Author Archives: rottobloggo

Outrage Sunday 221 party pack

So much depends Upon An empty party Pack Of silvery nangs Beside the munted white Shih-tzu.   

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Outrage Sunday 220 sex and drugs

A pink monster. Krazy Kym chauffeured me to Guildford Grammar so I could get pics. It was brought to our attention on a Facebook group. “Not quite what I’d hoped for when I wished that Guildford was more ‘vibrant’,” someone … Continue reading

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Outrage Sunday 219 beware of the birds

Our worsting overlord was ruthless with his worsting from the beautiful island. He didn’t see this enraging item, though. Maybe she wasn’t bewaring of the birds? They grabbed her snot-block and she wouldn’t let go. As previously seen in Geordie … Continue reading

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Outrage Sunday 218 the Monumental Cemetery of Mosman Park

(“The memory of the old city, before the recent town plannings, was in the heart of his matters”.) Prayers for the dead – is this where we drank cheap Kola Beer? I only know I feel deep blue That the … Continue reading

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Outrage Sunday 217 no dice

No wonder I’m a tempranillo man. No-one’s going to drink your chardonnay if you can’t get the dice right. Now you’re going to have to have No Junk Mail stickers on your car! Why oh why hasn’t the state government … Continue reading

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Outrage Sunday 216 V CHINA

Nicely done, madam. Bento notes: “Abbott has pushed this country so far the right, we’ve got people goose-stepping towards Mends Street.” They were simpler, gentler times in 2009, when people smiled and wet their pants. May I talk about myself … Continue reading

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Outrage Sunday 215 Dan is Gay

Don’t you dare give this woman a ticket, City of Swan (who do great signs): she’s singing, not standing. This Guildford treasure didn’t last long, anyway. I bet that’s a Nyttja frame, from our Swedish friends. This south Cottesloe scene … Continue reading

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Outrage Sunday 214 coarse climax

I apologise for any inconveieniences over today’s late Outrage Sunday. After a wonderful party in Mosman Park I rested my eyes on the train home – and woke up in Midland with three transit guards around me (or was it … Continue reading

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Outrage Sunday 213 Guildford

They wander thro’ the darken’d street, Near where the Trust’d Swan does flow. And mark on every trunk they meet Chucks of chipness, spews of woe. In every hurl of every Man, In every Dickheads cry for beer, In every … Continue reading

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Outrage Sunday 212 long todge

I’d never seen a penis set savagely on fire – and I still haven’t. Wouldn’t doing it savagely involve a flamethrower? Couldn’t Teh West have changed the headline when they got the story? Imagine the conflagration if a long todge … Continue reading

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