I guess if one owns a foof it gives some legitimacy in commenting on another's!
Being foofless I cannot comment further.
I guess if one owns a foof it gives some legitimacy in commenting on another's!
Trouble is an Essence du Cocque Goblin candle would probably smell like an Abbo's arse and nobody would buy it, particularly after a bloke called Slasher wrote about me nethers!
TheGreenGoblin wrote: ↑Mon Jan 20, 2020 2:38 pmparticularly after a bloke called Slasher wrote about me nethers!
Now a Chateau de Cocque Goblin might just make the list of good Aussie wines...
THE GUARDIAN
What’s so special about The Green
Goblin’s penis? Absolutely nothing!
Rod KF
20 January 2020
With the recent abject failure of the Essence de la Cocque du Goblín (he couldn’t even get the French right!) Mr Goblin has embarked now on a Chateau wine which supposedly produces
an aroma of his nethers. Critics have already given it a thumbs down and describe it as a collection of smells including that of
a scouser’s jock strap and flyblown cheese. Reportly produced
in the Stellenbosch wine region, top sources there say nay.
But apart from that what’s special about Mr Goblin’s testicular penilery anyway? What is it that he feels there is a market for
its olfactory value? So this reporter went along to his modest
home to find out.
To be honest it really doesn’t look too bad for its age. A slight crinkling and it appears to have seen some combat action. Of this Mr Goblin declined to discuss with me. Overall...his dong
was not overly impressive upon first viewing and his danglies
did indeed dangle for quite some distance downwards. If I was
gay I’d probably in time learn to like it. As a sculptor I’d most
likely learn ways to appreciate it.
Mr Goblin’s penis. A wholly unremarkable instrument.
The sniff examination was marginal at best. It was obvious he
had raided his partner’s perfume chest prior to this interview much as the Gwyneth Paltrow had done when her foofery was similarly examined (I haven’t sniffed Ms Paltrow’s vagina but if you’ve sniffed one snatch in my opinion you’ve sniffed ‘em all).
It was at this point that Mr Goblin asked his partner to bring out
his latest underpant contribution to the laundry hamper.
Now the truth was revealed. From over four metres away the smell threw me into such an ague, similar to what that trader endured as he was stirring his soup in Shakespeare’s Merchant
of Venice. I was visibly shaken and felt quite stressed. Mr Goblin then arose from his seat, fished out his deplorable undies, and donned them. He asked me to then do the test olfactorily from five centimtres distance.
I could not. One overwhelming whiff from still over four metres away was enough to cause even the most hardened underground sewerage worker to cry like a little girl in agony.
It is Mr Goblin’s underwear that creates the vaunted aroma.
It would not be beyond anyone’s credence that he simply squashes grapes out the back with his feet and sluices the
juices through his used undies into the bottles.
I suppose I can close in saying that Mr Goblin might have a
wine market along Sydney’s Oxford Street for the aroma of
his used underwear, but as for his naughty bits I say...good
luck with that!
The writer is an independent author and does not necessarily represent the views of The Guardian, but in this case...it does!
Further, I will have no hesitation in apologising to him personally, in whatever manner and location he, or his lawyers, deem fit.THE GUARDIAN
Public Notices:
23 January 2020
All right, all right, I apologise. I’m
really sorry! I’m really really sorry,
I apologise unreservedly and take it
back. I offer a complete and utter
retraction. The imputation was totally
without basis in fact, and was in no
way fair comment, and was motivated
purely by malice, and I deeply regret
any distress that my comments may
have caused you, or your family, and I
hereby undertake not to repeat any
such slander at any time in the future.
- Rod KF (author of the offending article
published 20 January 2020