Linda /Paul Hurwood

 

From the Orifice Of The Playpen

 
Evening Freaks and Geeks, and welcome to a highly pissed off Letter from the Orifice.

You see this month on the (w)hole has been pretty fuckin good… you know a nice easy week off at the start relaxed and chilled to the max. We get ourselves hooked up with broadband Internet… looking even better and then it’s back to work. I should have seen the writing on the fuckin wall there and then.

From the day I went back to work things started to go down hill. I ended my week off starting flair up of the old Acne (why I am taking all these freaking drugs to control the Acne is beyond me they don’t fuckin work and just make me irritable and PISSED)…I digress. I erupt into many little mounds of… OK I know you don’t want to know… but needless to say they were painful and caused much misery. Once I got that sorted and dealt with it’s almost the end of the month, which aint so bad because we got our last bank holiday of the summer this past week so that was nice. Yet another long weekend off and we’re taking it easy again and relaxing.

Enjoying our day off we’re getting some household shit done. And at some point we notice that the Gate in our Garden is open… No real biggie probably the wind or local kids kicking a ball against it. We thought no more of it. Back to work on Tuesday and all is fine… well as fine as it can be back at work, I call home to make sure everything is OK and Linda asks.
“Where did you move the booze too?”
“I didn’t move it anywhere” replies I.
“Are you sure”?
“Yes I am pretty sure I didn’t move the 6 bottles of Hard Liquor from behind the fridge”
“THEY’RE GONE”

MY heart sank and it dawned on me in a split second that it wasn’t the wind or any kids kicking a ball, some scumbag fucker had walked in off the street and ripped us off. They took all the good stuff. The Litre bottles of Bacardi Rum Jack Daniels Vodka Generic Bourbon (that tasted just like jack) and Linda’s pride and joy Bacardi 151 Rum and they took a bottle of wine we think… I may have drunk it at some point who can tell these days.

Anyway the last 30 minutes of my shift at work and the twenty-minute bus ride home the only words that ran through my head are:

“I am going to rip some fuckers head right off and then I am going to piss and crap down their neck. When I am finished I may poke out his eyes and use it’s worthless empty head as a plant holder. I have some nice Horse shit I need to use to grow my roses”

Ok maybe I didn’t think all that at once but almost every line there is what went through my head. Basically I wanted to rip some fuckers head off

What makes this all so strange and even more unnerving is that both Linda and I sat in the next room whilst we were being ripped off. Neither of us heard a thing and we were oblivious to the fact until over 24 hours later. I spent most of this last Wednesday waiting for the police to show up to take a statement and after they attempted to do their little bit of police work I decided that with that level of security on the street I wasn’t leaving the fucking house and I called off work.

The bastard had got to my head. I was frightened to leave my own home. The police don’t hold out much hope of getting anything back and as I have been told so many times this week at least no one was hurt and you can always buy more Jack… all of this is true.
BUT SOME FUCKER CAME INTO MY HOUSE AND STOLE MY SHIT.

I swear if I get hold of him. I’ll make the shit drink a whole bottle of 151 in one gulp without breathing. Linda won’t be pleased but it’ll teach that runt not to fuck with people’s heads… especially those of us who are a little twisted.

Ok that’s the rant over with.

Can you guys believe it’s September already. What’s happened to 03? It seems to have flown by. It will soon be Christmas and we’ll be running around like blue arsed flies just to get ready. And people will be bitching at me for writing XMAS over Christmas. Happens every year so this one won’t be any different.

The British Postal service will soon be on strike. Apparently they can’t survive on £260 a week; hell I wish I made £200 a week without overtime. Some people are never happy with doing their jobs having a smoke and a wank and getting the fuck on with life.

Whelp that’s about it from us this month. I hope all you fellas out there were pulling your puds to save yourselves from Prostate cancer…aren’t you just so glad
I told you about that?

There hasn’t been a great deal of change over at www.phurwood.co.uk this month no time but look for updates soon.

Until next time… Keep your cuffs on the bedpost and your eye on the door.
All the best with Whips and Spanks

Linda and Paul

 

• visit Linda & Paul's "in the playpen" at the-hold.com •

 

linda hurwood

meet Linda Hurwood, also known as
Min. click here and see why she's known as

the rubenesque woman

I was born Linda Sue DeZarn to a couple with four other living children. Our family was poor as far as money went but we were rich because we had love and each other. I am now 47, mother of two daughter's and proud grandmother of six beautiful grandmonsters; the four oldest being boys and the babies are both girls (took long enuff for the girls to show their pretty faces).

I met Paul Hurwood (aka miskin) online in Excite's Virtual Places (where I also met Cait) in a chat room called Ninian's Poetry Cafe. Had it not been for some of the people in that room I would not be here today. I have led a long hard life most of which can be read in my writings.

 

 
Linda's Poetry Pages

• Dedicated to the man of my dreams

by Miskin for Linda
• Stronger Than Steel
• In Honour

 

 

 

 

Linda

 

paul hurwood

Hi there folks. My name is Paul, and I have vital statistics that resemble the national debt of several third world countries combined. As you probably know Linda is my wife and you know the story so I won’t bore you all with it again.
In the words of Joshua one of the grand monsters “I AM A FREAK” and pretty much proud of it too.
I will try pretty much anything once and if I like it or it’s bad for me I will probably try it a couple more times just to make sure. I don’t like to take things to seriously, life is way too short.
Art wise I pretty much like anything that pushes the boundaries of either taste or experimental. My main passion is Old Time Radio, it helps to stimulate the brain and gets you thinking again.

I do occasionally write poetry but I am not a perfectionist. I write what comes into my mind and just see what happens. I think that this the honest way of writing. If it doesn’t make sense it's no biggie as far as I am concerned.
My influences come from all over the place… I get moods from Pink Floyd or whatever is playing on my cd player at the time and the Goons… a wonderfully anarchic mix of surrealism and comedy… if you get the chance try them out.

In closing I want to tell you my motto in life. It’s really simple and when things go wrong and you’re not sure what to do….

FUCK IT

The translation is down to you.

Keep your eyes on the door and the cuffs on the bedpost

Paul

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