Stephen Quartermain: A One-Eyed Arsehole
Except perhaps when my scarf gets itchy, in all of football, nothing gets me hotter around the collar than the biased calls of a commentator. And when it comes to unashamedly twisting things to suit their perverted middle-class outlook, Channel Ten's main-man Stephen Quartermain has stamped himself as the full package.
I've seen Quartermain in public. He's the sort of shit-kicking fart-sniffer who, while parading his prambulator around, gives the impression to women of the opposite sex that he's good husband-material. The fact is, Stephen is a dud-root. Worse still, I'd go as far as to say that, while not openly homosexual, he should declare his true leanings.
Too add weight to my assertions that Stephen Quartermain is the living embodiment of death, the 'man' entrusted with slipping football into our living rooms at 17:42 every weeknight manages a smile and a joke from a face that reeks of the arseholes he's been sucking. It is every night, between breaks, that Quartermain manages to refrain from what he calls, "a taste for unwashed anus." Nice.
It is unwashed anus that Quartermain and the likes of him, respected sluts for the big end of town, crave as they haul their slippery bodies up the ladder of success. It's no surprise to me then that Stephen's mouth - a tight and mean opening in the media - is so feared and admired by every piece of arse that should have the misfortune of getting a good licking.
I don't mean to sound critical, but let's look at Stephen's attempts to insert himself into every single opening that is presented to a well-respected brown and gold-noser. Now that we've done that, it's time for a break. Stephen's legs would do nicely, thank you.
I've seen Quartermain in public. He's the sort of shit-kicking fart-sniffer who, while parading his prambulator around, gives the impression to women of the opposite sex that he's good husband-material. The fact is, Stephen is a dud-root. Worse still, I'd go as far as to say that, while not openly homosexual, he should declare his true leanings.
Too add weight to my assertions that Stephen Quartermain is the living embodiment of death, the 'man' entrusted with slipping football into our living rooms at 17:42 every weeknight manages a smile and a joke from a face that reeks of the arseholes he's been sucking. It is every night, between breaks, that Quartermain manages to refrain from what he calls, "a taste for unwashed anus." Nice.
It is unwashed anus that Quartermain and the likes of him, respected sluts for the big end of town, crave as they haul their slippery bodies up the ladder of success. It's no surprise to me then that Stephen's mouth - a tight and mean opening in the media - is so feared and admired by every piece of arse that should have the misfortune of getting a good licking.
I don't mean to sound critical, but let's look at Stephen's attempts to insert himself into every single opening that is presented to a well-respected brown and gold-noser. Now that we've done that, it's time for a break. Stephen's legs would do nicely, thank you.
 Add Comments
|
|
Comments (7)