Well, Swipesters,
There comes a time in the affairs of men - and no doubt in those of highly disturbed individuals with Drambuie-based body rub and stocking fetishes too - when they have to look destiny square in the jaw, run a quick mental risk assessment and come to the painful conclusion that, with tearfilled eyes and weary heart, they must bow to the inevitable and accept that the end of the road has unmistakably been reached. Such a time has now come to pass in the affairs of this man (.....or rather of this individual with a Drambuie-based body rub and stocking fetish, if you want to be pedantic about it.....) As such, I'd really like to take this opportunity to thank all my loyal readers out there in cyberspace and to tell you both what fun I've had over the last 18 months posting up the inane gibberish and pathetic gallery of lewd leg shots and lingerie catalogue outcuts that have characterised The Robert Swipe Show and made it one of the most widely reviled and happily ignored excresences to blight the face of the world wide inter web today.
As I said, I'd like to tell you what fun I've had but unfortunately, I can't do that. Actually, if I'm totally honest, it's been absolute hell - every moment has been positively hateful. In fact, if I was asked to make a comparison that would give you some idea of what I've had to endure to get this thing posted up every day, it would be this: I'd have to say it's been akin to having to endure a hugely embarrassing physical impediment - such as a pronounced hump or a degree of spasticity guaranteed to induce a smirk from even the most politicaly correct and priggish - in a playground full of bullying oiks. And that's on a good day. At its worst, when it's really bad, imagine someone undoing one of your callipers and throwing it up onto the roof of big school so you have to hobble up to the playground attendant so she can make a big song and dance about calling the caretaker and how no one's going anywhere until we find out who's responsible for hurling little Robbie Raspberry's false leg up on the chimney - "look at the poor, helpless little cripple, he's DEE-YEVA-STEE-YATED" (she's a Geordie, you see) - and you have to hop around feeling the hateful eyes of the whole school burning into the back of your polyester jumper while they drag Mrs. Trethwilliams out of the local pub so she can risk life and limb up a flimsy ladder drunkenly retrieving your calliper, three tennis balls and a sodden copy of Escort magazine Emrys Thomas threw up there moments earlier when he heard the Headmaster coming towards him round the corner. That gives you some idea, I hope, of the ignominy of it all. As a result, I have barely been able to breathe for the last 6 weeks as the pressure of posting has mounted and the abjection I have felt with every new joyless post, each one unfunnier than its predecessor, has led to the same reaction from the public at large - unenthused at best, but more usually just plain hostile.
The almost comically poor reception given them has become evidence to me that the days of this once thriving blog are now terminally numbered. And all this despite using my recently acquired fortune (...the less said about how I came to be a Turkish lire millionaire(ss) the better - suffice to say if the link between my highly flammable Cliff Thorburn face masks, Archie the Sniper Daschund and the deaths of the 17 people ahead of me in line for the Istanbul lottery hedgefund inheritance is ever discovered, then I may well be back doing this in the near future....) to hire some of the funniest script writers around. Those valiant (and, it must be said, chronically unfunny) chaps who were desperate enough to forsake conventional cash payments to work on the basis of being repaid for their efforts purely in sexual favours administered on a weekly basis by a slightly fading erotic author and occasional televison news panelist smeared in alcocohol (literally alcohol and coco) and baby oil, did their best. But sadly the quality of the blog still has not shifted an inch from its nadir of awfulness. Consequently, being too damn wealthy to give much of a hootenanny either way, it is with some small regret that I have now decided to end this pitiful sham once and for always.
There are some of you out there who have transcended the primeval stew of jealousy and cliquishness that makes up the world of internet weblogging, the prevalence of which has mischievously barred my way to the top of the ladder of light entertainment success. I know who you are. You know who you are. We all know who each other are?...is? So there seems little point in churning out a litany of thanks and we will cut out the backslapping and the tearfilled valedictions. But neither will there not be no recriminations either against those who have thwarted me. I can forgive the selfish, jealous hacks who have conspired against me and chosen to bathe smugly (note avoidance of split infinitive, indicative of classy non-hackness) in their own mediocrity rather than embrace and admire the true original, the la vida loca himself. Yes, they will not hear any carping from me. I can rise above the pettiness of those who prefer the safe and familiar to the bold world of comedy which we here at Swipe Towers have striven to present to the world - we may not always have reached them, but we were always aiming at the stars!!!!!!....
Fear not, such small minded pygmies will not linger long in my thoughts as I plot my next move, attempting to raise the bar still further from the dizzying elevation we have achieved here in such a small space of time. For now, all I will say is this:
I'll get you you bastards - you'll be sorry you ever crossed me. I'd rip my own daughter's throat out rather than let this despicable betrayal go unavenged. Well, if I had a daughter I would. I have a memory like an elephant, you know - and faeces to match - and I'll hunt each one of you down and by the time I've finished with you, you'll......WHY-YI-YOUGHDDA!!!!
So, here we are - at last, the end of the road. Seriously, thanks to those of you who occasionally turned up and had a mooch around before moving on to other, funnier, more original and witty sites (you bastards.....). You can now move on once and for all, safe in the knowledge that you have gleaned all there was to glean here. I know I shan't be missed and I'm sure there will be a step in the stride of all those visitors to the Grauniad Ulnitimed news blogs who will no longer have to put up with my puerile, attention seeking remarks. Have fun sorting out the problems of the world....you should be able to sort it all out the quicker for my absence, I'm sure.
Now, it's really time I should be getting away. No, really, I'll be alright - don't mind me, it's just something in my eye - no, honestly, it's nothing....I've got some Optrex in the car. Or maybe it's Windolene? It should get it out, whatever it is - probably taking half my cornea with it - but don't worry, I won't really be needing my eyesight much in the future now this is all over. What will I do next? Dunno - "what have you got?" Most likely I'll head out on the Rothergavenny bypass and see where it takes me. New friends, new thrills, new spills - you know. "Life in the old dog yet". Yeah, I'll be fine - don't spare me a thought, you go on and get on with your own lives and don't trouble your heads about an old fool like me. I'll be alright pottering along on my own....
Bye now.....
Take care....
Love on y'all,
Bob
p.s. I've got about 40 bound copies of the Best of The Swipe Show if anyone's interested.....I won't have any use for them.....let me know.....
.....they're free.......
© 2006 Swipe Enterprises
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