Standing at the alter I started to wonder how it had all gone so right. The tingle of anticapation in my colon, the oniony taste of chives in my mouth, the burning sensation when I pass water. Yes today I would bind my love with Natasha, today I would commit myself for all time to my sweet little dribbly and tonight I would deffinetly sex her face off. Prior to this however I had to deal with Sebastian. His mind seemingly not wiped I was afraid that he could upset my nuptials, and of course if Natasha refuses to marry me it is tradition in the village that she be mixed with beaten egg and breadcrumbs and made into meatballs. Plus we were running low on salt and meatballs, in particular ones made with the other other white meat, take a load of seasoning. Yes we have a glut of chives, it is chive season afeter all, but a good sprinkle of salt cuts through through the fattiness of man meat, not that Natasha has much fat, most was scored of f by the Bear, though of course now that it's scored it would make it easier to render down during the cooking process, a few buttered Jersey Royals a little wholegrain mustard, et voila! Delicious! Not since I ate the village Elder in the form of sausage have I eaten human. And although I was feeling that rare but powerful cannibal urge even I would draw the line at eating my own bride. Certainly on our wedding day. Plus it's horribly illegal. There are three main laws in my village, don't eat your wife, don't point it's rude and of course unbelievable drooling subservience to me. I must admit I did a little pointing the other day but when Vanya our local law enforcer cited section two, sub-heading one at me I slapped him about like a Romanian sex-worker and made him kiss his own mum. Harsh, very unfair but fair. On the morning of our wedding I plotted how to get rid of Sebastian. I couldn't just kill the man. Well of course I could but I had to admit a slight fondness for the git faced numpty. Fired by inspiration I dashed over to Sebastians cave, knocked on the door, which he was stood just behind. Though of course caves don't have doors so I found myself impatiently drumming my knuckles on the bridge of his silly snotty nose. Then I unleashed my ultimatum.  "Listen!" I said with words "Today I am going to marry Natasha, yes she's disfiguired, yes she has the mental capacity of a lemon, yes she wears whicker trousers which due to their un-flexible nature cause her to stumble and bang her head like a drunk three year old but I LOVE HER! And although we had a fling Sebastian I will not allow you to spoil this day. I did a bad thing, and if she finds out it'll kill her and then I'll have to kill her and I don't want that I just want her to be happy. Dammit Sebastian I want to be happy! Please don't tell her I bummed you." "Ok" he said "Thank you" I said relieved. "Did you make Vanya kiss his own mum?", "Yes I did" I replied, "It made him cry Sam", "Oh thats too bad", "yeah", "Better go now", "Wish I didn't live in a cave", "Yeah cave's are shit" ,"I'm hungry" "Gotta go Seb" Christ what a moron. Kind of him to keep quiet about my adultry however, I'll get Vanya to selotape his head to a goat if he so much looks at Natasha funny. Everyone looks at her funny come to think about it, at first I thought it was jealousy but now I suspect it's because one of her eyes is milky like a rabbits eye and her nose is sideways. But waiting at the altar I felt like the luckiest man alive, which I'm not, Justin Timberlake is, but either way village life is good.

I awoke this morning with a sense of gay abandon. True, today was to be the day of my wedding to my once beautful yet mentally pureed girlfriend Natasha but looking to my left I realised that I had must have taken sexual advantage of the athletic Sebastian. For there he lay rigid and inviting. Like a sock filled with coins that had been dipped in chocolate, called Sebastian and left in my bed for me to do wild Gorilla bumming on. Whilst trying desperatley to recall the previous nights actions I decided to act quickly. Reaching to my left I picked up a vase filled with worthless sticks ( a gift from Natasha ) and brought it down hard into Sebastians grinning visage, remembering only a the last second that Natasha's vase gift was made from papier mache. For two minutes Sebastian and I sat in embarrassed silence. Erring on the side of diplomacy I decided instead to punch him in the temple with 2p's inbetween my fingers. Taking the hint he lept out of bed and with lightning pace ran into the wall. I advised my bodyguard to take the unconcious Sebastian to the river and erase his memory. An ancient village ritual involving an earbud being pushed into the brain followed by a conversation about fashion. Calmed I sent for Natasha. When she arrived she told me in that slurred, dribbly manner of hers that it was bad form to see the bride before the ceremony. Fearing vengance from above and not wanting to break tradition I kicked Natasha in the back of the head as she left. She seemed pleased that the universe had been righted but was clearly dazed. She was later seen tryng to put days of the week socks on an irate bear. She was of course horribly mauled. In light of the injuries my beloved sustained, which are so bad many of the hungry locals have taken to dipping bread in her face, I have decided to postpone the wedding. This may prove advantageous as I'm unsure that Sebastians' mind has been properly wiped. He approached me earlier on and asked if we could have sex again. I'm sixty percent sure he recalls something. And if he recalls anything, not least the bit where I wore him like a shoe, Natasha could get upset. Something must be done about Sebastian. Till next time. xxx

How excited I was. How tingly I felt in my tummy. How many times did I dart to the toilet expecting to foister an enormous brown deathslide into the airplane bowl only for it to be a nervous guff. How many times did the steward have to say "The toilets are there sir, this is economy." I awaited to see the innocent expecting faces of my loyal village runts only to arrive back and see a sea of blank, heartless faces. Many were of course dead. It has been a barren year. One minute rain, the next gorgeous sunshine.Terrible for growing crops. Well the white truffles failed to materialise yet again. But many others were not pleased to see me at all. Had it not been for the general mal-nutrition in the camp having stripped all strength from the angry hoarde I may have been in a spot of bother. As it was they were very weak, especially the women and I could just put my hand on their faces and push them over. I soon tired of this. I love to compete and some of the villagers would even die if I pushed them nearly my hardest. Exhausted I decided to crack out the duty free and feast myself on chocolates, fags, booze, chewing gum and perfume, all the while regaling my steadfast (badly injured) audience with tales of London. How I met fabulous women, ate incredible food, how I was raped by a Somalian Taxi driver in Rotherhithe. A while later when I was stuffed I began to consider my actions. How maybe I could lead better. Be a better man. Consider my peoples rights. Feed 'em once in a while. In times like this I take the dead elders skull out of my knapsack and lick it. When I licked it I felt a surge of well-being. As if the elder was saying "Don't worry Sam. You've done nothing wrong. Even when you killed me and made me into sausage that was ok. Carry on like you are."  Feeling relieved I went to my hut. I found a weak yet upbeat Natasha. I eased her whicker trousers off and made sweet love to her bottom. I love her so much. She has a Ready-brek brain but she'll never leave me. Good to be back. Til next time. x

How nice it will be to get home. How pleasing to return to my little village after my little trip to a far flung land. Using the last of the money I had raised through excessive taxation in my mud village I travelled to LONDON! I had to first take the herd of cows in my village and get some of the local school children to tie them together with rope. I say school children, but they are rather children of school age. Many are so bereft of education that they still walk sideways like fleshy crabs. Still, despite many avoidable deaths, my cow train was now ready. Onward!  Packing suppllies such as milk, arborio rice, dried porcini, goats cheese and imported Lilt Zero I set off. Their was much noise as I left. Many villagers ran screaming after me screaming "No!", "Don't leave!" and "You bastard our food! Our cows!" I admit it did bring a tear to my eye. I would have liked a proper goodbye but I have to discover new things. Plus my heaving cow train was far to quick. After an hour the cow train began to disassemble and  I had thrown most supplies away in order to build greater cow speed. Hungry and bored I hailed a cab and flew bussinness to heathrow. What a revalation London was. The Christmas festival was awe inspiring. It seemed to me that Jesus and myself have much in common. The only difference seems to be that after his ressurection he went to heaven, where you go when you're dead anyway whereas I have never died and as a result have never been ressurected. But our popularity is shared. In my village we have a season of gift giving. I recieve gifts of food, sex and really nice compliments. The locals love it as they don't get killed by any of my overfed heavies that guard my shack. In recent years, since the famine where I ordered no crops to be planted and instead told all to pray for ready meals, my heavies have become more and more usefull. Still back to London, I have a list of things that I liked most. 1) The dust that collects in the doors of tumble driers. Peeling the dust sheets off the filters is the single most pleasurable thing I have done since I managed to fit a whole hand inside my beloved Natasha.  2) The smell that comes from freshly tumbled clothes. 3) Utility rooms with washer/driers, large sink, fridge/freezer. I'd love to have one in my hut but the only electricity we have is from the rigged up hamster wheel I put Sebastian in when I want to read shampoo bottles at night. Yes he returned but hasn't said a word to Natasha or me about our love. Though he did smirk when he saw Natashas disfigurement, but not when I had his mother executed. Well be home soon. Should be good to get back. Bet everyones doing great. Big love xxxxxxx

The storm lifted, the air cleared and again calm descended on our little mud villiage. Trigorin the most senior elder in our villiage, he's 50, rushed into my hut and warned me a great rain was coming. I informed him gently, by patting his head, that the great rain had been and gone and that Medvedenko, our other elder had brought us good heed a week ago. It later transpired that Trigorin had been confused for a number of years and was in fact was the elder of a neighbouring villiage, some twenty miles south. Alas due to the lack of fore-warning all inhabitants of said village had been horribly drowned in the deluge. The image of young girls and kids scrabbling for high ground whilst cursing their god for lack of warning will haunt Trigorin. He seemed inconsolable. So i didn't bother trying.

Sebastian is yet to return from the woods. Natasha however is recovering nicely. Her confidence is up and she even managed to blink this morning. If she tilts her head on to her shoulder in twilight her face seems almost even. We made love today for the first time. It was glorious. I had a whale of a time. Natasha seemed a little preoccupied at times. At on point I noticed she had a pen and had begun to play hangman on my mattress. The fact she didn't win a game concerned me more than her lack of engagement with our carnal activity. Still love is blind. Natasha is nearly actually blind. But you know what? Im happy! Village life is a treat. If Sebastian returns demanding contract of our engagement I'll have his mother reclassified as a goat and have her milked. Oddly in one place old lady milk is considered Ambrosia. God saw fit to wash away such a place. I feel bad for Trigorin. But he is old and his brain has soured. Such is the passage of time aided by malnutrition. Til next time x

Today was a day of low morale in my villiage. The weather was bad. Due to the poor education in my villiage, mainly down to my spending all tax revenue on tonka trucks, most villiagers leave shelter during bad weather and stand in open spaces. Mother Gracy was struck by lightning last year and as a result gave birth to a 6ft hemaphrodite child that looks like a skunk. As is often the way the skunk child is now revered in the villiage. Well they do say every cloud has a silver lining, but they are also full of rain which makes you wet and gives you prune balls. Due to the rain my upcoming nuptials to Sebastian were postponed. Clearly disapointed he ran off into the woods. Many locals fear for his life. I however hope he dies as I'd much rather marry Natasha. During the storm she took shelter in my hut. She complimented me on the decor, and as my hut is simply mud, I asked if she knew what decor mean't. She said she thought it mean't "excellent". I proposed that complimenting me on my "excellent" was absurd. She sat and cried hot salt tears. Which due to their heat and sodium content have left her irrevecably scarred. Although I love her for her personality I am questioning my desire for her as she now looks like a 6 year olds painting of an, old, horribly scarred, dead woman. Maybe Sebastian will return. If he does I'll have him killed, Sebastian is the worst of all possible names. Til next time x

Today was a warm day in my villiage. Mainly because of the sun. For lunch I ate a traditional dish called manka. Manka is the bird inside a bird inside a bird dish. In this case a duck stuffed into a chicken stuffed into a goose stuffed into a turkey stuffed into a duck. A complex dish needing a talented chef with several years training. More experienced chefs can prepare the dish in under an hour with no more than a bread knife and a tiffany's shoe horn. Sated I decided to sleep after my meal, unfortunatly I forgot to lie down and fell asleep standing. An elder told me he found me snoring heavily with my head jammed in a cat flap. Oddly I don't own a cat, I use the flap to reach through and tickle ladies legs when they're cooking.I have recently introduced a minimum wage in my villiage. Where everyone will get paid as little as I can. After my nap I walked to the river and bathed. I became transfixed by the clouds and decided to touch myself. I have felt erotically atracted to clouds ever since one fingered my bum as a child. Tommorow is the first day of my courtship. I will date each women from my villiage in turn. I will then date each man. then we all race and whoever wins I marry. I hope Natasha wins, she is beautiful. But she has short legs and wears whicker trousers so I fear sebastian may win. He is a championship sprinter who even runs short distances. Like turning around and moving a little bit to the side. Still he has full lips and a tender smile so what will be will be. I hope to speak soon. x

So i suppose this is a blog. Short for blograntation. The latin art of hiding around a corner while talking quietly about people you dislike the while tickling your testes with a feather. It's a interesting medium. Of course I don't know what thet means. So a bit about me. My name is Sam. I was born in a Kurdish mining town where Kurds were mined and used as seasoning for fish and chicken. My mother left my father after a blazing row in which she admitted she was a lesbian trapped in a womans body. My father followed suit but it was all too late. He walked out the door, returing fifteen minutes later claiming he was hungry. Life in my villiage was easy. Because it was my villiage. I owned it. I was made de facto leader in 2000, and was talked out of my rage when a villiage elder explained to me that de facto didn't mean overweight. Although my tyraany would not yet cease. In a fit of pique I had said villiage elder turned into 15 pounds of sausage. As a token of my regret I keep his skull in a knapsack. When I feel upset I open the sack and lick the elders teeth. We all cope in different ways. I don't have a girlfriend at the moment. X