The Armoured Arsehole

The armoured arsehole gunned down ten rows of soiled pants as it trundled through piles and piles of piles littering the floor with a wanton disregard for cleanliness and hygiene as it went onwards eyes clacking like gun dog scrotum slapping crying buckets as it neared ceramic relief on large doses of carbon misery befell its sorry arse all metal clunk leaving the armoured arsehole rusty like weasels murdered all red in large pools of gooey shitty blood slowly congealing over the blue carpet awaiting loin cloth skiddies aimed with fruit flan vigour vigour vigourish in toon pastry run rabbit to thinners and tunnels laced with the razor pond scapula in lemon souffle in a gondola pissed and being furiously sucked off she ran bras rolling with hot fingers then flashing back to reveal skulking shapes in the distance which when viewed with neon binoculars shows the harsh and translucent shape of a large rusty armoured arsehole trundling slowly through a vomit napalm web of insular and cellular decrepidness

What a brave man he was
General iron lung
Fighting for his country
Murdering all who stood in his way

He could nuke a village before breakfast
And still have time for tea
Dropping napalm made him hard
Something his wife could never achieve

What a brave man he was
General iron lung
What a brave man he was
General iron lung
What a brave man he was
General iron lung
What a brave man he was
General iron lung


This abstract cut-up consists of 2 pieces of prose, and a section from a song I have written all of which were created in summer 1999.

One of the pieces of prose that was used for this particular abstract cut-up has already been used in a previous abstract cut-up, hence the familiar repetition of certain phrases within the piece.

                                                                                                             By Spartacus Mole