pukka.page

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The Bible according to Jamie Oliver

In the beginning, I was creating this pukka meal, right; and this meal was without form; and sadness was upon the face of the diners in my wannabe posh restaurant.

Anyway, first of all I turned on the oven, and the light came on, and I thought "Cor Blimey Guv' nor! That's good." It was in my new restaurant, see? And we'd just had these wicked new strip lights put in. And they were pretty cool as well.

And for the first course, the earth yielded fruit. So I made a watermelon starter, didn't I? Bloody genius, I am. The main dish was every living creature that was bought forth from Sainsbury's, and I slaughtered 'em like the cunt that I am. Defenceless, little animals. I just cut their necks.

Of course, I was having a great time. I said to Jules, "You're having a giraffe, ain't'cha?" Of course, she just laughed, because we were all having giraffe. It was the special dish of the day.

Now, the pudding I was really proud of. 'Cos I was doing this wedding reception, right, I'd made this pukka wedding cake with a little bloke and a little woman on it. I made the bloke in my own image, because I think I look right handsome meself. Even if people do call me a twat.

So anyway, I says to Jules, "Jules, me darling, don't touch any of that wedding cake. It's not for us. It's for our guests." But the silly cocksparrow had already gone and dipped her finger in the icing. She said some bloke had told her it would taste really nice. Dunno what he was talking about, all my food tastes like shite. But the worst thing was that apprently he had been giving it to my Jules behind my back.

Literally behind my back. On me TV show. I didn't realise that's why the critics had called it the Naked Chef. Bastards.

But I'm such a knobhead I'll take her back anyway. She keeps saying she loves me, and I reckon it must be me looks, and not just my money. I mean, all my cookery books aren't just copied off of Delia Smith with a picture of me on the front. They're proppa intellectual reading.

Anyway, enough about this, one day Jules rang me on the dog and bone to tell me that she was pregnant. I was flabbergasted because obviously my dick is so small that I'm impotent. I was like "Have you been seeing that guy that give you that cake?" and she was like, "No darling, I'm still a virgin!"

Well, praises be, I'm gunna be a dad, I thought. Jules gave birth to a lovely baby boy, an' we called him Jason Chris Oliver. I even gave him a little toy sword to play with. What a top guy I am.

I thought I would be a really good father, because such a smug git. But the day I realised I wasn't cut out to be a dad was when I was lifting our Lad and Sabre out of the cot and I dropped him down the apple and pairs. Well, of course he died, and for my sins I was sent to jail for three years.

The judge was really kind, but he was really hard to understand because apparently he was French. Jules said that when he called me 'a jumped up piece of shite,' it was because it's french for 'a lovely lad.' So now I sit languishing in my cold, damp cell with nothing but a bible to keep me company. Which is why I'm writing this story of my life to you now. I think I'll call it "The Naked Bible." Sorted.

I REALLY DONT LIKE THIS BLOKE

What a fucking wanker!!

He's got shit mop hair
He's got fat lips
His tongue is hairy fat and slimy and fucking HUGE!
he's got austin powers style pasty skin
he's got austin powers style teeth
hes got a big nose
he wears shit mod clothes
he is a tv chef
he does shit sainsbury's adverts
his wife has a man's name (jules)
he would win a gurning competion without trying
he's got spindly legs
every other tv chef hates him
in fact, every single man on the planet hates him (and some girls..)
Hes got a shit mockney accent
HIs voice is the most annoying noise ever
No man should ever know what to do with herbs! It aint right!
HE EMPLOYS PPL TO BE HIS FRIENDS
he drives a scooter
he thinks hes gods gift to women
he tells shit jokes
he is sexist
he is racist
he is thick - he only cooks cos he cant do nething else
hes fat
He�s an ostentatious, egotistical, pretentious, over-zealous, mendacious Tosser
I doubt he knows what the above means
he walks like a twat
he earns the gross national product of Lithuania for one show
He spend the gross national product of Equatorial Guinea on grooming products
his toungue is as big as Lesotho
he moves his arms too much
he thinks hes gonna be a good father. have pity on his kid>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
he talks about utter shite, constantly
hes in a shit band
he probably smells of wee
he probably has a tiny penis
he probably molests children
he is probably the world's main distributor of child porn
he doesnt really cook..... he gets anthony worrall thompson to do it for him
I would rather spend a week forced at gunpoint to give Anne Widdecombe cunnilingus than spend one minute in his company

HE IS A TWAT! UTTER WANKER! WHAT A CUNT!!!!
I HOPE HE GETS C.J.D. FROM HIS INFECTED BEEF, OR SLIPS ON A RADISH, OR GETS HIS TONGUE CAUGHT IN A TOASTER, OR SOME OTHER UNFORTUNATE KITCHEN-RELATED ACCIDENT!!!!!!
GO STAND IN A DOLE QUEUE, WHERE YOU BELONG, YOU WORRYINGLY AMOROUS, NARCISSISTIC, SMUG MANKY TWAT!!!!

Oh, and he wanks over the Queen.
No, he does. look....

Jamie Oliver kill birds by suffocating them in Sainsbury's bags.

SMASH IT OVER YOUR HEAD, TWAT!

See? His foods so shit even HE is gagging!

YOU HAVE TO GO LOOK AT THESE SITES

http://www.hairytongue.com/gallery/fattongue/
>>> this is fuuuucking incredible! this bloke is my idol!!!

http://maxpages.com/gazandmacs/TWAT_OF_THE_WEEK
well its not much but the fact that hes a twat of the week is good enough
altho he should be twat of the year, not week..

i cant be arsed anymore
illfind some more another time....