We don't bite…unless you're into that sort of thing


N*ggas In Bookshops

“Girl I met a new man. Imagine he reads books! Awesome right?”

I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard this line. A girlfriend excitedly calling me because she’s found a man who is actually literate. Like he’s read Game of Thrones and they’re talking about it now and speculating on what they’re going to do in season 5. This girl’s panties are dripping wet because she’s found a dildo with eyes. Oh my goodness I have been this person.

Let me tell you something ladies, we need to stop this shit right now.

It is great when you do find a man who reads. There are millions of articles about this, poetry even. Some of them are just so obviously written by some white woman in an obscure part of America who has blown up pictures from the Humans of New York Africa tour and stuck them on her wall “to remind her every day that she is so blessed.” Unless there’s some line about how “the first glimpse he caught of you was your Afya Centre-green thong as you bent to pick a book” I’m not sure we’re the target audience.  But you know its cute, right? Its an amazing thing to be able to discuss literature and writing styles with someone you’re really into, or even to walk into his room and find a bookshelf instead of a giant bottle of whisky that him and 8 of his friends share custody of.

However I’m telling you this is no longer an effective method of picking a mate. It may have been back then but now these men know. You google “why you should date a man who reads” and 1.3 billion results pop up. OF COURSE THEY ARE ONTO US. And I don’t know what’s more disappointing, how slick they think they are now that they know or how effective they are at convincing women that they are slick.

As an avid reader I am THRILLED that on almost every street corner there’s a book vendor these days. But as I have been taught on several occasions, men don’t like it when women have nice things. (No? Go ahead and a post a picture of any hot man on your social networks and just wait for every Mark from Masaku to hop into your mentions with a bottle of water like you asked for it. Who the fuck told you I needed your seal of approval on what I should lust over? Please, son be gone.)

you dont have permission


But I digress. So you’ve gone on your Tumblr and told your feminist friends how there’s nothing more you’d love than to stay indoors and have coffee with your boo as you talk about the themes in Paulo Coelho’s books (spoiler alert: the main theme in all of them is sleep and how fast you can achieve it) and Pinterested stealth shots of men reading books or browsing in book stores. I get all that, I do it too. But these men have eyes. They will hate on those books as much as they want but there are a lot of hot women just squatting and kneeling around in the CBD just looking for books. To be honest it gets a little bit obscene at times, just wiggly jiggly bits in the air! Its enough to get anyone confused.

So Mark from Masaku is back on duty, patrolling the streets for women to just say hi to what’s the big deal why you gotta be such a bitch you just smile back you’re much prettier when you smile harass and there you are with your face down and your ass up. Of course you do not notice this predator in your midst because you’re just looking for a good book to read. But somehow you look up and there’s this guy holding the last book you touched. Then he asks you if its any good and because all the men you have encountered were scraped from the bottom of the barrel, Mark is now Marcello, distinguished gentleman and book connoisseur.  You mean all he has to do is pick up a book? And you? What have you done? You’ve spent hours in the mirror plucking and pulling at your features because of this or that standard of beauty while all he did was buy a copy of the Stephen King novel you read in primary school? Then when you’re together you have to dumb yourself down to discuss his dull opinions on it?! No, madam. NO.

Bitch so what if he reads? WHAT is he reading? Not all books are good or worth your time. “But he reads manga though” might cut it with some of you and it could be the feminism talking but most of them are really just misogynistic garbage so I don’t count it as literature. That could be just me.

The fact that there is a guy in a bookshop should not be treated like its some Nat Geo event that must be documented for all of womankind to see. He has not come from outer space. He is just LITERATE. I understand that literacy is a privilege that I get to enjoy and maybe some of my opinions might not be all-inclusive to those who are dyslexic or any other reading disorders which I apologize for. However that’s like 17-20% of the population, meaning roughly 3 out of every 5 of you bastards have no excuse. Do not put that man on a pedestal unless he is one of those people who struggle every day with their disorders, and even then do not make him a god. Why are you settling? You have the power to bring nations to their knees but instead you’re texting your girls ALL DAY about a man who took 3 and a half weeks to read a 230 page book? Shut up.






Ice Buckets and ALS

As it turns out, I got roped into the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge. I suppose it was bound to happen eventually.

There’s been a lot of talk about wasting water in relation to this. I’ve seen it all over my TL and I think it’s a fair complaint. On the other hand, I don’t think this campaign could have been quite as succesful without the “gimmick.” So I tried to find some sort of middle ground.

I did my challenge next to a pool so most of the water would go back in anyway.  And I will be doing a double donation with one of those going to The Water Project: Wells for Kenya. 

Enough chit chat. Here’s the video

Late Night Decisions

If it’s past midnight, get off the internet. Take my word for it. Nothing good will come of being on the internet when the witching hour strikes. Only disaster awaits you. You have been warned.

I know this because last night I was on the internet at 3 AM. I was tired. So tired that the only real movements I was making were scrolling through OLX free classifieds which, when you think about it, is the only way to truly go window shopping at that hour. Why I thought late night window shopping, online or off, was a good idea is a concept whose root can easily be traced back to I WAS ON THE INTERNET PAST MIDNIGHT.

Lets compile the ingredients making up the “how did I get myself into this” recipe.

1. I was tired.

2. I’m impulsive and easily impressed when I’m sleepy.

3. The curse that strikes late night net denizens foolish enough to go against it.

Stir it together and let it simmer.

Long story short…I bought two rabbits.

One moment I was looking at electronics and then I blinked and found myself marveling at the idea of rabbits being sold online. Then looking at the prices and going, this is fairly affordable. I’ll take one. No no no i’ll take two, so the first one doesn’t get lonely. And then, worst of all, I was dialing a complete stranger and asking for my rabbits.

Well. Technically I didn’t buy them. I booked them. But if you wake someone up at 3 AM for a barely intelligible conversation demanding rabbits you’re honor bound to actually buy the damn things. I believe he would legally be allowed to kill me if I didn’t buy them after that. It’s in the constitution. No really. Read it. It’s surprisingly in depth about rabbit sale etiquette.

So I bought two rabbits.

You know what I’ve learnt from owning rabbits (that I don’t have yet.) It sucks being the only one with rabbits. So I shall challenge you all to buy your own.

Why would you do that you ask? So we can all train them and have a rabbit race (that I will crush you all in). You heard me. I’m saying my rabbits, Malcolm X (The black one) and Iggy Azelia (The.. this doesn’t actually need any clarification), can beat your rabbits.

If you feel threatened by this utterly meaningless challenge then GAME ON. You’re my kind of person. The rabbit race is on. Train the little bastards.

PS: If one of you has a tortoise bring it to the race. I want to test their supposed intelligence that we all heard so much about as kids.

Later Freaks

DNFTB Podcast Pilot: A Study Of Porn

DNFTB Podcast logo

You hoped we were dead! Gone with the wind! Away on a magic carpet ride to oblivion! But you were wrong!

We were just plotting and biding our time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to release this auditory orgasm in your unworthy ears!

Listen to the first episode of the DNFTB podcast as Kevin the Penguin Master, resident advice columnist Auntie Liv and all-around perv Aggrey reminisce about the struggle of dial-up porn consumption and reveal exactly where to find our various porn stashes. And to top it off, we also solve the age old mystery of the Share button on streaming sites.

Abandon decency all ye who enter here!

One Person’s Dead Is Another Person’s Love

Do not look at me as a prophet of doom for the words I’m about to say. Rather, I reveal the deep truths that we refuse to admit even to ourselves.

SCIENCE HAS FAILED US! How you might ask? Simple. We don’t have robot sex dolls.

I would be more than justified in using this space to bemoan the pathetic state of our sciences and our scholars and our technology, but I’m just not that kind of guy. I’m the kind of guy who thinks beyond his present circumstances and tries to solve the problems that he’s presented with. And there’s only one obvious solution to this dire situation: Necrophilia.

It really is the perfect blend of human contact without the inconvenience of human interaction. Our techniques of human preservation mean that bodies can be maintained in pristine condition after death for a long time. And all it’ll take to get corpses flexible again after rigor mortis is a few strategically placed metal joints. And if you think that is impossible, think of the artificial joints surgeries all over the world that replace knees, elbows and hips. It’s only a small step to doing the same to the dead. It’ll actually be cheaper since you don’t have to worry about anaesthesia and quality of (after)life.

And for all those with petty moral concerns, GET OVER YOURSELVES! You want to deny hundreds of people the joys of having a human sex partner with no demands of their own! What kind of monsters are you!? Yes the partners might be dead, but that’s better than the nothing that those people currently have. It’s not like these corpses will be diverted from some critical function. In fact, we’d actually be using them to bring even more happiness to the world. And I’m sure that if it’s one thing our loved ones would like to know they brought to this world even after their passing, it’s happiness.

Don’t bury or cremate your loved ones. Instead, donate their body to that sexless friend or frustrated who you know could use some good lovin’. In the immortal words of Michael Jackson, you’ll be doing your part to heal the world, to make it a better place for you and for me and the entire human race.


To World Domination

If you’ve spent some time on this blog then you probably know that the end goal is world domination. What might surprise you however is how long this plan has been in motion. See, when I was a kid we had a giant picture of Jomo Kenyatta, Kenya’s first president, hanging somewhere. Kenyans know the one. The iconic image with the fly whisk.

Now I didn’t know who he was exactly and I certainly didn’t know he was dead at the time. But, because I was a stubborn child who refused to ask questions when I could make my own (horribly uninformed) conclusions, I decided he was the world ruler. Why else would we have a picture of him? Solid reasoning, right? And in a moment of childlike confidence I declared that I would take his job. It was a vow I took very seriously as you can see:

Your king has arrived

Your king has arrived

As it turned out the entire office of world ruler was unoccupied so (sadly) I don’t have to unseat anybody. But (again, sadly) I do need you people to actually get the office. Dictatorship ain’t what it used to be. So i (not really) humbly come bearing gifts.


Look at the hope in that child’s eyes. Do you want to crush it? Are you trying to get in the way of that dream? Do you dance in a field upon the forgotten corpses of children’s hopes?

If not then support our domination. Vote for us here.



In case you’re a heartless bastard and you’re not swayed by any of that then consider this. You, our readers are coming with us. When we establish our class system, you’ll be the party members, the aristocracy, the Shogun, the Brahmin etc.

If you want to bathe in the tears of your enemies, Vote here.



In case guilt or the promise of power aren’t your cup of tea, consider this. We know how you got here. You heard me. We know what you were googling that somehow landed you on this site.

Be it your strange desire to see cartoons misbehaving

-Marvel comics sex

-thumbellina frogo porn

-spongebob flipping off

Or you were accidentally trying to find Vaseline.com (which raises the questions. Why? How did that even lead you here? And Why? Bulk purchase?)

Or the 69 (har har) of you that were looking for a man in a diaper

We know! And if you don’t vote for us. Well…I trust you’ll do the right thing

PS: I really wish I was making up those stats. And those are the tame ones. I love you dear readers, but y’all are messed up people. Which is why you should support your own. Do not feed the bloggers for best creative writing blog. We promise really useful corruption.



I have a very…interesting story to tell you, children. Gather around and let me amuse you with the shenanigans of this place of mine that I live in.

We had a drug bust at my complex, and it was really amusing. (By it I mean all the shit that happened during said drug bust.)

Now, as you all know but don’t understand, I love this place that we stay at. My man and I are the only people considered sane since we never involve ourselves in the extra-ordinary ratchetness that goes on here a lot more often than it should. (Our new roomie, for instance has decided to share any and all STI he possibly can in any way he possibly can during this most righteous time of lent. Yesterday for example, he was walking around nude from the waist down asking people to help him burst the millions of pockets of puss in and around his nether regions. Think he had some up his bum as well. I’m sure even an andrologist would be apprehensive to check out whatever disease(s) he’s suffering from).  The stupidity that happens here is quite entertaining on most days, as long as nobody bothers to involve us. On the days that they do, I take it upon myself to show them the repercussions of having little to no self-preservation and why it’s a bad thing. Some people have ended up in hospital during my more…violent moments, but that’s a story for another day, no? *smiles sweetly*

Alas, I digress. The drug bust. We had one. It was really awesome, and kinda dramatic, but it will end up pretty anti-climatic. The disadvantages of having a country that banned the death penalty. *sigh* This is where Malaysia stays winning.

So, the chic two flats above us (Colombian, by the way. She looks like something out of a porn movie really: big boobs, big bum, perfect hair and make-up, barely any clothes on, etc etc. She even had that accent thing going on, where she’d give dudes boners by just talking) was selling drugs. All the hard core stuff: crack cocaine, heroin, crystal meth, morphine, the really refined form of LSD, and the likes. She hid them in the cracks on the walls, under the skirting board, in the ceiling, in the herb garden (and no, it’s not weed that’s grown there), in her mattress and other such creative parts. The thing is, nobody knew. She was social as everyone else, never had ridiculous amounts of money from outta nowhere, she never abused any of that shit, just sold it. But she never sold it to anyone in the complex, which was pretty smart.

So anyway, Jupiter and I are misbehaving on the couch when suddenly we have the Queensland Police, AFP (Aussie Fed Police), Immigration and guys from the drug department sprinting around, busting into houses and demanding that everyone gets the fuck out. So this cop nearly breaks down our door and nearly gives me a heart attack then proceeds to (rudely) stare at me in my state of undress instead of saying whatever the fuck he wants to say. I donno who was more irritated, Jupiter or myself, though my irritation was brought about by embarrassment.

Our Colombian is arrested, (along with the guy she was entertaining. As in the cops walked in on them when she was giving him head and he was in the middle of his orgasm, since when they came out she had some of his nether fluids around her mouth and he was…well, spilling them out. XD The cops are asking them questions and the poor boy is so terrified he proceeds to start crying and one of the cops goes like “Are those tears part of your orgasm?! Jesus…have you never had sex before? How the hell do you cry during an orgasm?!” Then they turn to question the chic and she can’t answer anything, when one of the cops realises she still has this dude’s semen in her mouth. So the cop [a lady who probably doesn’t get laid much] snaps “Are you gonna swallow that shit or spit it out, because you are going to answer my questions, brat.” She then proceeds to like gulp it down and in my head I’m wondering kwani she was storing it in her mouth for a later time or something?  XD) and the cops get into her apartment to check it out. (She was living alone. I donno how many sessions of disturbing, yucky sex she had with the cunt that’s my landlord. This is a guy who has the potential to traumatise even Aggrey. He really needs to be locked up in an asylum. He’s very disturbed) and man, they are coming out with like 30 250g bags of EACH of these drugs. As in 30 250g bags of crack cocaine, 30 250g bags of crystal meth, 30 250g bags of the LSD, and those drip bags of the hospital, like 6 of them full of morphine. And when I took a peek into the apartment, it had been systematically pulled apart. The ceiling was cut at the corners on one corner, there was no skirting board anymore, the walls had been chipped apart…heh, it took them like 12 or so hours to get everything, since they began their operation at about 10pm and when I woke up the next day at about 9 they were still there, questioning everyone. Kwanza one of them tried to question me and I pulled the racism card out so fast he promptly apologised and proceeded to go look for someone else to bully. Ain’t nobody gat no tahm for that.

I remember how guys freaked out though, and it was hilarious. Someone actually jumped out of the balcony into the pool because of how the cops were bursting in. There was also an orgy going on in another room, I understand (to which the landlord was peeking at through the window and probably fapping to. See? I told you this guy has serious mental problems). As in people were being chucked from the house in the middle of their showers. Hilarious shit.

So, to summarise, this chic will be charged, very probably found guilty and receive life imprisonment. Moral of the story, don’t give people head in the place you’re stashed your stash. You may get caught and people like me will blog about it.

Peace, from Down Under.


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