Blackrats Problem Page

Ok good people. I have been a bit remiss of late. I will get back to you all over the next few days and answer your questions. I'm also looking for female volunteers to model in "Blackrat's Photo Casebook". No previous experience needed but you must be comfortable in front of a camera. And a cock.
Is the photo shoot at a chicken farm or are you being your normal modest self?
 
Dear Blackrat,

I've just opened my work bag, like, here, at work, and I've just found an Argos pencil at the bottom of it. I must have used it when I ordered a new digital tv aerial for the caravan, but I forgot to put the pencil back in the little box full of Argos pencils.

I feel fucking awful now. I mean, stealing at my age!

I'm thinking of going to the police station soon to give myself up and admit that I'm nothing more than a miserable low-life who thinks nothing of taking property that does not belong to them.

It's no good, I can't go on. I cannot bear the feelings of guilt. I'm going to get in the car now and hand myself in, along with the Argos pencil.

I suppose this means that I'll go to prison now and get my bottom raped by some hulking brute called Wayne or Tyler.

Does it hurt much?

Yours Faithfully,

BillyTheThief
 

MaiBelle

Lantern Swinger
Dear Blackrat,

I've just opened my work bag, like, here, at work, and I've just found an Argos pencil at the bottom of it. I must have used it when I ordered a new digital tv aerial for the caravan, but I forgot to put the pencil back in the little box full of Argos pencils.

I feel ****ing awful now. I mean, stealing at my age!

I'm thinking of going to the police station soon to give myself up and admit that I'm nothing more than a miserable low-life who thinks nothing of taking property that does not belong to them.

It's no good, I can't go on. I cannot bear the feelings of guilt. I'm going to get in the car now and hand myself in, along with the Argos pencil.

I suppose this means that I'll go to prison now and get my bottom raped by some hulking brute called Wayne or Tyler.

Does it hurt much?

Yours Faithfully,

BillyTheThief
Never fear, by the time you get convicted prisons will have free wifi and laptops given out to prisoners so you'll be able to make your fortune writing a profitable blog about your bum-experiences etc :)
 
It was a cold and dark night,
There was no sun left in sight,
But i went for a drink,
He said 'i've been having a think',
And i really must ask,
Can i put it in your arse.

Now this proposition did raise my inquisition,
But i thought my lube is of an empty disposition,
Can it be done when the arse is in dry condition.

Well worry not it was all good,
Into the 'ole he could easily slip his wood,
This was as he had a small one,
Small in size even when its erecting was done,
but it was to be expected he was a marine engineer,
But perfectly acceptable after one beer
 
Dear Black Rat,

Where do I start? Well – it all began last week when me and the wife spent a day down Weston-Super-Mare. It was f***ing freezing but we were determined to enjoy ourselves on this nice day out. She drove us down there in her mothers Daewoo Matiz, which was an experience in itself.
It was round about half-ten in the morning, and after parking the car, we set about looking for some place to have a pot of tea and a full English….this can be a bit of a problem in December, what with all the tourists f***ing off home until the Summer.
Eventually, we came across an open café, manned by a load of Egyptian immigrants, so we ordered 2 x full English breakfasts and a pot of Earl Grey. Feeling brave, we both decided to “take the air†so to speak, and we sat at an aluminium table situated outside the café, just watching the world go by. There was another occupied table directly in front of us, at which sat four people. Now these four diners were…how shall I put this……..not full boxes of matches, or six spanners short of a complete tool-box. They had just been emptied out of a mini-bus with the logo *Wolverhampton Window Lickers World Tour 2009* emblazoned on the side, and their carer having carefully arranged them around the table was busily bringing trays of food back from inside the café. Our breakfasts arrived simultaneously and so me and the wife set about devouring the piping hot food…..but I could not take my eyes off the table opposite. Fortunately – it was behind my darling wife, so I could stare as much as I wanted to. My gaze fell upon a stunning female called “Florenceâ€â€¦.I knew this because it was written on a piece of paper in wax crayon, that had been stapled to her *I love Skegness* baseball cap.
She was deep in conversation with the other three, who were struggling to take the corks off the end of their forks whilst rocking backwards and forwards in a manic kind of way.
“MmmmmmmmmllllllllllllllllllaaaaRRRRrrrrrrrrrggghhhhhh !!â€, she said. This seemed to upset one of her fellow diners, and he yanked the cork from his piece of cutlery - unfortunately lost control of his arm and stuck the fork into the centre of his forehead. His two mates seemed to find this rather amusing, so they jammed their forks into his ears, leaving him yelping in pain and looking a bit like an indoor television aerial.
Everything settled down a bit, and I looked on in fascination as all four of them started to rampage through the breakfasts set out before them. I watched as Florence daintily set about demolishing her scran. Perhaps it was the way the baked-bean juice dribbled down the sides of her chins, or maybe it was the steaming globules of porridge that she had managed to stick to her eye-lids and the greasy chunks of black pudding protruding from her nostrils……I cannot be sure, but when she looked directly at me and screamed.
“EEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeMMlllaarrrrrrrrrr!!â€, and allowed a half chewed fried egg to tumble from her open mouth, slide down the front of her pink, green and purple tank top to land with a wet thwack on her Power Rangers track-suit bottoms – it was then I knew I was hopelessly in love. I only had eyes for Florence, and completely ignored her friends as they poured scalding hot mugs of Cadburys drinking chocolate into their eyes. Their table was a complete mess and Florence looked like she had just climbed out of a skip at the rear of some third rate Union Street Kebab shop. My eyes gazed lovingly into hers and I was about to say something when the carer hauled them all upright and herded them back on to the mini bus with the aid of a tazer he must have bought off the Internet. The mini-bus drove away down the street, and my last sight of Florence was as she stared out of the rear window, drawing patterns on the glass with a sausage and a handful of luke-warm fried tomatoes. I am desperately trying to find this lost love. I have tried various Social Networking Portals (www.Spakkers-Reunited.co.uk – www.DribblingFaceBook.com – and www.indowlickers.net), but sadly all to no avail.
I shall go mad and die of a broken heart if I cannot find my 22 stone, 3 feet 5 inch tall ginger haired soul mate, because she was driven away in a Toyota Granvia 3 litre MPV….and I f***ing want to get the head gasket and radiator out the f***ing thing so I can repair my own Japanese piece of shite before the 12th January 2010, when I’ve got to drive the wife down to Southampton.

Yours Aye,

Twatted Toyota owner of Tavistock.

X X X
The dating sites no good then ? Give Social Services a bash.They should have her records.
 

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