Jimmy is in love with a girl called Cumberland, but she does not love him back on account of him being a Thick Cunt.
Plus, what with her looking like miss luton 1972 with her big hair and her leopard skin swimsuits, anybody with half a brain can see this particular bit could have #anybloke. And Jimmy with his beady eyes and over-prominent brow looks like a mug of microwaved dog sputum.
But Jimmy is Too Thick to know this. He is maybe the Thickest Cunt to have ever lived. He sees Cumberland and reckons his life has been a half-life so far. So he sends her readers poems from the tv times he’s cut out and put in a brown vanilla envelope from rymans, that he then Seals With A Fist. Weeks go bye but no rsvp. By now jimmy is about ready to explode. He starts to follow Cumberland wherever she goes. he prostates himself before her and Tears His Clothes Asunderland and weeps Bitter Lake at her neon pink toes and begs her to be his eternal love or to at least touch It once with her alley baster hands. but that only gets him exiled from dixons (See: PC WORLD).
What a predicky mint. Desperate to bag his sweet sweet Cumberland, jimmy consults the Horror Call for his Horror Scope. The Horror Call sees the misty call order of everycunt and foretells the future via the medium of pub toilet wall. Jimmy can tell he’s at the right cubicle cos YOU’RE FUTURES FLUSHED is written on the door and cos of all the pilgrims on their knees praying. Jimmy scrawls his pleas on the tiles and makes the traditional offering of 20 x bensons and 1 x slab of Skol. Then Jimmy plays the Waiting Game.
Many moons go bye. Jimmy’s hair thins and his belly grows, big enough that jimmy gets his own postcode. Haha what a fat bastard. Jimmy tries to focus on something else and gets into magnets for a bit. He puts them on the daytime telly and makes philip schofield’s face go weirder than normal. he goes to bnp meetings and listens to the sermons and sings all the hymns but mainly he’s there for the spread they put on afterwards at the back of the hall.
but all the time he still dreams of Cumberland. he visits the pub toilet every night and starts to get a reputation for hanging around toilets if you catch my drift (see: PROFESSIONAL ARSE TRADER). He doesn’t mind tho because he has a One True Love and anyway he makes a Pretty Penny because the punters like his melon cola face.
One day, Jimmy looks at the wall and to his astoundment finds that the Horror Call has left his Horror Scope. This fills Jimmy with hope like his head is full of fizzy wasps. The Horror Scope says to win Cumberland’s heart, Jimmy needs to prove he’s a Real Man’s Man. (see: ACT OF DEVOTION). Now this bit of content is a real headstumper. While Jimmy ponders this riddle, more forlorn than ever before, a Genuine Customer comes in to use the bogs. He undoes his fly and Jimmy spies that this man has a medical condition what the Merriam-Webster’s Online Medical Dictionary defines as: PRINCE ALBERT.
Jimmy winces at the thought of Mortifying His Flesh like this. But then a lightbulb goes ping above Jimmy’s head like what happens in the looney tunes. What could prove his love for O Darling Cumberland than mutiliating his manhood?
Several moons of pacing around his bedsit go bye. One morning, Jimmy bites the gullet. He goes down poundhell and gets a pack of coathangers and a key ring and a 1996 calendar of pierce brosnan for inspiration he spies in the Bargain Trough for £0.01p (epic scenes of pierce walloping the frogs at dunkirk in 1066). he gets home and heats up a coathanger with the stove. When the coathanger is sizzling, jimmy looks at october pierce for courage (who winks back with the rascal charm of el bastard irish), takes one last swig of export strength lager and with one foul whoops, pierces his brosnan.
To say this is a botched job would be Understatement Of The Year 1998. admiring his handy work in the wardrobe mirror, Jimmy thinks it looks like a pitbull has gnawed on his Gentleman’s Cock thinking its a free steak dinner. Plus he now pisses so many different directions his bell is like a colander. this is a less than eye deal situation. But there really is no going back now he’s done the deid. So he pulls up his kecks, careful not to catch the keyring in his zip, and hobbles off to Cumberland’s front door to make one last desperate pitch.
But Poor Jimbo, hes losing blood. hes losing so much blood there’s a trail what looks like a slug is dying from gut stab. hes getting weaker and weaker and now he can’t even remember what number Cumberland lives at, let alone why there’s so much blood leaking out of him in the downstairs department. But a tiny pixel of hope keeps him upright, tells him to keep going son. So he does. He plods on like he’s being pulled by an invisible threat through the Desolate Streets.
This is where the tale gets hazy as bongsmoke and myth Takes Up The Rains. Nobody knows if Jimmy ever makes it to his darling Cumberland, mainly because people had got bored and flipped over channels before the end. Some say he’s dead, simple as. Others say they’ve seen him walking around town late at night, haunting the tescos car park looking pale as a zombie what only eats smoky bacon crisps. One bloke even said they saw him doing panto on southend. But if frank ever tells you that in person, don’t listen to him. coz he’s a Thick Cunt.
