A Christmas Tale (in April)

jimmypoodle — Fri, 22 Apr 2011 14:27:17 +0000

It was Christmas eve and John Smith had just got home from a long day at the cobblers (yeah, he was a cobbler but didn’t own the business. This made him cry a lot because he’d been working there for 30 years and was still on the same wages as when he started). The ground was as slippery as a bar of soap (lol!) and as John neared the door his foot went from under him and he toppled over into a bed of nettles. He never understood why his wife, Cheryl, grew nettles beside the back door, but now it was all he could think about as he rolled around on the ground rubbing his eyes in agony (he got stung in the eyes). Cheryl was in the kitchen baking cookies and upon hearing the wailing and gnashing of teeth outside the door she gave a little chuckle and turned the key in the lock. Getting up on all fours John managed to feel his way to the handle. He forced the knob down as hard as he could then he zipped up his trousers (got you!). Then, with all his might, he turned the door handle but nothing happened. He tried it again. Nothing. It was 10 degrees below outside. ‘What a day to wear a t-shirt and sandals’ John thought to himself. By good luck John had taken his cobblers hammer home from work and had dropped it somewhere near the door when he slipped. He started to paw the ground looking for it, hoping that it would be big enough to bust the lock in. Surely enough, after pawing the nettle patch a few times, he found it and began crawling back towards the door. Taking his aim, he swung forward with all his might. The resulting sound wasn’t quite what he was expecting: a soft, dull thud followed a second later by a gentle splat. ‘What was that?’. All of a sudden the outside lights flared into life and filled the scene with a hearty Christmas glow. It was in this glow that, to his horror, John realized he had tried to beat the door down with a large piece of dog stool. Sobbing, he took up the fetal position on the doorstep and quickly drifted off to sleep.

The End

p.s. John died later on that night. Though not before soiling himself for warmth and eating the dog stool for sustenance.

Watch out, Poodle’s about…with a gun

jimmypoodle — Wed, 22 Apr 2009 10:37:41 +0000

Just sitting here, chilling. Laughing at this photo:

My Brand Spanking New Blog!

jimmypoodle — Tue, 14 Apr 2009 19:13:54 +0000

So www.blogger.com (don’t join them) deleted my old blog like the bastards that they are, all I did was write my own version of Harry Potter, albeit it was a little steamy. I guess they couldn’t handle so much Poodleness. I have to have somewhere to go so I randomly picked here, it looks hard but then so does my penis and I wouldn’t want anyone biting into that if I can help it.

I thought I’d start my new blog with one of my favourite videos from Youtube. It’s a ‘Happy Tree Friends’ clip and the first time I saw this I near pished my little trousers.

I’m not a pervert, not even a little bit. Enjoy!

Again, i’m not a pervert…

Jimmy Poodle's Allsorts (...of crap...)

A Christmas Tale (in April)

Watch out, Poodle’s about…with a gun

My Brand Spanking New Blog!