We’ve just come back from the gym and this is what we now look like. Minus the lady-face. And the ridick tattoo. Both of ’em (look closely). And minus the dry ice. And minus whatever’s going through his head. Which probably isn’t much.
Ooh and ooh, for anyone following the trials and tribulations of OCD man, he’s now got a thing for his inner thighs. Rubs and rubs and rubs, he does; but always anti-clockwise and god-damn, those thighs just can’t seem to get clean. Body’s coming on a treat, mind.
And that, ladies and gentle-ladies, is why we had to put that picture of a topless man up. That and the fact that the Baby Jesus said that if we didn’t, those poor children won’t get anything.
There’s more of that sort of thing here. Filth.