And this is one example.

That literary turd we can’t seem to scrape from the bottom of our thong, Kathy Lette, has admitted – in the pages of London’s The Daily Mail, and on Australian morning television - to having had an affair with a married man. Now, I’m aware that there are some people who’d rather watch their own children slow grilled on a bed of live paederasts than see Kathy Lette talking, let alone to read her terrible writing, but blow me down if the piece in The Daily Mail didn’t feature scarcely a pun at all (well, maybe one or two, but that’s well down on Kathy’s usual high fre-pun-cy!). I have decided, then, to rewrite Kathy’s piece and publish it below, torturing the prose in the manner to which Kathy’s poor suffering words are accustomed. Enjoy…

It was way back in 1980, readers, when Kathy met some guy in a local gym whom she allowed to take her home for a bit of the old how’s your father. This was a guy who thought “weights” was what you had to endure before picking up a bit of skirt! In fact, that night he managed some 366 pounds! He also thought to “come” was a signal to “go”, because, after he came, he went!

Posted by: eddiebear at 09:59 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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