Bingo – King of the Bongos. Part 10

Bingo – King of the Bongos. Part 10

The Donald forgives the Thanksgivings turkeys – AD 2019.

Press presentation in the rose garden. A tad chilly at minus 47c, but by burning loads of fossil fuels, the large tent is steaming.

‘People of America, and I include only those with white skins and the rest are human trafficking Gypos from Mexico and a load of drug dealers, rapists and gangsters who should go back to Africa. They came over here for free and as token gesture we send them back to Africa at a reduced rate.

But, today, I received a gift from those Commie slit eyes in Chinky land, of two peace turkeys called Wing Wam and Chop Suey. I am supposed to forgive them for their sins, but I gather they got bird flu.

Now – see that large rose bush. Watch this.’

A secret service bodyguard hands him a baseball bat.

‘This bat, is part of my personal collection, it was wielded by non-other by, ‘The Irishman’, when he bludgeoned Jimmy Hoffa to death and it is personally signed by him. Bring me Wing Wam.’

The Donald took a few practice swings, then struck. The turkey gobbled and soon took nervous flight, as its head was struck such a blow as to fly without wings to land perfectly on the top of the designated rose bush.

The press cheered and high-fived. This was God’s work in action against the dreaded reds. The Donald, raised his arms and swapped the base ball bat for a tiny capsule.

‘Wing Wam is now wingless and WHAM, hey? Great laugh folks, great laugh, I tell ya. But, hang on, this here is the world’s smallest nuclear bomb. Made in America, folks. We don’t even have a washing machine in the Whitehouse. Too many Chinese made parts, no folks, none of that – we get true Americans to wash our clothes. Well, not our clothes. We just buy new ones.’

The press are now full saturated on free Jack Daniels and Fox News presenter, Samantha Luvcock, is desperate to replace the last turkey so as to get a gobble.

The brilliant Sky News, investigative journalist, award winning, Rhodesian educated, Alex Crawford, sent the secret message to her film and sound crew via ‘fuckedupapp’ – ‘The fucker is mad, get us out of here.’

Unperturbed, the Donald grabs Chop Suey and places the tiny atomic bomb in the anus of Chop Suey. It gobbles excitedly. Wiping his hands of turkey shit on his ever-present, dumb blonde wife on her big tits and commie background, - he waves his hand.

‘This is America, the land of the free. I will give those commie bastards a sign. See this! It is a remote control. My scientists tell me that Chop Suey will dissipate into a mushroom cloud and radiation is restricted to 300 feet, so I suggest you mother fuckers of fake news step a bit closer.’

With that, the Donald flew off in his Airforce 2 and a bit, helicopter, and pushed the red button.

As most of the Whitehouse dissolved with the press becoming shadows on the side walk, he phoned his best mate Boris, Prime Minister of Brexit island.

‘I need to talk to you.’

Boris replays. ‘You are.’

‘Yeah, listen, what’s this shit about Bingo and all that. I got a bad feeling.’

- - -

Trouble ahead?

Who will give head to make trouble? Tarzan?

Stay tuned for the next episode of – Bingo – King of the Bongos.
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Bingo – King of the Bongos - Part 9

 Bingo – King of the Bongos  - Part 9

Dring dring- dring dring.

‘Houston here.’

The man at the other end of the phone is a very angry - ‘The Donald´.

‘Houston, you have a big fucking problem you stupid twat. I just got a report on my desk saying maniacs are on the loose in equatorial Africa and three of them are supposed to be brain dead. Explain before a drone drops a bomb on you and all of your family can sing ashes to ashes dust to dust…’

Professor Erwin Houston, brain specialist, shits himself. He had been caught with his pants still up.
‘Er, hi Mr President. Erm, Tee hee, it was a new form of frontal lobotomy using cyber software. I think it may have gone wrong.’

‘May have gone wrong? May have gone wrong! Have the terrible triplets brains or not and in the pictures there are operational scars.’ (Sounds of the white house cat being kicked to death.)

‘Er, Boss, they just temporary tattoos. The triplets are fully functional maniacs. Sorry I fucked up. And before you kill us all – I better tell you the rest.’

‘Hurry up, you have 30 seconds before you meet whatever maker you had.’

Houston babbled frantically – ‘There was a short circuit, their heads are programmed with every violent video game ever made. They are beyond ticking time bombs and…’

‘This call has been terminated- for ever. Please contact your local operator.’

Big Boom sound.

The Donald turns to his Chief of the whole fucking 2 million lunatics of trained queers, lesbians of the armed forces and shouts out your – ‘Your fired.’

- - -

Meanwhile at exactly the same time, in a small village in North Korea, Tsin Zang Zong has just found in his eetsie beetsie plot of land to grow pilchards, is a small box on the end of a small parachute. He rushes home to his eetsie beetsie hut of a roof of plastic bags on 3 poles wigwam style, and opens the box. Inside are lots of strange blue pills and an an instruction sheet. In English, but that is no problem, he can use that to wipe his arse.

He pops three pills and withing 15 mins feels a strange stirring of his one eyed spitting cobra. His daughter walks past, naked as no one can afford clothes, a huge erection fires up straight into his lower jaw and exits out the top of skull.

At least he died happily.

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Tracy has landed on the border to the Democratic Republic of Insane Monkeys and greets Poncho and Macho. She tells them the good news. Bingo intercepted a twitter between The Donald and Professor Houston. Turns out you still have all faculties. He is on the way to see Tarzan and persuade him to get the Bingos to join us to free Mattress and wipe the mother fucking  Buk ‘em in my Harem off the face of the earth and…what the fuck is this lot?’

‘It’s the Mini Mzingi tribe, we persuaded them to help us.’ Poncho scratches at his hole while explaining.

Tracy frowns. ‘They all seem to have only one leg.’

Macho – ‘Well they prop each other up till one gets drunk and then they all fall down.’

Tracy is about to blow her top when a Mini Mzingi, who had been on renascence hops up. He has news about the evil, Buk ‘em in my Harem, whereabouts.

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Stay tuned for the next part – because things start to get really nasty.

Suzie and the fairies.

Suzie and the fairies.

It was a hot summer night. The sun was setting on this hot summer night. Most probably in Australia. In which case that would be dawn of another mundane day of a husband, stinking of sweated whiskey, emptying his bag in a vagina, but Suzie never thought of such thoughts as she had just rubbed her clitoris raw whilst looking on her phone.

She had to get organised. The fairies were coming for dinner and the smell of freshly excited kippers steaming away from a hairy crotch, were a no-no.

The fairies arrived. Bum cheeks squeezing, oozing love from well emptied testicles. Necks bruised from love bites and picking pubic hair from front teeth worn down to stumps from sucking cock.

Suzie has a husband. An old codger, restricted at the age of 94 to a wheel chair with a hole in the seat to pour out his leaking innards. With a Ph.D. in chemical warfare, an inherited estate worth millions and just finished 34 years in prison for murder, he did not really have any desire to live anymore.

He hated fairies. Fucking bum chums. He recalled his own last experience of anal sex with a male. It was in Peru. Love at first sight. He, Henry, the fourth Earl of Fuckyanus,  went with Pedro all around the country, checking out the scenes and at night made love doggy style. But things were to go sour as he demanded missionary style. It just became a hateful scene off tangled limbs and love bites that drew blood.

He never really wanted to kill Pedro, but at the third curve of, Mucho Gracious mountain, a rock slide occurred and he and Pedro plunged into the abyss. Convicted of murder because, whilst surviving his stiff member was still stuck up the donkey’s arse.

Suzie was entertaining the fairies. She had organised 20 bricklayers to show hairy cracks, whilst they supped on Champaign. Henry laughed. Supped on his own glass off bubbly and let out a runny squirt with the occasional pop of undigested maize pips.

Timing was impeccable. The fairies dropped like flies as the sparkly drink, loaded with cyanide, kicked in. Last laugh or what? Henry got his first erection in 34 years as he died. Last thought was of Pedro’s full testicles emptying in his arse, a 27 inch knob making his eyes bulge.

The police came. Suzie gave them a short statement. All wrapped up and hush-hush. She inherited the lot, sold the lot, bought a motor yacht for 7 million and went onto Tinder where she would look to get a new lover.