Shit Its The A-Team.

In 1972, a crack commando unit was sent to prison by a military court for a crime they didn't commit. These men promptly escaped a maximum security stockade to the Los Angeles underground. Today, still wanted by the government, they survive as soldiers of fortune. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire...the A-Team.

In the 80's I tried to get back into acting, hoping to slip in under the long noses of the Jews that had blackballed me from Hollywood, see previously on Old Knudsen. Little does the average punter know but I was one of the original members of the hit TV show The A-team, there was Colonel John " Hannibal" Smith, (George Peppard) Sergeant Bosco "Bad Attitude" Baracas, ( Mr. T, Lawrence Tero) Lieutenant Templeton "Faceman" Peck (as played in the pilot by Tim Dunigan) and me who played Captain B.B. "Howling Mad" Knudsen the mentally disturbed Nam vet pilot, and there was of course a token broad as a news paper reporter.

George Peppard was the star and he made sure everyone knew about it, the biggest trailer with a vibrating recliner, he'd always start off conversations to the director this way, "when I made breakfast at Tiffany's, this was my best angle" or "during the making of Operation crossbow close ups of me worked better on 90% of the takes."

The rest of us hit our marks and said our lines .

I am from the school of method acting, Brando, De Niro, Keitel, all pussies, I became Howling Mad Knudsen.

One day the director came to me, "Soren, I just don't think you're feeling the character, the man has been to war, hes seen things he shouldn't have seen, they all have but Howling mad, took it worse."

Its true I wasn't feeling my character, how come the Vietnam vet ex special forces couldn't hit anything they shot at, and no one ever died? was this why they lost Nam? plus my fake American accent was on power with Madonna's fake British one, the director finished with these words,"George thinks you should be more loopy." I didn't understand as character was up in a plane not chasing Charlie doon tunnels, why was he the crazy one? maybe a chemical imbalance?

What was with Mr T's chains? did he wear those in the jungle? oh no its a little bodybuilder with excessive jewelry quietly creeping up on us, camouflage lad shape, shine, surface and silhouette.

I went home for the day and thought about it all, I rented out Apocalypse now, One flew over the Cuckoos nest and Chitty chitty bang bang, I was going to become Howling mad Knudsen and become the breakout character of the 80's, this was going to make me bigger than Rocky.

The next day I went to the studios with a plastic bag filled with acting prop. I hid behind my entrance mark and prepared myself with prop on cue I ran out, my face covered in my own feces, licking it from my fingers and clucking like a chicken, I then jumped onto George Peppard's leg and started to dry hump it.

I had become Captain B.B. Howling Mad Knudsen, I was the greatest actor in the world.

After they fired me and I got out of the mental hospital hospital I heard that a Dwight Schultz had gotten my role and was now Howling Mad Murdock, he was somewhat successful and I hold no grudges, even though his name sounds like a nazi or something, that fucker.

Face had a nervous breakdown after seeing me rape George Peppard's leg and was replaced by Dirk Benedict. Peppard called me several times after that asking me out, I had to change my number, they just didn't understand the art that is acting.

Caravan Of love.

Sex, Drama, Passion and the mention of Old Knudsen's dripping cock.





One day in our village we heard the tinkling of metal and the clip clopping of horses. I rushed to the window and looked out to see the gayly painted caravans, "the Gypsies are coming Mummy the Gypsies are coming" then I rushed outside and skipped along side the road, very odd behaviour as my mother lives in her retirement bungalow doon in Newquay.

The villagers looked worried and held their children close to them, laws prohibiting the existence of Gypsies, Gyppos,Pikeys,Knackers,Tinkers,Travelers,Kale,Romnichals or Romany have long since been done away with no more deporting our scum to America or Australia we were stuck with them.
Only one person was tough enough to deal with these type of people who steal yer washing when its hung out to dry, rape yer livestock and probably sell yer weemen and children given the chance yes only one person was man enough but unfortunately she was doon in Sheffield at a china painting convention, Old Knudsen would have to do.

They set up their camp in the Barley field, no barley there but the local council had put in some nice skinny trees attached to thick stakes to make the field look nice, the funny thing with council trees are they never seem to grow into real thick tall trees, maybe its because they always get torn doon by vandals I don't know, remember tie the stake to the tree not the tree to the stake.

I knew the complete history of Gypsies, I'd watched a History channel special on them well I half watched it as I was waiting on 'The history of sex' to cum on, what a waste of time you didn't even see a tit never mind sex and I had taped over Star Gate SG fucking 1 for that shite. I walked into the camp my arms laden with blankets, beads and mirrors, I loved the way mirrors always freak them out.



I walked up to this old fella that had a commanding way about him I could tell he was the leader, scrawny but muscular, a sneer permanently on his face and a "fuck off " permanently on his lips, his flat cap told me he wielded power over others, like a less good looking version of me but dirty of course.
I'm no stranger to accents having a fine one meself but I could not understand half the shite this guy said he handed out my goods and blurted out strange Gyppo words like I-pod and X-box I was at a loss and so was he.


We sat doon by the camp fire and drank some strange alcoholic brew out of jars I kept the children entertained by jiggling my hoose keys at them, a simple people to be sure then it happened.

Fuckin Gyppos always start in with their music, this was exactly like the camp I was at.
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To be expected at every Gyppo camp someone started playing a violin, beautiful haunting music everyone started chanting ,"Rose Rose" and out of the shadows stepped Rose, like a young Sophia Loren she started dancing, her large breasts hypnotised me as they swayed and jiggled at times only inches from my face. I knew I'd probably have to fight the strongest braves or hang for 18 hours with eagle claws stuck into my nipples but I had to have her .

Rose finished her dancing and stepped back into the shadows with a cum hither look in her eyes, Silverback as I had come to call the head man mumbled something and waved me on after her I didn't need to be told twice.

My head was spinning from the drink and my knob was dripping with excitement , there on the edge at the camp leaning on the bonnet of a Pikey Ford Fiesta was Rose seductively hitching up her skirt, I went over to her grasping her large tits and snogging her greedily while doing a bit of dry humping, Old Knudsen can multi task when the um need arises.

She fumbled at the tie I use for a belt and soon we were having sex the Fiesta bouncing and groaning in pain beneath us, to be honest I hadn't had a woman in about a week to I was a little premature with eagerness etc, well I came and that's what counted also it would make a fine story to tell at the Pub the next night. The only thing that Rose said during our entire encounter was "fuck" that's when I came, like I said a simple people but at least she did know what we were doing .

I staggered home to find some cunt had robbed me hoose, my TV, Boom Box, Baywatch boxed collection all gone, you can't trust anyone so I fell asleep on the floor wondering who could of done such a thing and smiled at my wild conquest of the Romany region.

I awoke the next day to find the camp had gone, the only sign that proved they were there was the smoldering camp fire, the litter and a big pile of feces like ghosts they were I had to smell the feces to believe it had happened at all, the place where the Fiesta was parked had patches of dead grass where my seed had spilled.



In case you young uns still didn't know who Sophia Loren was from the first picture.

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The Gypsies had gone, I was back to my normal life sans Baywatch but a month later I got a big surprise, my dick dropped off, fucking Pikeys, don't worry it eventually grew back but it was thicker and more curly.