Local man, wastrel, ne'er do well, habitual drunkard, gambler, closet homosexual, dwarf, malcontent, former football hooligan, philanderer, alleged rapist, and alleged torturer of puppies and kittens, Martin Shuttlecock, this evening announced that he was being "Sloffensively Blurred" - although at this point, nobody, particularly him, appears to have the slightest clue what the fuck he's jabbering on about.
Seated in his luxurious parlour, on an upturned stolen wheelie bin, Shuttlecock prepared for a further shambolic YouTube performance by regaling reporters with an absolute torrent of nonsense.
Upon cracking his 76th can of beer of the evening, a clearly paralytically drunk and incoherent Shuttlecock, much to the embarrassment of the only sentient being who ever cared for him (His cat, and that's dead - Ed) went into a long rambling monologue about how upset he was by the current turn of events.
Although he wasn't specific as to which current turn of events he was referencing. It could have been the Arab Spring affair, Occupy Wall Street, or Carlos Tevez being a greedy bastard again. He didn't specify.
And his face did flop into the ash tray in front of him occasionally, to great comic effect, as each time he looked up, his ugly mug was plastered with roll-up butts.
It is thought that Shuttlecock is really upset that he has been "Sloffensibly Blurred." The "Sloffensible Blurrer" apparently denied all knowledge of "Sloffensibly Blurring" Shuttlecock, but has apparently issued a statement to the effect that if Shuttlecock continues to speak English and use long words like 'Marmalade' and 'Wheelbarrow' then the "Sloffensive Blurrer" will just have to make more stories up about Shuttlecock being a cream puff.
Not that there's anything wrong with that.
Unless you happen to harbour a secret phobia about it.
Gore As We Met It.