Written by Teddy Silver
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Wednesday, 1 May 2013

image for I'm sick of being a dirty little secret, says kebab
"Main ingedient of a donor kebab"

Donor kebab has said it is tired of being a late-night booty call and wants men to admit to their relationship when sober and not only after consuming twenty-five Jaeger-bombs and enough ketamine to knock out a small bear.

The statement came after health officials at the University of Bath stated that the meat substitute could lead to 'swine-flu face cancer' and as a result were beaten-up outside their homes by drunk men who claimed to love kebab more than their children; only to deny it the morning after.

"Why are these men lying to themselves by eating food they don't like?" said donor kebab. "It's only when they're drunk that they can admit their love for me… But to be quite frank, if I had a vagina and a wig they'd be having disappointing sex with me instead of their wives and girlfriends."

"Sometimes you'll order me with some soggy chips and a small serving of oily, unsatisfying salad. But we both know it's not about them. It's me you want - because I'm fucking ledge. So get off your high horse, if you'll forgive the apt phrasing, and just be honest with yourself."

"I'm basically that really filthy bird you only text when you're absolutely smashed. You're not keen when you're sober because she smells like urine and wears more foundation than an Estonian prostitute; but when you're drunk you'll have sex with her down a random alley and get syphilis."

"That's me - except I give you salmonella and farts that smell like mustard gas. But you love it and you always come crawling back for more…"

"No I hate kebab - it's absolutely disgusting," said a sweaty Stephen Madden from Essex. "I had it, like, once after snorting cocaine off of a toilet seat in Liverpool and I'm never putting that shit in my body again, it's got to be like 40% horse meat and the rest is concrete, badger farts and wood-chippings; I like couscous, lentils and candles that smell like free-range eggs."

Stephen was later pictured staggering out of his local kebab shop with a large meat and chips and passing out in a skip.

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The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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