Droning on...and on...and on...and on...and on...
Lies, Lies, and more damned lies...
HAMISH DIXON'S DIARY
Tuesday, December 21, 2004

TOUGH LOVE FROM BIG-EARS'S 'ER INDOORS

Rory was carted off screaming like a baby after I crushed his foot, and Camilla punished me by shoving me into the shower and hosing me down with ice-cold water.

"Is that any way to treat your only son?" she said.

"I disown him," I said. "He's an effete little faggot."

"For a man who currently has no penis, Hamish," said the royal floozie, "I must say you've got quite a nerve." She blew more Benson & Hedges smoke into my face. "Anyway, you'd better watch your step. HRH has gone off back to London to deal with the misbehavior of that vile brat Prince Barry, and he was the only reason I haven't already pulled out all your finger nails."




Sunday, December 19, 2004

FILIAL DUTY

Rory tracked down where I was being held the other day and came knocking on the door. He managed to penetrate Chateau Big-Ears all the way to the leather-lined "entertainment" room where they keep me loosely manacled to the wall.

"Hi Dad," he said, with all the originality I have come to expect of my barely present son.

"Rory, old boy," I said, "Thank heaven you're here. How are we going to get out?"

"I've come with some papers for you to sign, Dad," he said, looking straight through me.

"I'm not signing anything," I said.

Rory pressed a button on the wall and Slobbo came in and hit my foot with a sledge hammer. I shat myself and passed out.




and on...and on...and on...and on

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