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Chickens,

Grow some fucking balls. Stop dying. Stop wandering off you stupid little bastards.

I feed the morons, I clean out their fucking house, which cost me £350. I give them the finest table scraps, tins of value sweetcorn from Facist-Mart, potatoes, mash, corn… I even bought them a bloody sausage roll the other day. That’s right – a sausage fucking roll.

Then they lay no bastard eggs, they rip the shit out of my garden, their ‘leader’ – this so-called hard nut called Harvey (after Keitel), this stupid cockerel that spends more time kicking MY ass than he does looking after his bitches.

They lay no eggs, they spread out all over the place when I let them out (when they should in fact be moving like the SAS going through an Afghanistan fucking goat pickling ceremony). They make a right racket, too. The cockerel screams his beak off half the time. I mean this little bastard is loud. Gives a bloke a fucking headache. Is everything in this life designed to stop me drinking cider I ask you ?

Chickens. Don’t do it. Once you get used to them you’ll want the eggs, and the place isn’t the same without them, but hell they need to toughen up. They certainly aren’t living up to expectation.

Does anyone on here know of any ‘hard-motherfucker’ breeds of chicken out there – because the ones I keep getting are getting fucked up on a regular basis. And that shit is upsetting too. Poor little feathery bastards.

One could keep them in a run – but all day? Better to live like a dangerous motherfucking little chicken and enjoy the sunshine out than be stuck in a cage all day. This I know.

Peace.
AM

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Someone just landed on RantasaurusRex.com by Googling:

“steel reserve nightmares”

Now, that has to be the most twisted thing I’ve ever heard!

For those of you fortunate enough never to have tasted the bitter urine that is a 40 oz of Steel Reserve, the 11% alcohol malt liquor… consider yourself lucky.

Apparently, it either gives you nightmares after you drink it or you wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat thinking that you’ve been drinking Steel Reserve.

Either way, hopefully this never happens to me and the poor soul that typed that into Google, may our site help you in some small way and may God have mercy on your soul.

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Dear Brain,

What gives with all the nightmares? Here I am, just trying to get some sleep and there you are, sending me dreams about dead hobos and hacked up toddlers and, worst of all, trips to Fuddruckers.

I don’t get it! I give you nothing but love, oxygen and the occasional booze coma, and you’re dishing up all this disgusting shit.

Watch your back, brain, or I’ll put you on some pills. This skull ain’t big enough for the both of us.

Cordially Yours,
The Human You Control Who Can’t Afford Therapy

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