Malice in Blunderland

The comedy-hero of Malice in Blunderland’s life is shite.
He is inept, depressed, and in a job where the highlight of his day is a swift wank in the customers’ toilets. He has a drug problem so big that the cow-shaped cookie jar in his rank kitchen is usually full of speed and Ketamine. It’s all his ex-girlfriend’s fault.
Waking up in a boat in a car park miles from home, he thinks that things can’t get much worse, after all, he doesn’t have his shoes on which means he’s either had sex or had a crap.
It marks the start of what will be the worst week of his life.
Soon he will be beaten up, hounded by the police who believe him to be either a rapist, a drug-dealer, or both; he will cross the Ukranian Mafia, nearly get raped by a predatory transvestite and perform unspeakable acts of depravity with a nymphomaniac who is paralysed from the waist down. All before being involved in a shoot-out and finding himself cast as the star of a gay S&M snuff movie dressed as Elvis Presley.
Ending his week sitting on a park bench overdosed on high-grade heroin and sporting a black eye from having been on the wrong end of a strap-on dildo, he fantasizes about a sexy policewoman who has not been the same since she saw our hero’s penis and watched one of her colleagues eat shit.
Has he learnt anything? Not much, but it’s unlikely that he’ll ever take three Viagra pills at once again.
Idiosyncratic in his spelling and grammar, Gibbings pulls no punches. If politically incorrect narrative offends you then please look away now!