Okay. Alright. It's about time I tear some bloody walls down, alright? Not all bogans are ferral as f**. It's about time you c*nts realise some of us are into the finer things like wine. That's right. No VB or West End for me, thank you very much. I'll stick to my 1985 Shiraz. It's full body; it's got a beautiful berry aroma; it's mellow with maturation, with just a hint of smokiness from the French oak; and, I find it just goes really well with just a hit on the gla**y. If you just smoke a little bit of meth with it. Get it rocking back and forth. That'll bring out those real chemical flavours that f** you the f** up.
I most probably write the sickest piano ballads. They just f**ing got the heaviest drop, man. Have a listen. You'll lose your sh**.
I think that's why, like, c*nts go to uni to study music, so they can learn to get through a piece without having a smoko. It's critical, you know.
'You see me here, you gods, a poor old man,
As full of grief as age; wretched in both
If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts
Against their father, fool me not so much
To bear it tamely'
f**ing Shakespeare. Shakespeare's this tripper c*nt who wrote these f**ing insane plays - these f**ing timeless plays - heaps of ages ago. And I'm playing King Lear in a stage production of... of it, because, uh, b**hes love the theatre. It makes their vaginas cry a little. That's a bit of poetry for you. Shakespeare did not say that. This c*nt said that.
I'm a bit of a romantic ba*tard. Um, I write beautiful songs to s*uts. Um, like this one here I wrote for some nice girls.
'We're driving back to my place, near the sand, near the city
Back with my new friends, it's like they are the one's
I'm the one, we're in love, but I paid to f** them'
That's a song I wrote about these two Asian hookers I f**ed in Thailand. Took them back to my hotel. Slammed them both, but they wanted me to keep changing dingers every time I swapped, so, you know, with them all night ended up being... well, basically ended up costing me more for condoms than the actual threesome. It was still a sick night though, ay.
I collect rare spoons. Rare spoons from history, and they're f**ing sick. You should see this one. It's from a banquet Queen Victoria held in 1887 for fifty of the world's kings and princes, so a lot of history there. And it's also the best one to f**ing cook h**n on because it's just a sick f**ing width of metal. Let's get this f**ing party started, already. I'll tell you what. I'm loving this whole cultured lifestyle; this whole open-mindedness thing. It really is my crack. Well, crack's my crack. This is my second crack.