Honestly, you’ve known a chap for years, you think you know what he stands for, and then you find out something about him which calls into question your faith in humanity.
My mate Bill is a straight-up, regular bloke: he enjoys a beer, has an awesome music collection, and likes to watch sport. An all-round, down-to-earth chap.
Yesterday evening, however, at a barbecue in his garden, Bill revealed himself to be a closet sausage artist:
Bill's sausage art: A Congregation of Hoodies (2009)
(sausage grease and charcoal on paper plate)
What else aren’t you telling us, Bill?
A more appropriate title might be ‘Tiawanese goats in Chernobyl expenses scandal’
Looks to me more like the “Last Supper’ by Chip O’Lata
Oh! Nuclear meercats!
A seahorse and three matches
Am I the first barbeque joke of the year?
Bill is a truly talented man. The Rorschache Inkblot test is reborn. Am I the only one to see a group of Geisha girls standing outside a bookies discussing the 3:45 at Kempton?