I’M NOT DEAD…
What a joke. Three weeks I’ve been trying to hide my 12ft silver monolith in the middle of nowhere, and no sooner have I planted it some geek with fucking Google earth tracks it down
again! It was safe in Utah for years before those sheep hunting halfwits “found” it. Honestly, you can’t have fucking anything can you?
It’s nice to think of that being the real reason for my ominous silence isn’t it? Well, nicer than thinking;
‘Oh shit, he’s a fuck-up isn’t it he? I hope he’s not had a massive coronary or perished from liver disease on account of his stupid fucking lifestyle choices. Maybe it’s the ‘rona, that’s Kryptonite to fat cunts.’
‘Oh, fuck. What if it’s the constant, enveloping despair that fuels the mediocre rants he churns out for grasping validation, or the crippling self-loathing? What if the pubs were closed just one week too long and the prick’s hanging somewhere, or sitting in a car with a only a hose for company in a vacant garage, engine running until the petrol ran out?’
No such luck I’m afraid. Nothing quite as exciting as any of that. I got Zuckered, again. If you’re reading this from the website my ban should be up tomorrow and I’ll be posting this in full on Tuckered 2.0 directly.
I saw all of your messages and comments by the way, and I wasn’t being melodramatic by not replying. I genuinely haven’t been able to do anything. I’ve lost accounts, and I’m perilously close to losing this page again.
I was really touched by the concern some of you showed though. It’s actually quite nice to feel missed.
You’d think I’d have spent this time wisely wouldn’t you? Keeping abreast of current affairs, fully armed with material for my glorious return. But no, I’ve done fuck all and nowt’s really changed anyway.
There’s still a shit-flinging orangucunt refusing to leave The Whitehouse like a petulant toddler in a soft play area when your fifteen quid is up. Still hordes of medicine avoiding simpletons taking to the streets to ironically protest against the draconian measures they’re ensuring continue indefinitely, and Brexit is still messier than my kid’s bedrooms.
Still, it could be worse couldn’t it? There could be millions of peope in Corbyngrad being lined up and publicly executed for not conforming with the vaccine roll-out. Actually that doesn’t sound too bad does it? Better than the impending erection (erection lol) of our own usless, 12ft, industry-crushing, Britain-breaking, milk-thieving, miner-hating monolith.
I genuinely don’t know how long I’ve got left on here but so please follow the backup page in the comments and search ‘Tuckered 3.0’ if this one ever dissappears, and if you’re reading this online the new Facebook page (Tuckered 2.0) ishere;
I’ve missed it too. The shit dad jokes, the banter, the oversharing, the incessant ramblings and even the stuff I post, oh and the “coffee”, especially the “coffee”. Speaking of which…..
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