After the bitterness and recriminations of Mayonnaise's ambitious attempt to move the gang from the beloved Paramount had subsided, the three male members - or arguably two plus Butter - regrouped at the God-forsaken shithole for some chow.
Space was at a premium in the usual seating area, so Peanut and Butter decided to try a new position. And after they'd finished (in record time!), they also decided to try sitting in a new spot. Light filtered through the Paramount's opaque apertures and gave the lunchtime encounter a romantic feel. Jelly was clearly enamoured with the contemporary seating arrangement as it was written all over his pants.
Peanut was seeking extra mouthfeel from his meat and despite avoiding the duck which was proudly on display in one of the bain-marie's vanity windows, decided to try a new providore of haute cuisine from within the Paramount's hallowed food court. After admiring his sultry sustenance, Butter was keen to open Peanut's beef curtains but he was unfortunately flying the Japanese flag.
Jelly and Butter conducted an audit of Peanut's calendar, which in a remarkable change of policy had been issued in the same year as the dates on display in the calendar. There was much mirth in the timeless conundrums of life imitating art imitating life. Jelly and Butter commended Peanut for his remarkable talents, which clearly stretch beyond Lead Choreographer and Fluffer of the Cheeky Chaps. He is destined to capture Larry Pickering's crown.
Butter admitted that he still regularly masturbates at work which brought empathetic acknowledgement from Peanut and Jelly. Between the three of them, enough white wee wee could be garnered to even sate the voracious appetite of Feargul Sharkey.
Jelly noted that Peanut was no longer wearing a tie. Clearly Peanut is only prepared to tie objects around his neck for recreational purposes.
The chaps bade each other farewell and headed back to the soulless, meaningless nihilism that is their daily lives.
Friday, 13 February 2015
Wednesday, 4 February 2015
why do chaps pull out at the last minute?
I, Mayonaise was stood up!
So I spent the time wisely google'ing' (how to spell a made up word?!) one of my favourite trash subjects, "bad tattoos". Here is an example of a team effort:
Ps. I, Mayonaise am a cleanskin so can laugh at the misfortune of others.
So I spent the time wisely google'ing' (how to spell a made up word?!) one of my favourite trash subjects, "bad tattoos". Here is an example of a team effort:
Ps. I, Mayonaise am a cleanskin so can laugh at the misfortune of others.
Monday, 2 February 2015
New year, new expectations
Today was tense.
Previously, Mayo had suggested an alternate venue for the chaps/ette to meet- Who the fuck does she think she is!
Shot down and pre-eaten (who can make until 1pm for sustenance anyway!), she slinked into home base, tail between her leg (only one, the other is a prosthetic, and it's not a good idea to mention her tail with the 'anger issues').
Peanut was scoffing some kind of unidentifiable 'wanka' down, oyster sauce indulging him the lubrication for his deep throat. Apple juice was providing a much needed sugar hit, words coherent...not...too...much.
Butter was dining on one rice paper roll and one apple. His diet was a discussion point, so svelt is he. Privately schooled, one would expect him to have adequate nutritional knowledge, and, as he admitted, he puts the 'fist' in sophisticated. When not dining in such extraordinary company he enjoys nuts, activated personally, and the occasional meat and 3 vege.
Jelly was distracted, aloof even. Once pumped, and probed.... for information, it was revealed he aspires to be Centre Manager of the Paramount! Oh to walk the floor, hire and fire, filling the voids of the Paramount with his presence, and, some new tenants. I'm sure we will discuss how to make this dream a reality at a future executive lunch meeting.Do not fear little Jelly, dreams really can come true (if you really believe, and you know the c**ts in head office).
It was revealed that on the classy and assy, Grinder, Butter is also known as the 'Stubby Hubby'. Do ya self a favour young lovers and look him up.
At some point the conversation turned to family... phones came out with family snaps and 'all of a sudden' club members were busy and important and quickly dispersed.
This clip 'nearly' does justice to how I, Mayo feel about the Paramount Club: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hci3QQhMrdE.
Previously, Mayo had suggested an alternate venue for the chaps/ette to meet- Who the fuck does she think she is!
Shot down and pre-eaten (who can make until 1pm for sustenance anyway!), she slinked into home base, tail between her leg (only one, the other is a prosthetic, and it's not a good idea to mention her tail with the 'anger issues').
Peanut was scoffing some kind of unidentifiable 'wanka' down, oyster sauce indulging him the lubrication for his deep throat. Apple juice was providing a much needed sugar hit, words coherent...not...too...much.
Butter was dining on one rice paper roll and one apple. His diet was a discussion point, so svelt is he. Privately schooled, one would expect him to have adequate nutritional knowledge, and, as he admitted, he puts the 'fist' in sophisticated. When not dining in such extraordinary company he enjoys nuts, activated personally, and the occasional meat and 3 vege.
Jelly was distracted, aloof even. Once pumped, and probed.... for information, it was revealed he aspires to be Centre Manager of the Paramount! Oh to walk the floor, hire and fire, filling the voids of the Paramount with his presence, and, some new tenants. I'm sure we will discuss how to make this dream a reality at a future executive lunch meeting.Do not fear little Jelly, dreams really can come true (if you really believe, and you know the c**ts in head office).
It was revealed that on the classy and assy, Grinder, Butter is also known as the 'Stubby Hubby'. Do ya self a favour young lovers and look him up.
At some point the conversation turned to family... phones came out with family snaps and 'all of a sudden' club members were busy and important and quickly dispersed.
This clip 'nearly' does justice to how I, Mayo feel about the Paramount Club: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hci3QQhMrdE.
Sunday, 1 February 2015
Paramount within a Paramount
Dear readers, I apologise for the lateness of this report but laziness and a state of general apathy were preventing me Peanut from completing my correspondent duties for the Paramount group. However, I managed to break free of the sticky and terrible tendrils of lassitude to put together this rather unremarkable entry.
Well I remember officer that I got there first on the day in question. As usual, I sat at my table and wondered if anyone was going to turn up. Sure nuff, no sooner had I cogitated on this gloomy possibility when Jelly emerged from behind a plastic palm tree shouting, “Surprise to you Peanut.” I turned around to face him with a stupid grin on my face and have a piece of curried beef hanging out of my chops. You see, I had visited once again the kitchens of Chef Lanka to get my lunch for that day. As Chef Lanka once said with great wisdom, “Eat all you can at the Lanka you fat c**ts.” So as I worked my way through my meal with Jelly sitting opposite, good ol’ Butter turned up with his ear glued to his mobile phone on important business matters. I can’t remember if Mayo turned up. It was so long ago and the details remain increasingly vague and unretrievable to me. It has now become but I dream within a dream. Like a Paramount within a Paramount. Sort of like that movie Inception but I don’t get to play the main Leonardo di Caprio role. Sorry I can’t shed any more light on the incident officer. I have no idea what happened after that knock to the head on the stairs or how I ended up wrapped in a cigarillo in that well-known hangout for fancy men. Just to note that a supporter of the UK Independence Party at Ramsgate opined how he looked around his town and didn’t know where he was anymore with all those dark and swarthy faces at the supermarket and the constant jibber jabber of foreign tongues. It’s not the England that his mother and her mother before her fought and died for I tell you that. Over and out for now. Mr Peanut.
Well I remember officer that I got there first on the day in question. As usual, I sat at my table and wondered if anyone was going to turn up. Sure nuff, no sooner had I cogitated on this gloomy possibility when Jelly emerged from behind a plastic palm tree shouting, “Surprise to you Peanut.” I turned around to face him with a stupid grin on my face and have a piece of curried beef hanging out of my chops. You see, I had visited once again the kitchens of Chef Lanka to get my lunch for that day. As Chef Lanka once said with great wisdom, “Eat all you can at the Lanka you fat c**ts.” So as I worked my way through my meal with Jelly sitting opposite, good ol’ Butter turned up with his ear glued to his mobile phone on important business matters. I can’t remember if Mayo turned up. It was so long ago and the details remain increasingly vague and unretrievable to me. It has now become but I dream within a dream. Like a Paramount within a Paramount. Sort of like that movie Inception but I don’t get to play the main Leonardo di Caprio role. Sorry I can’t shed any more light on the incident officer. I have no idea what happened after that knock to the head on the stairs or how I ended up wrapped in a cigarillo in that well-known hangout for fancy men. Just to note that a supporter of the UK Independence Party at Ramsgate opined how he looked around his town and didn’t know where he was anymore with all those dark and swarthy faces at the supermarket and the constant jibber jabber of foreign tongues. It’s not the England that his mother and her mother before her fought and died for I tell you that. Over and out for now. Mr Peanut.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)