Failed Insect

Here at *Failed Insect we don't make stories up for nobody.

So.

Michael Jackson, the man who used to be black, but never went back, was about to adopt a strategy to try and nullify child molestation charges against him - before he moonwalked himself into an ambulance and basically, well, died.

His lawyers were preparing to reveal to the world that MJ did not invite young children to his ranch to sexually abuse them, but to steal their organs as part of his quest for eternal youth.

And.

Jackson's three children were constructed from parts left over from his organ transplants.

*Failed Insect is distributed to over 34 Catholic school girls.

It has come to the attention of Failed Insect that the world is full of people leading less than happy lives.  Some exist in a state of discomfort by choice.  For some reason, they prefer to be disadvantaged.  But even if they have consciously selected such an existence, something must surely have upset them once in order to create such perverse preferences. 

Readers, choose your perverse preferences wisely.

Dear Readers,

At a recent party at FailedInsect, Linda asked me (I have no idea who Linda is or what she was doing there) to write a 'Dear John' email to a 'Phil from Nottingham'. After my eleventh Peter Stuyvesant I composed then thought about smoking the following :

Dear Viagra King-SLASH-White Anglo-Saxon Pussy-SLASH-Couldn't Find a Clitoris with a Giant Fucking Compass,

I struggle to write this. I just can't find the words. There are just no words. How does one describe an impotent, Mother addicted utter loser?

You have aspired for and reached the upper echelon of ex webcam sex partner.

PS:     I want to thank you for giving me a permanent distrust of men with skin afflictions.

PPS:   I used to think that the infallible antidote for poor spelling was to read more. I still think it helps some people. But I also believe now that there’s just some diversity among people’s brains as to how they prioritise the importance of standardized spelling. Some people are just free thinkers who will never think it’s that crucial.

I think correcting others’ spelling or grammar outside of a pegagogical context is just plain bad manners.

PPPS: Cunt.


Love Always,

Julia Rainbow (for Linda)

In yet another blow to my privacy, the Air Transport Authority of Australia confirmed today that they are about to turn over confidential passenger data on members of the Mile High Club to sweaty-palmed staff of the federal government.

Once again, I find my thoughts turning to those great mysteries of the world: does the Yeti really exist, who built Stonehenge, and whatever happened to Iain? The fate of the cheery journalist and imaginary daredevil has perplexed the minds of those of us who grew up with him as he scaled Mount Nobody, jumped over the moon and disguised himself as an honest, kind, generous, intelligent, creative, funny, attractive and all-round wonderful guy.

Apart from his all-too brief sojourn as Host of the weekly TV show 'Go With A Filipino', in which he made weekly attempts to persuade the least drug addicted hookers, actresses or anything that moved - to 'go' with him each episode, nothing has been heard of the intrepid adventurer for years. According to urban legend, Iain embarked on a solo round-the-world yacht voyage after being spurned by long-time unrequited object of infatuation David Beckham in the last episode of the series.

David apparently opted to go with a hoover vacuum attachment named Posh Spice instead.

Shortly after setting sail, Iain vanished and despite exhaustive searches of Cranbourne and Melton, no trace of him or his boat have ever been found. One popular theory to explain his disappearance is that he ran aground on a *former girlfriend-slash-cleaning woman named Tonia shortly after setting sail on his yacht. After several days foundering on her demands for extra drug money and better working conditions, he managed to swim southwards and was allegedly spotted in the saloon bar of a pub in Bacchus Marsh, where he was sighted by a group of animal lovers.  Despite occasional unconfirmed sightings in pubs as far afield as Altona, there has been no concrete information as to his fate.

The ABC did, allegedly, make some attempts to locate him (mainly to try and claim back the $3.50 in expenses he was mistakenly awarded) during the making of a documentary where we followed Iain as he trawled the seedy bars and back streets of South London in search of his self-respect.  Despite suffering dysentery (two buckets) and being bitten by a depressed poodle, he could find no trace of it.

So, if you have any information as to the current whereabouts of Iain, don't hesitate to contact us - with your help, we might be able to finally lay to rest one of the modern world's most enduring unsolved mysteries.

*There have been unconfirmed sightings of two people fitting the same description as Tonia and Iain, in their own living hell, this week.

Leading sex expert Dr. Dixon Cox claims that Australia is teetering on the edge of an erotic disaster - unless pornography and prostitutes can be claimed on Medicare.  Dr. Cox says "it's ridiculous that, right now, if I want to prescribe any of my patients the appropriate therapy, it has to be done in expensive brothels.  Believe me, this is resulting in thousands of sex addicts being denied treatment.  The Australian government has to act now.  As it stands the best free treatment I can offer patients is whacking off over the lingerie pages in KMart catalogues.  Just making them go cold turkey would be disastrous.  If deprived of normal activity, the craving behind sex addiction is so powerful that sufferers could quite literally masturbate themselves to death".

Cat's fur and whiskers.

Desperate Single Scientists Turn To Carbon Dating!

Whatever happened to that guy who whacked himself over the head with a baking tray?

For some reason, the other day I found myself wondering whatever happened to him? (Apart from suffering brain damage, perhaps). Has smacking yourself over the head simply gone out of fashion as a form of entertainment? Or was it more sinister?  Was he simply gripped by an overwhelming urge to try and render himself senseless?  Did he whack himself over the head whilst masturbating, or shagging his wife - or did he smack her around the bottom with a baking tray during the act, (or is this just another one of my run of the mill sexual fantasies)?

'Paedophile rocker' Gary Glitter is finally on his way back to England after being deported from Vietnam.

It's the 'paedophile rocker' label which fucks us off here at FailedInsect. We really don't see why there is any need for the 'rocker' suffix. The man's a paedophile and a very, very dirty old man.

You don't go around describing non-celebrity paedos as 'paedophile plumbers', and there's no category for them in the Yellow Pages. (It's only a matter of time I s'pose).

The media just can't help it when faced with a celebrity paedophile - even an old has-been sex offender like Gazza. They just have to try and make out they're somehow special - and their alleged 'talent' somehow off-sets the kiddy-fiddling.

Cunts.