My Twitter was inundated with people going batshit over the not-breakup of the spindly, hairless boyband One Direction. I was busy slamming some bird and generally having a life when this all went down, but after a certain Style of man got in touch with me asking for advice, I decided to take on your burning questions over the events of five lads lives that you have played no part in, but apparently feel emotionally attached to for some stupid reason. You fucking losers.
Recently my inbox has been inundated with requests for help from what some people would describe as 'celebrities'. As I don't watch any television or read anything apart from Wikipedia, I had no clue who these cunts were. It was pointed out to me by some blonde piece I had just larrupped one into. She said “Wow Bob, you have an email from Perrie Edwards! She's famous!”. I know what you're thinking, and yes, Bob is one of the fake names I use. Also, I don't know who the fuck Perrie Edwards is either. For starters he has spelled his name wrong!
Anyway, after I chucked that bird out of the Travelodge room for looking at my phone, I checked my emails to find literally tens of these cunts-- err, 'celebrities', had emailed me. Here for you delectation, is the Ask Jary Celebrity Special!
What's happening losers? You know what I realised earlier in the week? There is no such thing as too much shagging. I was shagging a bird last week and while I was doing it, all I could think was how much I couldn't wait to shag my missus later on. I know I've never mentioned her before, but my missus Tray is a game old bird. Well, she looks like a pheasant anyway.
Welcome shaggers and shaggees, it's that time again where I answer your desperate cries for help/attention.
This week, I was inundated with various rope burn and broken cable tie issues. That means only one thing; Fifty Shades of Grey is out at the pictures. Now as I have documented here, I am not a fan of that bulbous pile of piss poor soft porn. So, I threw all of those fucking hack letters in the bin, along with nine copies of Fifty Shades of Plagiarism and a copy of The Stand. That last one may seem confusing, and I can understand why. It confused me too, it wasn't about a night-stand that was next to a bed where loads of shagging went down; it was a fucking horror book! I was glad in a way, it meant I didn't have to write about how I hated Steven King, because the night-stand book was my idea first!
Pictured: Bare good book
Anyway, on to the letters. Hit the 'read more' button, you numpty.
I don't know if you remember our previous site. It was wank to be fair, but I wrote some class blogs on there. One thing I am known for is helping cunts out. Especially when it comes to matters of the genitals. Fortunately my post sack is the opposite of my nutsack. Full! So, after the jump, let's get down to business!
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