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All Right, All You Big Anti-French Pricks! Bend Over and Spread Your Ass, because you are going to receive such a big baguette dans le cul that it is going to send your eyes in orbit around your head like a cyclotron on amphetamines!
This World Cup is ordained by the gods to correct the metaphysical imbalance set in motion by the 2002 World Cup and pounced on by the Anglo Saxon race to find a scapegoat for all their failures. Only when the French again rise to the world championship will the horrible feng shui that has plagued the world with killer tsunamis and hurricanes go away and will we return to a time of peace and harmony.
Rupert Murdoch and Donald Rumsfield should be strapped to chairs, their eyes taped open with clamps like Alex in “A Clockwork Orange,” and forced to watch Zidane and Barthez accept the Cup as a flotilla of jumbo 380 airliners blackens the stadium from above, and forced to listen to an endless loop of Starmania, and NTM singing “Il y a du Bon à Seine St. Denis.”
The greatest French scientists are developing a rocket that tracks down the odor of provolone cheese, the better to send the soccer ball right up the ass of Italy.
Italie, serre tes fesses, on arrive à toute vitesse!
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Posted on 7/6/2006
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