Wednesday, 25 August 2010

There may be trouble ahead...

You guys; Why may there be trouble ahead, well respected Denizens of Lucifer and his infernal armies? Tell us you have not baptised all roads in his dark name and caused them to cease being traversable by our mortal automobiles?
Us; That's precisely what we've done, fuckshirts. Find your pipe, stick this in it and puff away.

'Good luck getting to Reading, gaylords.'

Roads are all linked, that means if you baptise one you baptise them all. If a road isn't linked to another road then its called a runway. not a road. As such in the above picture we have proved we have baptised all the roads on this island. This island being the island of Great Britain (aka Mega-England.)

When a road gets baptised something called a 'functional reverse' occurs. Its all very complex and I don't expect you to understand it because you're all notoriously stupid. As such I won't bother explaining it in great detail. effectively though all the properties of the road are reversed. Instead of being black (awesome) they turn white (lametown). Instead of cars enjoying its smooth surface, cars grow fearful of them and refuse to start unless in thick woodland. Instead of draining rain off the roads start to collect rain in underground reservoirs called 'Barcleft-Poisonby Chambers' which they use later in the year for mischievous activities which differ from year to year but cock things up for everyone. Effectively everything goes to shit.

Next week we will do all the roads on continental Eurasia and Africa. Not as hard as it sounds as we actually just have to jump off the ferry in Calais and baptise the slip road.
Look at a map, they are all joined.

If it wasn't true would Tar'lor be celebrating so brazenly in a road like this?
He would not.
He hates celebrating and especially when he has to do it brazenly.
He means business.

("ooh ooh why are the roads not white in that picture and why is your car on it?" ooh ooh fuck off you slimy pedant.)

Wednesday, 18 August 2010

Politically Correct Sacrifice.

excerpt from a notorious BIG song that you haven't heard but does exist.

Whilst we agree with Mr Smalls when he puts forth his argument for worshipping Lucifer, we are in two minds about the latter half of his advice. And we certainly don't agree with the language he uses to describe the fairer sex. Its the 21st century now, not the 16th and women's place in society is equal to men's if not greater. As such the role of sacrificial victim is far beneath them, they're doing shit like being bank women and police women and lawyer women.

But sacrifices do need to be made, however it is possible to do this without resorting to sexism. You can do this by ensuring that everybody gets involved in the process and that everybody dies.
Not just the unfortunate female.

As ever, we provide a pictoral guide to show you how. Because you are useless cunts and need our help with everything apparently.


1. Find some slammin' chick who is damp for the Antichrist.

2. Try and light some candles. Fail because you are on a beach and its windy as a pair of tits.

3. Pose with the candles instead. Because fuck you is why.
"Maybe you won't be able to see that they're candles in the photo and we can say that they're Satan sticks or something?"
Yeah too late for that now.

4. Choke yourselves with the candles, think Satanic thoughts. Place the upside down cross somewhere suggestive.

5. Die.


We're dead. How'd you like us now?
As such, from now on I will only refer to 'us' in the past tense. I've not worked out how yet though.

Many thanks to our Lady of Lucifer JMC for choosing to end her life in such a degrading way with us (in the past).


Tuesday, 10 August 2010

"But don't pray with me, 'cos you're prayin' with fire"

Unlike other deities who do sort of what they like, when they like in regards to answering prayers, our focus of worship not only makes everything we ask of him come true, but ensures that it is a huge exaggeration of what we wanted. Often taking it way out of hand.
This was true recently when we prayed for a fire, because the woods we are living in had gotten chilly. We had built a bonfire out of trees we had chopped down, however we were without a source of heat. Fortunately we knew one person/tormentor of souls who could help us, and gave the fucker a ring.

Here are all the trees we chopped down for the bonfire.

Here is Tar'lor celebrating the completion of the chopping.

Here is Bai' NarghmBuul praying for flame to light up our hard work and keep us warm.

Unfortunately the Antichrist was not immediate with granting our request. The next day, however, we were awoken by a series of painful and vivid hallucinations of Bruce Springsteen cassettes dancing in front of our eyes wherever we looked and telling us to head East. Head East we did and what we saw was a billowance* of smoke drawing us towards the magnificent work the Lord of the Underworld had created for us and us alone.

* "billowance" is a word invented & copyrighted by Bleedingoursouls inc.

The is the sight that tempted us from our woodland hideout to the badlands of North-Eastern Kent. Note how our camera has somehow picked up our hallucinations of levitating Bruce Springsteen tapes too. Technology is amazing.

We near the smoke and throw some horns to show whatever is on the other side of the hedge that we mean no harm. At this point we are 98% sure that it is some variety of Nether-Dragon.

But it ent. It are a field on fire with like 4 fire engines and about 40 firefighters fighting the fucker. (click to enlarge and play spot the fire engines, theres at least one in each picture)

We quickly thanked the Devil for his wonderful gift of flame and chaos, even though it was now not night and we were no longer cold. No need to look a gift horse in the mouth though, especially if said horse is a gift from your boss.

To show our thanks we threw horns at and around the fire.

Tar'Lor showing our visually impaired readers where exactly they need to look to see this 'fire' we have been talking about.

We stood and watched until the human scum managed to quell the Underworlds fiery magnificence beneath their water cannons of gaylordery* then we returned to our woodland lair to see what the human scum media had to say about the days events.

*'gaylordery' is a word invented and copyrighted by Bleedingoursouls inc.

click to enlarge, arse-scrapes.

They somehow knew that we indirectly had something to do with it, from this point on we knew we would have to keep a relatively low profile. They knew the power we possessed, and obviously they feared it.


Tuesday, 3 August 2010

Bleeding Castles

Does that really work as a pun? Not quite. But if you try pronouncing castles like a Kentish oik would, a la 'Caar Sowles' then it does. So pronounce it in your head like that to make the pun work please.

Anyhow, much pent up evil and aggression rests in castles, ask any feng shui expert. A building designed to protect rich people from the poor stores negative energy in ways the meagre tree house we currently live in can only dream of.

No need to baptise these impressive contructions, then. Rather stand about in areas near them and use our oversized comedy cross as an antenna to channel the dark energy into our bodies and then power it into our tree house at a later date. Think of us as Satanic batteries. Except the only thing we power is mosh pits and awesomeness. Oh, and tree houses. Obviously.

Lo, and stand about near them we did.

You have to stand in areas where you think the most blood got spilled over the years or failing that anywhere that looks good when taking a photo. For some reason dark energy is channelled into scenic spots. This is why your Gran takes nine hours to take any photo, its because the Devil's influence is strongest in scenic spots where she wants to take photos and he tricks her into not knowing how the camera works/forgetting which button means' take photo' even though shes had the camera since you were born/being generally indecisive about when to press the aforementioned button.

This local fat person was so affected by the dark forces at work in the castle we accosted that his/her camera skills were reduced to point blank door photography. The worst type of photography. As we approached we could hear him/her muttering "what's going on, I want to take pictures of my family and friends, not close range pictures of these doors" and weeping softly. Nobody came to his/her aid. All knew that it was too late for him/her now.

Meanwhile our energy channelling was going so well that our Brother in Satanic activity started turning into a beige ghost. We informed him and he stopped, the power of the Anti-christ was strong here, we would have to take precautions.

Turning him around worked a treat, all the energy, none of the light brown spectre transformation.

This we assumed to be a very powerful area for darkness. We thought that many must have died here whilst passing through what we assumed was a classic medieval "Chomping arch." Which is of course an arch you try and run through but a big metal grill with spikes on comes down and chomps you up good.
Unfortunately after consulting one of the Castle Guides we were informed that "Chomping arches" were something that "didn't exist" and that we had "probably made up" as "Chomp doesn't sound like a very medieval word to me, boys".
We were then asked if we had paid to get in and where our tickets were so we fucking jumped back over the fence and cheesed it.