With the novelty cake season so nearly upon us, with the spate of birthdays,
funerals that the latter half of November brings, we all must make plans.
Urinal cakes eh? Or should I say urinal cake cakes to avoid either
confusion. Imagine the delight on a young orphaned child's face when he sees
a yellow cake brought out to him, a marzipan cigarette butt lying to one
corner, and perhaps a solitary strand of spun sugar representing the pubic
hair belonging to the person who is incapable of draining his bladder
without shedding. Oh oh hoh, nooo, ignore the marzipan fag butt; get your
candle-making friend (and if you don't have a friend who makes candles I
don't know what you're doing reading this when you could be out making
friends with candlemakers) to make you a load of candles that look like
squashed, smoked, urine-soaked cigarettes. Freakin genius. Picture the
scene. Close your eyes. See it? Rocks, don't it?
And the women pipe up with requests for information. A mother explains the
situation to her young daughter: "Urinals are an invention created by our
misogynist oppressors, who aim to keep us suppressed by never hesitating in
showing off their ability to urinate whilst standing. A urinal cake is a
little round yellow bar of soap that is placed in the urinal to mask the
smell of stale urine when the urinal gets blocked up with chewing gum and
the floor quickly becomes flooded. A urinal cake cake is a cake in the shape
of a urinal cake, but I'm sure you gathered that already being the smart
little girl that you are."
"But I can pee standing up, mommy. I don't even make a mess any more," she
replies.
"Yes I know you can dear, but you're special, and better than all the other
little girls. Now shut up and cut me a slice; I haven't eaten since the
cream buns were passed out."
"But mommy, I'm not allowed to use knives, and anyway the cake is for after
the cremation."
"Shut up Chlamydia dearest and cut me a slice. No-one will notice."
El scenos similare upe e downe el countria. Some wag even goes so far as to
set up a company that offers real urinal cakes the size of urinal cake cakes
for substitution at partays that need spicing up. Only two orders, his
business fails, he kills some passing children 'because we are too menny',
is so caught up in his debt that he forgets to kill himself, is caught,
tried and killed. The only casualty in an otherwise thriving, rampant
industry. I say only casualty, but that is, of course a complete lie: the
little girl managed to cut the her thumb off, and ended up going through
life feeling half evolved. She also sets up a business which fails, this
time truer to form, her son kills their younger children, but the reason
given is 'because they dribbled on my toyys', and then hangs himself. Her
and her husband with the girly name are understandably upset and cry, but
then go to the funeral and have a nice slice of urinal cake cake and learn
to smile again. Swings and roundabouts really; like sellotaping sandpaper on
your skis, you've gotta take the rough with the smooth. I know it's not
about you, but it's retarded shit and you asked for that.