I don't like to talk about my past exploits much because not only is Old Knudsen a humble and modest person but a lot of his past is still classified and very much in play. I want to take this moment to apologise to all the families of those field agents killed and tortured due to posts I have written on this blog. On the bright side they did turn out to be highly popular posts.
I had just cum out of the Golf war, I was a caddy in the very special air service. I suffered from post traumatic stress disorder and would wake up at night screaming as the faces of those I had killed or holed in one would haunt me. Strange cos I usually shoot fuckers in the back and never see their faces , a lot safer that way.
I was approached by Alex Cunklin who was the coordinator for a black on black, wet works and landscape gardening organisation named Treadmill They spent 30 million dollars training me to be a top assassin to be skilled in every weapon and anything that can be used as a weapon. I undertook extensive training in boxing, packaging and Eskrima which is a Filipino weapons-based martial art and paper folding discipline.
My first mission was to kill Russian politician Vladimir Neski. You may have heard about it. The papers reported that he committed suicide in his Berlin hotel room by shooting himself in the back 3 times and then hung himself in his closet with his belt. Well Old Knudsen is going out on a limb here and saying it was no suicide, it was Old Knudsen himself.
Ach it haunts me but the good pay and benefits helped me get through it. Don't go feeling sorry for Old Knudsen I'm sure there are plenty of things about yer own jobs that aren't very nice like printer ink on yer fingers and hey it was a living right?
My next job was the assassination of deposed African dictator Nykwana Wambosa. I spent five days hiding aboard his luxury yacht and then one night I crept out to shoot him making it look like it was one of his own men.
As I drew a bead on Wambosa I saw he had one of his young children with him. Old Knudsen is a man of conscience and could not pull the trigger, besides Wambosa offered me 2 million dollars not to kill him.
Fuck did I get in trouble with Cunklin. They sent out several of my fellow killers to get me. Old Knudsen killed one with a Dutch oven another got it from behind with an iron set for steam press, does anyone ever iron anymore? Old Knudsen likes his trousers with creases not tram lines, a starched crease you could shave on or use as a slashing weapon. Of course I usually can't be arsed these days and yer lucky if I dress from the waste doon ........ depression you know.
Yes I improvised , killing one with a bic pen (blue) a rolled up wank mag, a used condom and a toothbrush, not my toothbrush I must add as I have rep of poor British dental hygiene to up hold though Americans and their lack of health care have probably over taken us by now.
I used my training to allow myself to be captured by local police as I cunningly lay in a drunken stupor in bed covered in the blood of a prostitute, hey I don't mind dirty sex while they are on their periods ask yer ma.
Yer a fucking crack hoor, I don't do washing so stop being picky and suck me lad. To find out if I was a security risk Cunklin waterboarded me, then put bambo splinters up my fingers nails, then pulled off my finger nails, then made me read every blog in my links, then commented "LOL" under my name. I must say by then I was ready to tell him anything. I put my plan into action and sobbed like a baby until they let doon their guard.
I loosened one of me rotten teeth and spat it out like a bullet hitting Cunklin between the eyes killing him instantly. The chair I was tied to became a weapon and I killed my guards in a matter of seconds.
This post has gone on long enough so................... foot chase, car chase, a line of coke on a mirrored table, shoot-outs, explosions, lentils and walking away to the sound of sirens somehow having taped Cunklin calling the Queen a limey bitch and thus justifying all of my actions.
They closed Treadmill and started an new project codenamed "Blackmuff" which is the same thing just different people, you know the government. One of the many reasons I hate working for the Yanks, same smell of shite just under a different brand name.
Role end credits:
Extreme gheys are back again
Extreme places I didn't know
I broke everything new again
Everything that I'd boned
I threw it out the windows, came along
Extreme gheys I know want my bum
The colors of my pee
Perfect color me
Extreme gheys that help me
That help me out at night
Extreme places I had gone
But never seen any shite
Dirty basements, dirty boyz
Dirty places coming through
Extreme worlds alone
Did you ever like it rimmed.
I would stand in line for this
There's always room in life for piss.
Oh baby, oh baby
Then I felt a fart, felt a fart
Oh baby, oh baby
Then I felt a fart, I felt a fart
Oh baby, oh baby
Then I felt a fart, I felt a fart
Oh baby, oh baby
Like it always does, it always stains.
Extreme dealers that sold to me
They helped me down every night
I didn't have much to say
I didn't get above the light
I closed my eyes and closed myself
And closed my world and never opened
Up to anything
That could get me a bong.
I had to close down everything
I had to close down my shop
Too many things to cover me
Too much wanking can make me blind
I've seen so much in so many places
So many heartaches, so many feces
So many dirty things
You couldn't even believe
I would stand in line for this
It's always good in life for this
Oh baby, oh baby
Then I felt a fart, felt a fart
Oh baby, oh baby
Then I felt a fart, I felt a fart
Oh baby, oh baby
Then I felt a fart, I felt a fart
Oh baby, oh baby
Like it always does, it always stains.
Any resemblance to anything similar is purely coincidental, its not my fault someone ripped off my life.
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