great big donkey cock

is my favourite piece of graffiti ever. i saw it 20-some years ago on the side of a bus shelter at four lane ends. it was accompanied by a diagram notable only for its anatomical inaccuracy.

it involved triangles. a faux-naif proto-banksy perhaps?

anyway that was just the usual laughable attempt to drive traffic towards double figures and amuse or embarass those kind or foolish enough to have bogrolled me. on a greener note it should provide some perv searches for me to blog about and help this to remain the sustainable source of low quality reading matter you both love – the online equivalent of recycled toilet paper. or at least that is my lofty aspiration. to that end, a minimum of 97% of the words you are reading have previously been used by me or someone else.

so if this post wasn’t about that, what is it about? (pauses and hopes to remember…)

it was in fact about a major moment of epiphany that came to me today – the latest step, if you will, on my zen road to enlightenment/endarkenment. i have learned that a household bin, fill it though you may with bleach, washing up liquid or other cleaning products will fail to do the decent thing and clean itself. only when the delicate alchemical balance is achieved between cleaning product and modicum of effort do you get a sparkly, clean-smelling bin.

glad you came? ah well.

maybe you are none the worse for the time spent here. and at least you have learned more about the great big donkey cock you sought.

19 responses to “great big donkey cock

  1. A post! A post! A post!

    See, name blanked out to protect my identity, I have you in my blogroll feed, so I saw right away that you’d posted something! Amazing. This is the first post in, what, 12 years?

    I’ve been calling you telepathically to come over and ‘splain British law to us. But I guess your telepathic ears are stopped up.

  2. oh doctor,
    i can only apologise. i have been interviewing like a crazy interviewing thing trying to get a job in the law. the thing i trained for. and it seems like i can’t. so i shall become a cabinet-maker or some such. ‘cept i’d prob’ly cut my own hands off. oh me! what shall i do?
    i shal pop over and explain the point you mentioned – actually, i have no idea where the law is on this so i shall have to make something up. it’s what the house of lords / supreme court do.
    still, i am gld you no have a reat big donkey cock on your blog.

    and if anyone is wondering, yes, i really am just seeing how many times i can say it. everyone has one task assigned by life and this is mine.

  3. and no i really didn’t have the energy to make sure any of that was typed properly. if you want me to care, you have to pay me, gentle readers. i am preparing for the imminent change of government and the second coming of the city bankers.

    also, ‘pah!’.

  4. Oh, heavens, I didn’t realize your identity was a secret! It didn’t used to be. I shall never refer to you as Great Big Donkey Cock ever again.

  5. OMG! haaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

    Wrong blog, obviously….. So sorry.

    Not to worry my son, I’ve explained Brit law as it pertains to the marginalised few to the hapless Yanks already. Now get me my cocoa please, there’s a good boy ;)

  6. Witchers! Simply!
    Blimey, ppl are coming back out of the woodwork now eh?

  7. Hello. Where?! Where is it?!

    Oh sure. Promises, promises.

  8. calm down, hoofed one, it isn’t a pien.

  9. realised i have not done proper (or indeed any) homage to the re-emergence of the witch and sb. *opens a packet of choccy hobnobs and fails to find a plate*
    hope that propitiates the tutelary deities – the gentle ones, as i know them.
    choccy hobnobs are of course a traditional mabon feast!

  10. Homage to the Witch is essential… Dunno if she likes hobnobs though, got any minstrels?

  11. have you ever known a tutelary deity NOT like hobnobs?
    that said, if the witch wants minstrels, the witch gets minstrels.

    and perhaps more importantly, as one close to the witch, if you want minstrels…

  12. Not sure about close to, but I do like minstrels, well, the chocolate variety anyway, not overly fond of being sung at – I’d laugh….

  13. *chucks her a choccy*

    least i can do for all the fish fingers and alphabetti spaghetti.

  14. Well done that boy… Pie and chips for tea tomorrow?

  15. puzzledofnetherwallop

    I haven’t quite recovered from seeing…

    OLD GINGER MINGE

    :-O

  16. how is old ginger minge anyway?

  17. Perhaps it was a real Banksy, and you should have nicked the bush shelter, and you wouldn’t need to look for a job cos you could sell it to Charles Saatchi?

    But really SW, are you surprised you get the searches you do?

  18. if banksy had been to four lane ends, i fear his career would have been a short one. they had no truck with dangerous intellectuals with cans of spray paint round there. even if they did attempt to glamourise what they did with the name of graffitti, we knew it really the dreaded ‘art’.

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