Poor Peter Jones: The Book then nothing. How beautiful: a seven word
sentence, five of whose words begin with a capital letter. If I were Peter
Jones (not the real Peter Jones but the David Copperfield Peter Jones who
doesn't exist) then I'd be a rapper. Not a real new-sentence rapper, but one
of those rappers who finishes off the sentences of other rappers, y'know
with them. Observe: Yadda yadda yadda rhyme, yadda yadda yadda rhyme. The
one who just joins in on the second rhyme and doesn't do a damn thing else
except suck the big rappers cock (not the rappers big cock) backstage. I'd
not do that, of course, cos I'd be so fucking superb at joining in on the
second rhyme that I'd not need to compromise my sexuality for some
stupid-donkey rapper who needed some other fucker to join in with him to
make sure his rhymey sentences stayed rhymey and sentencey. Wanted: cunt to
say one word in case other rapper cunt can't finish simple misogynistic
sentence. Found: one cunt to do aforementioned wanted thing, with attitude.
Attitude. Peter Jones had it, rappers had it. Attitude's what makes the
world go round, although gravity and all that astrophysics shit does play a
part. Attitude's just a state of mind, just as Mississippi's just a state of
America and. So they say you don't have to be The Book to be Peter Jones,
nor do you have to be some stupid retarded cunt-arse rapper who just joins
in at the end to work here but it helps. That's one long-ass sign, almost as
long as the sign which says "This is one goddamn motherfucking
suckcuntshitfuckwankpissarse sign and there's not a goddamn motherfucking
soppycuntpisslickpisswilly thing you can do about it unless you say please."
And that's a lot like rappers who just say the last word of rhymes, y'see,
because they just join in on the last word because they're talentless cunts
who ride the shitstainedshirttails of those with slightly more talent, and
are just about able to speak. Dear rappers, you suck. West coast, east
coast, all your fucking arses suck, and I'd bust a cap in them soon as
understand the difference between bullet and hat. Consider that a death
threat for as long as it suits me, but when there's even the faintest
possibility that you're gonna bust a bulletcap in my ass - unlikely, you
fucking pussies - then I'll just walk away and if you bust a bulletcap in my
fucking ass then I'll bust two fucking bulletcaps in your fucking ass, you
fucking pussies.
So here's the thing: who the fuck's Peter Jones and why the fuck did he
never do anything beyond the book? So here's the other thing: why the fuck
do these eminently talented rappers put up with these
shiteatingshirttaillickers who just say the last rhymey word of their
sentences? Two questions, each equally pointful, each equally likely to
provide the answer to life, the unicycle and evolution. Equally as in not.
You know what I'd like to do more than anything? You really know what'd mean
more than anything anyone could do or not do? I'd like just to sleep. That'd
be more beautiful than anything any The Book, any second rhyme, any
wonderful wonderful friend could do. I'd like to sleep, whether for 12 hours
or forever. Anything's fine by me as long as it includes sleep. Goodnight
all.