I AM A FAG XXXI

Well hoo haa we got us a house. Pretty darn over the moon about it really… and although this week will no doubt demand all the money in the world (which of course I don’t have ) I am as always carefree and ftw (fuck the world) because I know in poverty I am one step closer to the possibility of declaring bankruptcy, hello tax-free living.. um. Maybe.

Adding up the $82 here and the $85 there and the $72 everywhere I owe, I am more and more turning my poverty-stricken eyes to the possibility of entering the dirty red world of s-s-stripping. Now although I would (hope to) never sink quite so low (geez what do you take me for?.. don’t answer that..) the calling of money-for-next-to-nothing makes my ears prick up and stand rather aroused.. Let’s just say that I’m not making mamma any prouder. It’s hard to follow in the footsteps/shadow/whatever of a brother with a life ahead of him, a tidy little bank balance and a world of opportunity. Ah well, my optimism may border on the worst case of out of touch with reality ever, but as yet I have not been prescribed anything for this ailment. Hm.

Now moving onwards, it’s the first time in a while I have transcended from one cigarette in a range to another without a pit stop via Marlboro or reliable Choice for a pick me up. So from Brandon Blue I slipped across to Silver. Although I am rarely a fan of silver fags, I did hold a belief that their value for money would outweigh their mediocrity. Unfortunately, as is a common trend with light/silver cigarettes, perforations in the butt allowing for clean pure outside air to be drawn in with the inhalation of tobacco disrupts and flaws an otherwise pleasant smoking experience. To avoid this undesired dilution of tobacco, I have needed to really deep throat the damn things, with the butt well in my mouth and my lips pressed hard on the holes to disrupt the airflow. Nice. Plug it up I say.

Aside from this blemish in design, they’re not all bad really, providing a light feathery kick and a satisfactory buzz. Good enough eh.

Attractiveness of Pack- Like an Ethiopian at an all-you-can-eat buffet, I do feel lucky to have such a bulky, all-giving pack to rip fags from at any desired moment. All you can munch indeed. The all-over silver eliminates any confusion surrounding the strength of the cigerrrs, while also adding a touch of platinum class to an otherwise blatantly cheapo 40pack. Dynamic no. Innovative no. Yet satisfactorily pleasing. 2.5

Smoothness and Flavour- Once the diggity holes have been lipped-over, the true flavour from this cigarette is allowed to emanate from the tobacco and perambulate in the mouth. Smooth enough to caress yet rough enough to get you there. 3.5 out of 5 malignant tumours.

Burning Time- Only to be expected, Silver cigarettes have an unspoken rule of an insanely inconsiderately rapid combustion rate. Rushing off to meet his ex for coffee, I am left only halfway there, panting slightly and really feeling hard done by. Sigh. Of course there’s nothing a good long visit from umm Marlboro can’t fix, but I wish Brandon would finish the job he started. 1 out of 5.

Lingering Taste- Like the morning-after breath of an alcoholic, the taste left in the mouth post-cigarette is putrid. Ass-licking-esque. Like licking the scregs of a tobacco pouch to get your much-needed kick. The only remedy is a visit to Mr Wrigley’s and a fast-paced chew-suck through the mint. Satisfaction. 1 out 5 malignant tumours.

AVERAGE SCORE FOR BRANDON SILVER- 2 out of 5 malignant tumours.

Again, the results are rather reflective of my genuine opinion of the faaagin’ things. They’re okay but not a hit. They are played on the radio for no more than 5 days before being aired only by request. They are in the 2 for $20 bin at Myer. They are the lonely fucks hanging around the bar at 2:40 am. (Shuddup…. … . ) They’re the tonic in your gin. Not the most important element, surely not the most sought-after, but strangely their existence makes life that little-bit more liveable, consumable and enjoyable.

With my birthday drawing ever closer (25th you forgetful uncaring fuckers) I do request nothing more than Daniel Craig on my doorstep wearing nothing but a silver bow around his member. In the unlikely event this is not able to arranged, a wad of cash, carton of cigarettes or life-and-future-handed-to-me-on-a-silver-platted would suffice I suppppose…

“Hunter STOP FONDLING THE DOG!!!!”..

Until next time we meet awkwardly in the street, exchange glances, think “is it isn’t it?” and cross to the other side of the street at lightning speed to avoid finding out the answer to that pondering, ciao.

Missy.

EX.




P.S "The Fame" Hunty+Missy Bday party FRIDAY, 29th JAN. BE THERE WITH BELLS ON. FB for more info..

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