I'm A Homophobe – GET ME OUT OF HERE - Part 2

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And so it came to pass that I found myself arm in arm with Linford in an Australian TV Studio err...jungle even... but I soon realised what a mistake I'd made. I looked around me and quickly saw Christopher Biggins being bummed by the old geezer from Star Trek and Rhona Cameron was flicking her bean and paying my tits far too much attention already. Them two jocks from channel 5 were doing some interior decorating of each other's anuses and Wayne Sleep just generally minced around while he awaited the results of his 19th AIDS test. But that was only half of the camp, from the corner of my eye even more strange sites greeted me. Osama Bin Laden was deep in conversation with Mel Gibson while the Pope did a line off a koala bear (a bear that later turned out to be an aboriginal boy in a suit). Fred Phelps was busy telling Hitler why god hates fags and Hitler responded by saying that the jews weren't that bad after all, now that he'd had time to think about it, his main objection was that they were always given a capital 'J' when discussed in print. Mel Gibson seemed to strongly disagree although I couldn't hear his exact words as Rhona had pounced on me. Linford had been gone for less than a minute and she'd struck. Now her scottish accent was immensely erotic and as I felt her hot breath in my ear it reminded me of the time I deflowered young Jimmy Krankie during my years as a man. I needed to make it clear though that cock was my first priority so I decided to introduce myself.

“Hello dear, I'm Eileen Homophobe”, said I.

“Eileen fucking who?!”, Rhona cried, suddenly turning into a rampaging braveheart type and swinging a punch at me. Luckily Linford arrived in the nick of time.

“My arse is just for shitting mate”, said my saviour as he knocked the northern banshee the fuck out. I tried to explain to him that Rhona was actually female but he was having none of it. The fight had got the attention of Mel Gibson though who approached us immediately. We'd heard the stories about Mel and I could see that Linford was clearly concerned. Having called me 'sugar tits' within seconds of meeting me he asked to take Linford aside for a quick word. I consented and went to mingle with some of the other campers. Hitler in particular gave me the evil eye which I found disturbing, particularly as we shared a lot of the same views (other than his latter-day liberal ones) so I bypassed him and went for a chat with Fred and the Pope. As Fred regaled me with his hilarious tales of protesting at the funerals of dead homosexuals it was clear that the Pope disagreed, he preferred homosexuals to be alive and serving in his church. Nevertheless the three of us sat down and the pope skinned us up a fat one and even the tiresome sound of numerous arses getting battered from the other side of the camp could not get us down. We were soon so cained ourselves that we didn't notice that the squeals that Biggins was making were no longer ones of joy.

Mein Kampf**k

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Hitler came racing back to our side of the camp with a look of abject fear in his eyes.

“Nein, NEIN!”, shouted Adolf, “Ze Biggins! Zay are fucking him to ze death!”

“Christ on a bike!” exclaimed the Pope, who shot up and sprinted to see what was going on. Fred and I were still a bit too wasted to get up that quickly but we helped each other to our feet and he accidentally on purpose copped a lengthy feel of my posterior.

“You must be wearing space pants” said Fred.

“Cos your arse is out of this world!” the smooth talking racist fascist bible bashing nutjob retorted. I'm not ashamed to admit that I'd have noshed him off if he'd carried on wooing me so incredibly. However our imminent blossoming love was derailed by an aussie accented cry of “I'M A HOMOPHOBE! GET ME OUT OF HERE!” and with that the set fell down and Ant & Dec appeared from out of nowhere. Dec was crying and Ant was visibly shaken too. I followed their gaze to see Mel Gibson on his knees, trying to poke his own eyes out to eradicate the terrifying image in front of him. While the 'cool' group had been getting high the heterophobes had taken it upon themselves to make Biggins airtight, much to the delight of the man himself.

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The problem was that with a dozen gays and only one Christopher Biggins they soon ran out of holes to fill. It became clear that Wayne Sleep had decided to make his own hole in Biggins with a tent pole and fuck that. The others followed suit and as Adolf had warned us, they proceeded to fuck Biggins to death. All that was left was a bloody, spunk covered shell of the former entertainer. Having seen his face I could look no more and Linford was physically sick when he returned to see semen running out of the now empty eye sockets and out of the throat hole that one of the bennets had made.

Adolf and I clung to one another in shock, our differences resolved. It turned out that during my time as Dirty Den I'd murdered his great nephew in a taxi. The cunt had deserved it mind, as Adolf readily agreed. Linford came back from a final chat with the traumatised Mel and took my hand gently, “It's time to go babe”, he said.

“Where are we going?”

“Mel's offered me a few quid. He wants me to round up a pack of mates and visit his ex. He didn't say what for but I've heard she's fit so it's probably to do with Athletics. I'm picking up John Regis and Kriss Akabusi this afternoon!”

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I'm A Homophobe – GET ME OUT OF HERE - Part 1

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