The last few months have been a pretty busy time for Spawn, and what with exams and work experiences on the horizon, he has been pondering conscientiously and diligently his plans for the future. Unfortunately, and as most of the regular readers know, this involves world domination.
According to my overripe Womb-Fruit, when he is “Supreme And Almighty Ruler of the entire universe”, (although I have suggested that he change the title to ‘Ascending Ruler (and) Supreme Emperor’, or ARSE for short) one of his evil plans will be to chop off the hands of our primate cousins, and replace them with sub-atomic machine guns. There is no logical reason for this, apparently it would be just ‘for fun’.
But there is some good news. If war were to suddenly break out, my Fruit Of The Loom has assured me that I would be placed in charge of his army of disabled mutant monkeys.
“Why thank you,” I offered. “Is it because of my well honed negotiation skills? Or maybe my knowledge of modern tactical warfare? Or could it possibly be because of my fine survival instincts perhaps?”
“No”, he intoned in a voice so monotone the grass outside became depressed and tried to cut itself, “It’s because you resemble one and they are more likely to take orders from someone they can identify with.”
Spawn is currently at the local hospital, undergoing the emergency procedure of having my foot removed from his arse. And now on to today’s letter which is…
Cockney rhyming slang-Plates Of Meat
Example-“After a hard day’s shopping, me plates of meat don’t half hurt.”