The Homicidal Urges

Hold on to your hats, boys and boyettes. This is going to be a Whingefest (tm)

I like insomnius's "Letters of Hatred," therefore this will follow the same format.


Dear MYER in Bourke Street,

Thank you for nearly inducing an epileptic fit on me with your shitty lighting and your "basement" area that contains supposedly trendy clothes, but in reality makes everyone who wears them look like fucktards. I know because I saw plenty of examples of these fucktards roaming these strobe-lit areas packed to the rooftops with clothes I would burn rather than wear.

Yours faithfully,
clappamungus


Dear Red Rooster,

I should sue your collective arses for attempted food poisoning. That meal I paid almost 10 bucks for would have been rejected by a starving Somali. I don't give a shit if you're "Proudly Australian," that means nothing to me if you serve swill.

Hoping your executives all suffer excruciating demises,
clappamungus


Dear Teenage Wankers,

Would it kill you to pull up your fucking pants? I don't want to see your sweaty hairy butt cracks that are barely covered with your equally sweaty boxers. Here's a hint - you know the seat of your pants? It helps if your arse is encased in the seat, rather than flopping around your goddamn knees somewhere. It was hard enough to eat my hideous red Rooster without having to glimpse your plumber's crack.

Please fall off your skateboards and be paralysed forever,
clappamungus


Dear Christmas,

Eat me. I hope you never come around again. You are nothing but a gigantic pain in the arse and if you were a person I would wish the worst VD that comes to mind on you.

Sincerely,
clappamungus

******

This Whingefest (tm) has been brought to you by the letters F-U-C-K O-F-F.

Signing off now,

clappamungus