Burnley woman, stay away from me.

Another day, another dollar. That opening phrase is in no way appropriate since I’m poor and pretty sure that Ramzan at the corner shop doesn’t accept American currency. He does however accept high prices for out of date confectionary so I think we can all benefit from that. I believe today is a Tuesday but who’s keeping track? I spent the weekend entertaining my kid with a dinosaur hand puppet and now I’m back to my day job which is basically cutting my own hair with blunt scissors and begging for a job stacking shelves at B & M bargains. Burnley after all is the home of bargains; we have more pound shops than we do hospital wards, boasting the likes of The 99p Store, Poundland, Home Bargains, The Pound Emporium, Poundstretcher and briefly the famous ‘Poundshrinker’ store which actually implied that they devalue your money, which is always a good business strategy. But who am I to point these things out? I’m but a simple buffoon with no sales experience or knowledge so how bloody dare I have the arrogance to reveal these basic spelling errors, such as the rather large banner in town advertising the ‘Chicken Cottage RESTUARANT’ which I am sure is a fine eatery. It’s also good to know that when applying for a job as a proof reader, which for those who don’t know is checking over documents to ensure that they are grammatically correct, I got the following reply.

‘We regret to inform you that you WAS not successful in your application to the job as proof reader.’

Oh I see I WAS not successful well that’s fair enough maybe I WAS be successful next time ‘mate’. Now either this is some kind of ironic grammar based joke or the people working there are producers of books for the illiterate, which I’m sure is a great market. Maybe in hindsight I should have offered a more appropriate covering letter.

‘Aye wood like two erply for da job I hop I was be gud fore it farnx.’

Not that I’m bitter or anything? Nor is it the first time my writing has come in to question over the past month with me receiving an email from a Ms Claire Munday who appears to not even be able to spell her own name correctly (it’s Monday pal) telling me that my c.v. only scored a measly 19/30. A soul crushing defeat which must also mean that the 87’000 word novel I just wrote is totally useless and I should burn it at once. Or maybe I should send said novel off to Ms Monday* asking her to give me an overall score out of 30 in it’s effectiveness as a piece of literature. Also notable is the opportunity they offer of rewriting your C.V. for a cheap as chips £15 which I’m sure has no relevance in sending the email in the first place. I expect a redrafted version of the manuscript returned to me by ‘Munday’ please. I’ll send it off after I reply to these Viagra emails which inform me I have earned an 80% discount. It’s hard to be hard.

Speaking of the book I’ve just finished the 3^rd draft and am now in a position to give you a few lines of it for free, I apologise for the plot spoilers.

‘I found her getting finger fucked in a back alley.’

‘She sucked my flaccid penis for around ten minutes.’

‘I stared at the fat bastard as though he was a mythical beast.’

Truly inspirational words from a modern day poet. I hope you will all send me your cash now to order this instant classic of a book which has been quoted as being ‘the feel good hit of the summer’. Quoted by me…just then. For people expecting any light-hearted humour then you will be sadly disappointed but then again who the hell would expect that from me anyway? What it doesn’t have in ‘fun’ and ‘laughs’ it more than makes up for in blood, vomit and drinking oneself impotent though, so be ready for penetration from my quarter mast dick. All metaphorical of course, I don’t want to fuck any of you disgusting mouth breathers. Now THAT is how you address your audience.

Can I also just say that I am truly disappointed that the News of the World have never tried to hack the Lukat's phone considering my superior social standing? I am putting it down to the fact that my phone is so cheap and old that it doesn’t even have a camera. I’m presuming the technology they have currently is not able to hack such a primitive device. The phone does have a torch on it though which I am sure to show off to anyone I meet whether the subject comes up or not. If they did hack my phone however they would be very disappointed since most of my texts are from the phone company and me attempting to flirt very badly with women. I am a stud after all.

SUCH A STUD AM I …that I use the winky tongue face after everything I say… ;0p...So so cheeky.

SUCH A STUD AM I…that girls sniff my chair when I get off the bus just to feel physically close to me.

SUCH A STUD AM I…that to seduce women all I have to do is gently edge a condom out of my pocket and nod to it suggestively before porking her next to some bins.

Huhuh bbz I’d lyk 2 c ur shewz on ma floor lol bbz lol winky winky cheeky face look I’m flirting isn’t It obvious I’m flirting lol look I’m typing lol I’m funny and personable lol lmfao I’m literally laughing my arse off...my fucking arse at that …cummon bbz lol ur r well fit..I WUD..WINKY FACE…I WOULD*..WINKY FACE..I WOULD*…LOL I WUD RUIN U LOL LOL WINKY TONGUE FACE…I WUD ; 0 p flirty flirty flirt flirt WUDNT KICK YOU OUTA BED..HAHAHAH..HAHAHAHRGHHHH…LOOK I’M AN IDIOT..I’M A FUCKING IDIOT LOL..LOOK LOL..I’M TYPING LOL BECAUSE I HAVE NOTHING OF VALUE TO SAY SO SIMPLY USE LOL AS A SUBSTITUTE FOR SAYING SOMETHING OF INTEREST LOL LMFAO ROFL BBZ KISS KISS..xxxxx oooooh smoochy smooooch xxxxx..smoochy smooochy smooch smoooooch xxxx lol winky face…winky sad face? ; p ( I’m flirting but depressed…I’m masturbating and sobbing uncontrollably lol…that’s cool right?…look I said lol after so it must be a joke…how are you lol…wuu2 lol…I would lol…shoes under my bed lol…they are literally under my bed lol…I want to feel your soft tender nipple in my heathen mouth, dripping with the spittle of animal lust lol…lol..lol…lol…lmfao…lol….I want to split you in two with my 1.5 inch erection…would you like to take some painkillers beforehand lol…lol… lol lol lol lol lol lol lol lol…

…anywhere where was I?

Oh yeah me being somewhat of a stud…a player…a ladies man…a jack the lad…the proverbial fanny rack.

I would hazard a guess that I’ve slept with as many as 3-5 women but who can even keep track anymore? I just can’t crunch the numbers. Excellent news though. I think I may have just found the next ‘notch’ on my bedpost whilst browsing the dating adds in the Burnley express (to pass the time of course).

’52 year old woman seeking someone who does not experience sexual attraction’.

SOLD.

I will snap that up right away, this woman truly sounds like a catch. Judging by her language and request that she find someone who is not attracted to women whatsoever or whom would even consider having sex with her I am filled with optimism…I can tell she is a very beautiful woman. This is the confidence I’m looking for in a lady friend. Please ignore my hideous face…please…don’t look at me…DON’T LOOK AT MEEEEE….I AM THE ELEPHANT MANNNNNNNN. (Sorry John)

The Burnley express is the only source I trust when finding a possible soul mate or sexual partner. I love Burnley so much that I will date ONLY women born and bred here like prize cattle. I am not able to become physically attracted to anyone born elsewhere so if that’s not the case just stop wasting your time right now. I love the thick maroon skin of the mature Burnley stunners, like a faux leather handbag left out in the sun all day. I love the tangerine Burnley chubsters getting their fanny out on a Friday night, squatting in public to take a piss. I love the scraggly Burnley meth heads, all wired up and wrestling with security guards on a shoplifting spree in TK Maxx.

Once I saw a Burnley woman who was so beautiful I wept and broke down right there a beaten man. A man so hollow I could barely draw another breath. There she was, hoisting her mighty frame through the town centre. Her mighty thighs rubbing together, her features lost in a mound of orange flesh and chins. Whispy little boyfriend at her side in his unwashed sportswear and I could of killed him right there out of jealousy. She took my breath away and she also left with a piece of my heart. I watched her greasy lips kiss out words of profound beauty. She said in her husky, cigarette worn voice...

‘EY ...EY I’M NOT FOOKING GOING UP THERE…I’LL GET BLOODY RAPED UP THERE…GET FOOKING RAPED UP THERE I WILL HEHEHRGHHHH’.

Oh lost love, one day I will find you again and maybe then I can find some form of contentment. Maybe then I can learn to live with myself for not taking a chance, for being a coward. Burnley rose you smell the sweetest, you smell of home…piss…and Dove body spray.

To be fair though I think even the sex offenders have a little more class than that and if confronted by this ‘page 3 stunner’ would be shaking their heads in shame and pity.

Burnley women. I love you.

I however am that desperate.

SO DESPERATE AM I…that I approach the charity collection people in town and force them to engage me in long and drawn out conversations even though I can’t donate any money.

SO DESPERATE AM I…that a guy from safestyle u.k turned up at my house the other week and offered me a job as a door to door double glazing salesman because HE felt bad for me.

SO DESPERATE AM I… that when I went in to Burton to look at clothes I couldn’t afford I talked to the salesman at the counter about the different grains of fabric and perils of matching a black suit jacket with black pants in painful detail even though I had no intention of making a purchase.

So desperate am I that once again I have wasted several hours rambling on with no real intent or purpose other than to avoid working out and hoovering my kid’s dinner off the floor. Sadly now the time has arisen for me to go and lift large chunks of stainless steel in order to look like I’ve been inflated with a bicycle pump. The things I do for you people. I will now end this blog with the winky face to make it feel as though you have some kind of repore with me. Let us share this common ground.

; p ( lol

Lukat.