Arseface McButtmunch

Hi everyone, my name is Arseface McButtmunch or I go by Richard Wilkins as my stage name. Hey, what is the difference between a washing machine and your mother? The washing machine doesn't follow me round for a week after I dump a load in her. But seriously, I have business.

I am writing from my secret headquarters. It is in a very secret place where nobody has ever been before. Hobart. While I am here I am announcing my intention of world domination. The axis of evil and I have been watching reruns of Heartbreak High and laughing about how we forced Ada Nicadamamamamamdoo onto the world! Bwahahahaha, phase one complete!

What? Hang on a second. Something has come up. Paul McDermott's wife is making us change something. We wanted to be the Axis of Evil but she is making us change it....

I don't like this.....

We're changing our name. We used to be tough. It has been stolen from us! I regret to inform you all, we are no longer the Axis of Evil but the Axis of Social Club. Tshirts are 20 bucks. Email me....

Arseface McButtmunch, out!

:(

Hello.

First it was green boots. Now it's yellow bikinis....

Nelson Aspen, The Olive Branch and I

Nelson Aspen and I - Look at those eyes! DREAMBOAT!

The Blogger waits patiently outside LAX niteclub in Los Angeles. The large black bouncer, wears a smart black button down shirt with pinstriped slacks and shiny jackboots. Large breasted scantily clad women crawl about the path, desperate for their chance to give Charlie Sheen a BJ. One older woman sees Martin Sheen exit and immediately is all over him. Before she can unbuckle his belt, hired security goons remove her.

Martin: Jesus, I am the President! Now I know how Clinton felt...

Goon No. 1: Wow, this muthf*cka still hasn't gotten over the West Wing (in hushed tones to Goon No. 2)

Goon No. 2: Yeah dawg. Stupid ass cracker!

Goon No. 1: Yeah white people are stupid!

Goon No. 2: Hahaha, did you get that from a Chris Rock DVD?

Older Woman: Tell Emilio I loved him in The Outsiders!

Martin: Who the fuck is Emilio? Is that the guy that irons my delicates in DC?

The bouncer unclips the velvet rope separating me from the red velour and black tiled interior of LAX. Young women throw themselves at middle aged men with 'leverage' in the 'industry'. By leverage, I of course men he is a male secretary for a female mail clerk.

Tart #1: Oh my god! This place is amazing!

Tart #2: I think I just fucked Jackie Chan in the janitor's closet!

Me: Excuse me, but I think that guy is the janitor. It says "Janitor" on the back of his jumpsuit and on the front there is a nametag that reads "Miguel".

Tart #2: So?

Me: Jackie Chan isn't a Mexican janitor.

Tart #3: So who are you? What do you do?

Me: Ummm, I'm kind of a writer...

Nelson Aspen: Lame!

With a flourish of his wrist he dismisses the girls now circling me. Their eyes glow green as the neon lighting picks up their sinister smiles. Each one feeling they have just squandered a chance to make it big by not infecting me with some venereal disease.

NA: So, what brings a pretty young thing like you here?

Me: Well I came here to see you... I think we should talk about this olive branch situation.

NA: Ok, so you wanna spank me with an olive branch.

Me: No, it's about your blog.

NA: My blog? Well it's only the most read counterculture, underground, gay hipster, pirate themed thrash metal jazz fusion based weblog in the West Hollywood area!

Me: huh? But it's about the Parrots.

NA: Ahh, not you again. I just had PETA and the RSPCA here yelling at me for using real Parrots in the "Captain Jacks A-Sparrow shoot". I didn't know Simon Rex had done gay porn and I didn't know that birds could catch herpes. Now any further questions will be answered by my legal team.

Me: No. The Parrots Confidential blog. I offered you an olive branch.

NA: What are you talking about? I'm gonna have to ask Kochie about this one...

Me: Kochie? Don't you mean that fuckwit builder guy from all those Jamie Durie 'let's build a house for retards' shows.

NA: Umm, no. he is a fuckwit but I mean Kochie from Channel 7's Sunrise program. You know, the top rating breakfast program that people make joke's about Fifi's box?

Me: But I thought you were that guy?

NA: Oh my god! You don't mean Richard Reid?

Me: Yeah, you. Richard Reid.

NA: Honey, my name is Nelson Aspen and I am a fucking Hollywood correspondent. I can tell you why Emilio Estevez never won an oscar for 'Champions', I can tell you who dyes george Clooney's pubes and if indeed Lady Gaga has man and boy bits.

Me: Then what the fuck does Richard Reid do?

NA: He buys pillows for lounges that don't come with pillows on tv shows that make you wanna put said pillows over his face until the last inch of life is kicked from his limp, brainless corpse.

Me: But I thought he was you. I thought he was at least that semi-normal gay American on Australian tv.

NA: No way. I'm outta here and tell that Richard Reid, I know he's been taping Patti Newton in the shower. He thinks it's Bert. Whacking off over a woman that you think is a man is pretty much the most embarassing act an interior designer can sink to, especially when Underbelly 2 was littered with scenes of Matthew Newton's arse.

Me: Hahaha. What an idiot!

NA: BTW handsome, Emilio never won an Oscar because he married Paula Abdul. 'Opposites Attract' cost him that statue so don't make that mistake. When you get famous, which celebrity will you marry?

Me: Ita Buttrose!

NA: Fist bump that shit!

Me: Nelson, this place is heaps like The Ivy in Sydney right?

NA: No way! This place is full of cocaine swilling reality television stars. The Ivy is full of fuckwits who wear Ed Hardy shirts. Huge difference! It's the kind of place you'd expect to find Dieter Brummer.

Me: Whoa, that bad. Lucky I've never been. Richard Reid has.

NA: I told you he was an idiot. He'd probably try to give Karl Stevanovic a handjob.

Me: He totally did!

NA: Giving the gays a bad name...

Me: See you later Nelson Aspen. Hollywood correspondent and all round sweet dude. I'm glad you clarified that you are not that retarded bloke of Channel 9 who I shall have to track down in my next adventure.

Can I have the 2 minutes it took to read that back?

So. You know how sometimes you get things you didn't ask for? You know how the things are so painfully shit house that you'd rather sit through a Rove McManus monologue or apply vinegar to your freshly circumcised penis? You know these kind of things like a Hey! Hey! It's Saturday comeback or Paul McDermott singing?

"I've come to rape your ears with my boundless talent for turning the human voice and my lack of wit into a glacially paced song loaded with as much humour as a Hey Dad scriptwriter's apology to his wife for nailing Betty in her Walgett"

Well, we got another thing we didn't ask for this week. Another blog from Richard Reid. Apart from the seemingly incorrect use of actors for current Parrots (I had Michelle Kwan as Mr Cool, Tasma Walton as Dowd, Tom Selleck is the correct moustached choice to play Reynolds - Magnum P.I. era of course, Kevin James as Fairclough and that fat guy that played Gimli in Lord of the Rings to play Werns. Actually no, let's go for Oprah. No... Let's go for someone like Tony Robins that ate Gimli and Oprah. We need this character to be proportionately correct). Oh no, I've got caught up in the magic of it all and forgot where I was..... I was giving it to Richard Reid for infecting the internet with such a disgusting excuse for a blog. Reading that blog makes me feel like I did the first time I saw those Nikki Webster pics in FHM. Should I have a boner? Then I saw the non-photoshopped pics and realised that I should not have had a boner. No amount of Sard Wonder Soap can clean your mind of that image and no amount of Jif can scrub this filth from the internet.

I do however have a solution! I am willing to welcome Richard Reid into my internet bossom if we as Australians do one thing. I am willing to help pave the way for him and allow him to be revered in the god-like manner that you adore me. I will share my harem, my riches, my fame/infamy and most importantly my Segway!

So help me. Come along. Help me rid the world of Paul McDermott! I have already cut him out of the Doug Anthony All Stars poster in my bedroom and sang over all his songs. I have re-edited Good News Week to include only the guests, that fat guy who everybody cheers for losing weight even though he is still the biggest fat arse on tv and that awkward blonde completely devoid of funny comedienne. It actually turn into a good show! Wes Carr actually proves he isn't one dimensional and does a stand up job at a mop impersenation. One girl even fucked a mop, thinking it was him. Turns out it was his girlfriend and she reckons the mop is better!

Anyway. Get rid of Paul McDermott. He was born in Adelaide. ADELAIDE! I didn't even think that was still part of Australia. I thought it existed as some outlaw colony run under pseudo-marshall law where bacteria live in houses and Adelaide-ians live in bins as they are the least evolved form of life. I saw a documentary on Adelaide called Mad Max. You should watch it!

Snowtown residents offer bank tours to tourists. Come and chew the vat.... I mean fat.

So Richard, what do you say? Friends? You are such a Ross after all....

I dunno what to do with myself...

The season is over. Pricey is the new Parrot of the Year. Mylanta is on special 2 for $10 at Priceline. I've reviewed the season. I've won Blogger of the Year. Considered learning Spanish. Given up learning Spanish. Found out Spanish in the sexual sense is where you finish on the decollatage. Thinking about Spanish again. Now what?

After the John Della Bosca saga, I thought about doing a political blog but after quickly realising that Mr Della Bosca reminded me of The Man Without A Face and wondering what the bird he nailed really liked about him, I thought about it again. I ruled a line through the political blog.

I flirted with the thought of a fashion blog. I like clothes. I like womens clothes, especially when they are made of fishing line and lace so I thought I could add something positive to the fashion world. Then I saw a woman that reminded me of Werns and I could not do back to back blogs about hemlines on women that look like Mimi Bobeck.

Finance? Is economics the key to my new blogging success? Keynesian economics, Marxist Financial Theory, Alan Greenspan? Would we really find fiscal & monetary policy interesting or would I just try to find nudes of an 83 year old Greenspan. I think it will be the later...

If I rule out those options, could I move to something that garners millions of readers a day. A gossip blog? Would you want to read about Lindsay Lohan's latest lesbian fling at the San Diego zoo or Scarlett Johansson's rumoured 3rd nipple. I'd probably just post pictures of how awesome it would be if Britney Spears was in Twilight so she could pash Rob Pattinson. No blog there...

Maybe celebrity is the answer but not gossip. What about music? I like music. I listen to Taylor Swift. Maybe I could give you all the latest news and answer questions like is Lady Gaga a fucking hack or is she just retarded? Not like heaps retarded just like 3 or 4%. She definitely airbrushes her photos! She's got serious Juice-nose going on too. I hate her...

I dunno what to do. I feel like Tracey Grimshaw getting ready to go out. Should I take a belt sander to my face, put on dress and pretend I am a lady or do I dust off the old brown tux and let everyone know that I am in fact a man. Decisions, decisions.

SIDEBAR: So pissed off I didn't get to see George! In fact I will be following a group of investigators trying to track him down. Maybe I can hire that guy says he found Olivia netwon-John's ex but hasn't so much as shown a photo. He sounds good... Where in the world is George San Diego?