Thursday, July 19, 2007

Winners of the Summer Vacation Poetry Competition

Infomaniac gets a cheap thrill in announcing the winners of the Summer Vacation Poetry Competition.

The WINNER of the Infomaniac Summer Vacation Poetry Competition is…


Worship me

Stevey (aka Smunty the Cabin Boy) wins “What’s Your Poo Telling You?” the book that tells you everything you need to know about the shape of your stool.

We’ll be expecting a posting from you as you document the family’s feces.

Congratulations, Smunty!

Here’s Stevey’s winning pooem:

An Ode to a Traveller

As MJ & C toured 'round the
An epic yarn of smut
In Vegas they fed mammoth
Of dimes and dollars to hungry
Then through a canyon so large, so
They skipped and frolicked hand in
To Jamaica, Barbados as warm sunlight
Down snorkelling backs to starfishes
Mexico next to sample
While old men in sombreros paid 5 bucks to
feel her
Back over the border and to the deep
Awaiting was waiting to put six toes in her
Toejobs and blowjobs in the US all
They jetted to Europe, said so long to the
In Dublin they landed, ignored Tazpig and
Got pissed on cheap Guinness, those ignorant
Over to London they sat on Big
And waited, no knickers, for it to strike
Swam in the Thames, naked, for a
Came out all covered in bogroll and
On to cold Sweden, groomed their pubic
To improve the taste for all those
Down to Amsterdam the filthy old
Candlewax on the nipples, candlesticks up their
Overused and abused, ignored me, ignored
They went home again, home again for a slow comfortable



First Nations (a filthy bitch if there ever was one) wins a packet of HandzOff Anti-Masturbatory Gum and a “Wash Away Your Sins Towelette” as pictured here…

Congratulations, FN!

Here’s First Nation’s runner-up pooem:

Mj went to paris france
bought a baguette for her pants
spread some garlic on her flaps
slapped a french cop with her baps
they kicked her out, she left that day
sunning on the beach, UK,
a car drove up her nether way
I"m not the chunnel! she did shout
as a loaded truck drove out
'C' thought it best to take her west
to show her mate off at her best
but ireland proved our mj's match
she WOULD keep saying 'down the hatch!'
passed out cold from all the liquors
she'd forgot to wear her knickers
swilling cocktails in a pub
all the paddy's saw her nub.

FN, please email your mailing address to me. Stevey, I believe I already have your mailing address from that “Dogging in Dorset” brochure that’s making the rounds.

A few of you other bitches outdid yourselves and your pooems deserve recognition.

Let’s start with SID (Stupid Irish Daddy).

SID had a winning pooem on his hands, had he not made reference to my neck. That neck photo was Photoshopped by Piggy and you know it, you filthy Fenian slutbag. Do I make fun of your bald patch? Or your soft, well-manicured girlie hands? Or your huge fat arse? Or that little problem you have in the?

Oh never mind. Let’s just say that despite his “short-cumings” SID really is quite clever. Here’s SID’s offering:


2007, A summer vacation.

Travel with MJ, who loves domination.

Along with her Tranny, yes "C" with the legs,

And drink from high heels, their batter and dregs.


A crack of her whip, and your hols would begin,

Your clothes would be torn, as you fall into sin.

Your gimp mask unpacked,a ball for yer mouth,

Great North is too cold, I think they went South.


Imagine the frights,imagine the stares,

Of MJ and friend, as they showed off their wares.

Croc shoes, unashamed, and lots of vibrators,

Yes, it was South, but North of Equator.


Now C, it appears, is ever so shy,

With MJ as an escort, I never know why.

Maybe she knows, what we all really fear,

That her urine is used, for Canadian Beer.


No, Jameson's the drink that gets her real pissed,

And gets her all moist, like a Vancouver mist.

No rain in this place, just hot and all Red,

Which sounds like a night, with MJ in the bed.


Her holiday break, no it wasn't a trek,

I mean, how can you walk,with such a long neck?

I guess it involved, just some lying in bars,

And whoring about, in some fancy old cars.


But now she is back,never spending the punts,

Expecting a poem,from all of us cunts,

So where is my prize, you filthy old lay?

Or shall I fuck off, while you just moan... "EH?"

And that Kent, Geoff, can always be counted on for a rhyming good time. See what I mean?:

Around the world in 80 days?
No, MJ did it in a daze.
Wrecked e'en more than New Year's Eve,
Pissed away her annual leave.

The seven wonders of the world?
The contents of her stomach hurled!
O'er the ol' Grand Canyon's edge
And from the Eiffel Tower's ledge.

Pissed in London, Dublin, Nice,
At least we got some fucking peace!
No Infomaniac for weeks,
No cunts or cocks or spread arse cheeks.

As much a holiday for us,
But now we're s'posed to make a fuss!
"We're glad you're back here on the scene,
Our fragrant, wondrous Canuck Queen."

Then there’s Piggy. Yes, the relunctant Piggy gets points just for putting his stumpy wee trotters to paper with this gem:

A haggard old cunt, called MJ,
She travelled to lands far away.
In search of the ultimate cock,
Day, after day, after day.

To Dublin. To Roswell. To 7-11.
To find what would take her to pleasurable heaven.
She found nothing, of course,
Although she does sound a bit hoarse.

With 'C' the sunkissed tranny,
In tow to mop up the muck,
The punters complained it was jammy,
To which MJ replied 'Oh fuck!'.

She's back now, to everyones dismay,
With nothing to show but stretched chops.
We did try to tell her before embarking,
'The foreigners will say you're a crap lay'.

A ruse to enable her to post less,
'The readers will carry this hostess'
Rhyming tales full of woe and humour,
Continuing the wild, speculative rumours.

As for the rest of you, even Garfer, I thank you for participating in Infomaniac’s first ever Poetry Competition.

And a special thank you to IVD who coined the word “pooem.”

Look forward to more competitions (poetic and otherwise) in the near future!


  1. Yay me!!

    Yay First!

    It's all a bit emotional.......I'll make acceptance speech later.

  2. I'm off to win the Nobel Prize for Literature.

    At least the Nobel Committee has taste.


  3. Right, that's the last time I suck up to you, MJ.

    I didn't want to win that shit book, anyway. I'm off to read the new Hairy Poo..ter.

  4. Like everything else in this world this competition was fixed from the getgo.
    I, I mean WE, find it difficult to write tasteless, nasty things about you because I, WE, are overwhelmed with guilt from the Devil and two of the other entities sharing my cranium strongly disaprove as well. They have a real crush on you.

    If only I, WE, would have written a poem about how pretty and wonderful and smart and funny you are. Only then would everyone in my head, well most of them anyway, be deleriously happy.

    I, WE, apologise for any unpleasantness that may have been inflicted upon your inner child and to any and all inbred Irish Crackers in Appalachia including the toothless, snake handling, moonshine soaked numbskulls that fiddled and diddled their way into your family f*cking tree!

    Now why would you say that?
    Because I am hurt and I am lashing out!
    Both of you shut up!
    Will somebody check Donn's e-mail?
    MJ won't even read this crapola anyway you twat. She prefers short, terse, lurid replies.
    You're an asshole, MJ always replies to everyone, she's awesome!
    Oh you think that MJ is such a little goodie two shoes don't you? Let me tell you exactly what I think of her..
    EVERYBODY SHUT UP! Hello! Look who e-mailed us and showed us her...

  5. This is twisting my melon, man...

  6. STEVEY: Carly emailed me to say that you’re running around the house screaming, “I’ve won! I’ve won!” like a little girly.

    Remember to post about your poo after you’ve read and digested the book.

    GARFY: Oh crap. Nothing rhymes with Nobel.

    GEOFF: It’s my fault for leading you on.

    Please delete that email I sent you.

    HE: Contact Shoppers Drug Mart.

    You’ve forgotten to pick up your meds.

    K8: Beware the melon ballers.

  7. Strudel ryhmes with Nobel.

    Well, almost.

    It's a half rhyme, sort of.

  8. GARFY: Oooo...look who's slumming on my blog.

  9. I never slum. I am elegantly wasted.

    Think Keith Richards with a hernia.

  10. GARFY: You paint a pretty picture.

    “He’s the only dirty man I know who doesn’t smell.”
    (Ron Wood, on Keith Richards)

    Thanks for reminding me. It’s been ages since I’ve done a Keef posting.

  11. Your bitches are good poets but bad losers.
    I have to agree that Steve is a worthy winner.
    The next poet Laureate methinks.

  12. "The Details: Compose a poem about what you think I did on my summer vacation and type it into the comments section."

    And just how many cunts actually got close to what you did on your summer vacation??

    Hmmmm??? Hmmmmmm???

    I demand an independent adjudicator.

  13. I'm quite sure whatever MJ did on her hols had a lot to do with excessive alcohol, shagging, and bail money.

  14. Yeah, come on MJ. We need to know!

    Unless it's too sordid, of course. Some of us are a touch delicate.

    P.S. That HE is worse than me/us!

  15. Pah!

    Fucking fix.

  16. KAZ: And where was YOUR entry, missy?

    SID: You know the details.

    I’m amazed you’ve been able to keep your big gob shut this long.

    MAIDY: Why leave home then?

    That wouldn’t be a vacation. It would be a typical day-in-the-life.

    IVD: What makes you think I wasn’t on an educational Dickensian walking tour of London?

    PIGGY: I’ve emailed Smunty and asked him to share his poo book with you next time you get together.

    Fight amongst yourselves.

  17. Congratulations to Steve!

    wow! second!


    i get wipes.

    so yeah, come on, what did you REALLY do on holiday? just a hint? at least let us know when the statute of limitations runs out on it...?

    ya see folks? all this poetry nonsense was just a stalling tactic...her and the elusive 'C' have been practicing their alibis.

  18. I guess you'd fit in on a Dickensian walking tour, what with your bow-legs and all. People would think you had ricketts, but we know how you really got legs one could drive a bus through!

  19. FN: That’s wipe singular. There's only one wipe. Not a package. But don't forget the bonus anti-masturbatory gum!

    Maybe I’ll give you a hint tomorrow. Next you’ll have me writing a travelogue.

    Demanding bitch.

    IVD: MY bowlegs?

    The lorry-spotting clubs have gathered ‘round your house to see how many trucks come in and out your mansnatch.

  20. Oh dear gawd.

    We're 'down south' with the Smunt's again in a couple of weeks.

    This time for a whole soul-searching week. Gawd help us.

    I'll be bringing the Poo Book back to Yorkshire with us, no doubt about that.

  21. PIGGY: By “down south” do you mean the way SID ventured “down south?”

    Maybe Stevey will leave you a “Gift Poo”… see page 64.

  22. We're already planning to leave them with some 'gift poo's'.

    Hide-and-seek versions, so that they can continue the fun after we've gone.

  23. PIGGY: Leave one in his workboot.

    *wonders if Maidy's had a "Postpartum Poo"...see page 79.*