still stained with the remnants of the previous nights binge, and soberly questioned, “Hello?” A frantic young voice yelled down the line, “David! You were meant to be here an hour ago, where the hell are you?” David started glumly at his messy bed and crumpled sheets and replied, “I got caught up in something, I’ll be right there” David hung up the phone and walked over to his wardrobe to dress, there was no time to shower.

He selected a purple suit and green shirt combination, a beige belt and a pair of platform shoes finished off the outfit nicely. He walked into the bathroom and attacked his unruly locks with a mist of hairspray, which reduced him to a coughing fit due to his state of ill health. He reached inside the bathroom cabinet and plucked a large white tub that read, ‘The secret to success’. He screwed off the large lid and placed it carefully on the side of the bath before scooping up a large handful of the orangey substance inside. He rubbed the substance into a lather and with both hands smeared it evenly over his blemished face. Once he had checked for imperfections he swiftly put the lid back on the tub and placed it back in the cabinet from which it came.

David quickly grabbed his coat, left his flat and almost ran to the street below. He hailed for a taxi and was driven away to his destination at once. Once there he walked briskly inside and apologised for his lateness to a secretary on a desk facing the large swinging doors from which he entered. He was ushered though the building to a door that led to a stage; David familiarly walked through the door and stared up at the harsh bright studio light that nearly melted the orange substance spread across his face. He opened his mouth and in his chirpiest voice he exclaimed, “Good morning bargain hunters!”

Cheers...

I almost laughed. I was expecting something which included David dieing so i kinda didn't expect to be wanting to laugh.


Yeah.

I Hate Dvid Dickh*ad!

i want to put his head in a blender with some strawberrys and bannanas
and put him in an ice cube tray

then flush his already spunk stained body down the bog!

Gimp stain

Dark Mark™ wrote:
> Well it wasn't supposed to be. Not my fault if Mr Idiomatic can't
> interpret messages properly.

Then it must have been some sort of deranged nod of agreement. Or maybe it was just deranged.

Count Vernacular wrote:
> And that was very nearly an insult.

*

Well it wasn't supposed to be. Not my fault if Mr Idiomatic can't interpret messages properly.

Dark Mark™ wrote:
> Two words:
>
> Your
>
> Mum

And that was very nearly an insult.

and? what in the world is that meant to be? some sort of insult??

Count Vernacular wrote:
> Ho-Ho-Ho. That was very nearly funny.

*

Two words:

Your

Mum

Merry Christmas to you too.