One day after a particularly tough rollicking from his latest wife Bruno Brookes decides that in his constant struggle for superiority over women he has been defeated, and so, in rolling out one old chestnut after another to console himself he gets out one of his favoured index cards and writes: “If you can’t beat ‘em (and you can’t Bruno, John Law says so) join ‘em” and selotapes this to his forehead before going to his GP to get the ins-and-outs of sex realignment op.
Here he is enjoying a tryst with Michelle McManus who Bruno has signed to his new record label, Mullet in a Gusset, in a vain attempt to get back into Show Biz. Unfortunately Michelle’s first single ‘Would You Eat Lasagne With Me’ sank without a trace and the label went into liquidation. Bruno though, no stranger to failure and a genius in turning a turd into a triple layer sponge cake of cash re-launched the label as a porn outfit, married Michelle in Britain’s first ever lesbian-transgender-marriage officiated over by the newly ordained Jedward (who have also signed up to the smut label as a novelty gay-twin-incest priest outfit) and since then the bizarre porn he produces, (a screen cap of which appears below) has seen him/her amass a fortune of 100million pounds, most of which he/she has reinvested into shares in hotdogs and the people that produce the jokes on ice lolly sticks.
From the Bruno Brookes produced porno ‘An Angel In My Fanny’ a much circulated shot* taken by Gloria Hunniford of her very distended labia in which she insists you can see the face of her beloved dead daughter and ex-Blue Peter illuminati (alumnus) Karen Keating.
Today while kicking around a few ideas as to how to make money to feed the baby Kimba will be dropping soon, I drew up finally two possibilities;
1. Turn her out. ---- Downside: John’s mostly don’t go for pregnant chicks, so I’ve heard.
2. Put her in the movies, i.e. porn. The freaks are no longer on the streets and have decamped to their bedroom. There’s any amount of freaks out there looking to get their rocks off to dubious material. One facet of the freak market is pregnant chicks porno. In porn the more freakish the shit the higher a price you can sell it for.
So I put this latter idea to Kimba, telling her that if we’re freaky enough one video could pay off so much we wouldn’t have to make any more.
How freaky, she asked.
Well, very, I said. Like some sort of bestiality will have to be involved. Probably the imbibing of menstrual blood. Maybe at some point we could induce labour and when the wee scrota comes out we get the dog, some big Alsatian or Pit Bull or something, to eat it alive. Freaks dig death -
No, she squealed.
Only joking, I chortled.
I’m up for some freaky shit, she said conveniently. Me and The Mistress used to get up to all sorts of profaneness. Actually she could help us out no end in this. Let’s get her help. I’m sure she’s forgiven me for our last falling out, plus you can finally get to meet her. Yay, she went in a meek-numb faux smack head fashion.
No fuck, meet her? I said with much more feeling...No! We can do it ourselves.
* The above is mostly made up, but whoever can tell me what this really is will get a surprise baggy from yours truly, Danny Pongo. --- And so here's Bowie, Hammersmith 1972 to ruminate to:
You're a disturbed focking man, Danny Pongo. I love you, but not zealously.
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