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Hey, I got a new archive for you. It begins with "F", and this time it isn't
"The Friend Archive", nope, it's far from that. The Fudge Archive? Nope. The Fecal Matter Archive? Nope. The
Fray Bentos Pie Archive? Nope. How about, The Fat Archive? True, but still no. "Oh, come on Reece, tell us", OK, OK, it's
"The Fuck You Archive"! Yay! And why should you all be ashamed and fucking yourselves? Well, you ignorant bastards, you may
remember that on the last "article", as we like to call them, because we are so civilised around these parts, I clearly put
at the bottom of the..."article", that I would just like you to take one little precious second of your already pointless
lifes to send me a cute little e-mail saying "hey mimi just wanted 2 say that i replyd 2 tht ting u
put at the bottom of your article thnx for being so gr8!". As you can see, shit grammar and spelling helps you baboons. But
nooooooooo, we thought little Reece wouldn't care, "hey guys, let's not reply, he'll find it funny that no-one sent an e-mail
and then he'll write a little article about how he went to the seaside..." et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. Well, you know
what? I don't really care, in fact, I find it quite funny, but for a different reason. I find it funny because everyday that
counter at the bottom of the homepage goes up, so people do view the website, and secondly, I actually sent the link, with
my own seven hands to three of the people who read it, and I didn't even get an e-mail from them. I mean, call me "a bit"
over reacting, but even though I knew they did read it, the least they could fucking do was show some consideration. For Christ
sake, one of the people was there reading it with me and I didn't even get an e-mail from "him". I'll let this one go
over my three heads this time, but next time THE REECE ARCHIVE shall become obsolete, yeah, you heard me, O-B-S-O-L-E-T-E.
So yeah, don't mess with me. You probably don't even care, but you will. Oh you will. It'll eat away at you, slowly, and painfully
until you beg me for a new one and not even then shall I succumb to your pathetic needs. Oh no, ohhhhhhhhhh no...no...no.
Cheers Churchill!
But you, Mario, you big piece of shit, you can go fuck yourself.
I'm honestly scared of being taken down for copyright one of these
days, if someone from Nintendo somehow stumbles on this baron wasteland of shit jokes and random fucktaculars.
Yeah, well it's hard to think of a follow up to "The Pok'e'mon article".
It seems that I'm at my most funniest (I'm funny?) when taking the piss out of something/someone/somewhere/Jimmy Saville,
so I guess I better do that.
You may remember a while back I did an article on shit websites, "Cacko
McSpike the Bag of Shite" might refresh your memory, but I also did a "OMG, how sht iz this webby" for a website named...http://blossom.nu/x/.
You may remember this moaning cow, well today I shall rip the piss out of her just a little a bit more, hopefully. I pray
every night that she'll somehow stumble upon this website and take the piss out of it, I'd love that.
Well letza see whatza goin' on at that pile of shit...
...firewall...
...uh...
...awesome...
"So, busy busy times. I’m not even sure if I can remember everything
that happened last week, but I’ll give it a go."
Oh tell me about it, tell me about it. No actually, tell my good friend
Michael about it, yeah, shall we? Yeah go on. The other night, me, him and Mario went to a party and let's say that, Michael
got just a little bit..."tipsy". So here's a really "great" list of all the things he did:
- Walked into a glass window.
- Puked up into a bath, and then finished his puk-a-delic reign in the toilet.
- Talked in his native Scottish accent all night.
- Walked like a 30 stone Irish navvy who'd shit himself.
And there was something else, but I can't quite remember that one...
But yes, drifting off from the point (long time since I've seen one of them...OO
ER!), Blossom, you oily piece of annoyance.
"Since then, I’ve been chilling out - literally, our boiler broke and
keeps breaking in different ways. Well, that’s the official story, but the real version of events is that my dad’s
friend clearly can’t fix a boiler to save his life and needs to be slapped rather hard."
Oh yeah, all them different ways of boilers breaking down; Midlife Crisis
Breakdown, Anal Fistular Breakdown, "Too Far Tony" Breakdown, Yabba Breakdown and my favourite, "Am Scuttish, A can take ma
drink" Breakdown (we should all know about that one). And as for getting your Dad's friend to fix it...
I'm sure you do Jimmy, now back in the cupboard, it's 7pm and I'm hungry...
"Please note that my blogs are a reflection of my life and emotions and
may not be suitable for all ages. Therefore, you may wish to supervise younger children. The vast majority of the rest of
the site’s content is suitable for those aged eleven or older. I am not responsible for the suitability of content for
younger children."
Oh, bollocks love, The Reece Archive is child friendly and fun for all the family!
Don't we all kid's, don't we all. (That one on the far right scares me.
In all honesty, what is he trying to achieve?"
Aw, you'll never guess what? She's ("SHE" AS IN THAT PERSON THAT I'M TAKING
THE PISS OUT OF, Christ) from England. And just when I thought this floating piece shit we call "home"
couldn't get any worse. Well at least it's not as bad as that other floating piece of crap, Iceland. I mean, it rose out of
the sea about a month a go and then a load of Nordics or whatever sailed over in bathtubs and made up some language that sounds
like a fat guy being pulled backwards through a cheese grater. No, no, no, I love Iceland, ahhhhhhh...yep, tsch.
Oh wow, you can send her an e-mail asking her a question. I really want
to, but I'm not that stone cold harsh. But if you feel like it, you can send her one on my behalf, oh wait, you
don't know how to send e-mails, according to MY knowledge.
Looking back at the page title, I guess I'm the harsh one. The people I take the piss out of. Well they'll
probably never know.
Well it's being a pretty long article and nothing much has really happened,
a bit like that Shakespeare play, "Much Ado about Nothing". So on that note...
- "A glooming peace this morning with it brings;
- The sun for sorrow will not show his head.
- Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;
- Some shall be pardon'd, and some punishèd;
- For never was a story of more woe
- Than this of..."
THE REECE ARCHIVE, WAHEY!
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