A new home

I am so sorry, dear friends, for my terrible inactivity.

I have been running from the notoriety of my dreadful beauty.

In desperation, I have changed my very being in order to secure my person.

You, my loyal beauty-lovers, can find me here

It is in this location that you will find me forthe foreseeable. It remains, of course, our secret.

Suhme fuhcking cuhnt

I think you should all read about a twat on this very worthy site. Uh.

The return of beauty, part 2

And so the story of my amnesiac walkabout continues...

I was standing quite, quite still, when an upsetting creature approached. I maintained my wondrous immobility but she was not deterred.

'Beauty,' she murmured. 'Mercy heaven yum it's beauty.' And then she tried to kiss me.


A pain rent my head. Memories flooded forward. Deep within in me, identity stirred.


I cried my joy and the echoes resonated across three continents. At last I knew who I was again.

A moment later, so did she.


Catharsis. Release. Joy.

My mouth moved numbly, clumsily trying to shape a long-forgotten sound.

'oooohhh'
'eeehhhh'
'eeuurgghh'

Tears streamed down my handsome face as the effort of recollection tore at my lips. And suddenly, wonderfully, I was calm. I took a deep breath, looked up to the recently-revealed sun and roared my triumphant return to the wind.

'UUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!'

Uh.

The return of beauty, part 1

I'm so sorry, my children. Have you seen that film called 'Pretty Woman'? And can you remember the bit where Richard Gere runs up the fire escape to her appartment, despite being afraid of heights? Well this was more like that bit in the first Lord of the Rings film where Gandalf appears to have died, but then comes back even more beautiful than before.


Let me explain what happened.

I was out drinking with some cool guys I know


Just having fun.

Thing is, with these friends sometimes it gets a bit dark. We were kind of tipsy, and then we started dressing up. Little did I know that my friend George had decided to bring a memory wiping neck fazhangler along 'as a joke'.


Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Not. I've been missing for two fucking weeks.

Things became a bit hazy


and when I awoke I had no memory of who I was. A mixture of the enchanted neck brace and my natural excess of testosterone meant I was unrecognisable, even to myself.


Who was I?

I wandered and I wondered, and even as I did I marveled at my own felicitous wordplay. It was just too, too delightful!


But still I was lost.

I stayed this way for many days, and I might never have recovered - let alone returned - had an unsettling incident not occurred. I'll tell you about it soon. For now, let me rest, and rejoice in my return.

Chairs I've known

My dear old grandma, the most beautiful woman in her village, used to have a rocking chair. She'd sit me on her knee, try to keep her lips from mine, and rock me to sleep. As my beauty developed my fortunes, I hankered after a chair of my own, just like my grandma's. And one day, I bought one.


I called it my rock-hard abs chair.

Eventually my buns bored right through the seat of that lovely chair, and I was beautifully sad at its passing. So much so that I went right out there and bought a new one - just as you replace anything once you're done with it, right?

But I was still SAD, y'know? So I bought a soft and comfy sofa-chair: somewhere I could lounge in a still-softer silk shirt and look meaningful. I called it my comfy-melancholy-dandy chair.


That broke too though, moulding itself to my beauty but in so doing losing its special softness.

Years passed and I knew many different chairs. And one day I thought I'd found the perfect one. I'd sit, sit, sit on it all day long, happy as a beautiful young lark.

But there was a problem. Such a problem.

You have seen the effects of beauty such as mine: just because one woman has me, does not mean others don't yearn for me. Ask my poor wife. Only you can't, unless you're an exceptionally talented spirit channeller! Because she's dead. I have told this story already.

So it was with the chair. If ever I got up, someone would sit in my place, comfortable and relaxed in its warm embrace, the receding imprint of my beauty still more than a memory. I tried to bear it, but one day I cracked. Some situations are simply too much to bear.

There I sat, in perfectly-assmebled, high-cheekboned comfort; and suddenly, she was behind me!


YEEEOOWW!

A nipple tweak is a nipple tweak, no matter who's doing the tweaking, and this is one natural beauty who does not like to be tweaked. I tried to control myself, but in the end I did what I always do. I snapped at the little minx.

"Take That!" I yelled



As I mockingly impersonated her favourite boy band. Uh.

Marrow looks out for his buddies

So the other day my phone goes and I’m like "Uh?" It’s a friend of mine.

"Hey Marrow," he asks, "What are you up to?"

And I’m like, "Right now? Showing off my guns."



Uh.

Anyway, he wants to go out. I love this guy, but he drives me crazy. Always on at me - it's like "Hey, Marrow, update your blog. I don't care if you're ill or busy or whatever, I want to hear your stories." I tell him I’ll think about going out.

The real trouble is, like a lot of my friends, he’s jealous of the looks. What he wants, more than anything, is the kind of attention I get. Every time I hit the beach, say, it’s "Quick! Look away, he might not spot us."



And I get bored of that. But someone less beautiful craves that kind of fuss around them. I just know he’s going to be hard work – this time it’ll be "Hey, Marrow, look at me! Look what happens when you wear a cow’s skin to a PETA convention!"




And then it’s like, "Oh really, what happens? Let me guess - you start to get your ass kicked and then someone beautiful has to step in?"



And then what? The Beautiful One doles out so much punishment that he gets himself arrested and is forced to wear a beauty-restricting face mask as a punishment for the rest of his days?



So instead I’m like, "No, let’s just head round mine – I’ve really got to give you a talking-to. Come round in an hour- I need to set everything up."

"Cool," he says, until he sees what I've got planned.



Uh.

Uh.

Don’t go thinking that celebrities behave any better around me. This week, some singer invites me round to look at some of her new paintings. How harmless could that be? Anyway, I get to her house, and as soon as she shows me the first one, I can see where this is going



But I’m still just like - uh. Of course she can’t drop it – how about it Marrow? You and me?



Again, all I can do is be like UH. You can guess the conversation:

BS: Please! Just give it to me...just once.
BM: Why should I treat you any differently to any other woman on Earth? No.
BS: Please!
BM: No. Besides, you have a husband, and he is very beautiful – almost as beautiful as me.
BS: Really?
BM: ...Yes.
BS: Really?



BM: Yes.

Ok, I cracked. What, I'm supposed to keep a straight face? Next thing I know, he’s right there, getting smart at me.

I am only human. I try to be the best person I can be. I offer game masterclasses to disadvantaged children



I heal injured animals, through the medium of pure beauty



But when I turn, that’s it



There was only ever going to be one man leaving that house with a smile on his face. K-Fed? K-FED????



Uh, more like.