A long, long time ago... I can still remember How that sitar used to make me smile
Starring: Darth Kader (Khan) - Bollywood's inimitable Dark Lard of the Shit
Chewbaba - A Rookie Sadhu that loves the bong
Luke SkyNaukar - Wannabe Chaddhi Knight and Servant Extraordinaire
Dhobi Wank A Noobie (nOOb) - Washerman with a penchant for giving virgin youths hand-jobs.
Scene Uno, Circa 8957 AD: Darth Kader: Who moved my cheese? Dhobi Wank-a-nOOb: Stop airing your dirty laundry in public or I shall be compelled to use the force of my washerman's bat on you, Darth CheddarLuke Sky Naukar: Did you get last week's laundry yet, Dhobi? Darth Kader hasn't changed his Chaddhis in a week and we fear a Chaddhi uprising Chewbaba: Blhahlkjdajasda. Why can't we all just smoke the piss pipe? Dhobi Wank-a-noob: Are you threatening me? Luke Sky Naukar: You aren't Cornholio, you low caste dhobi Chewbaba: Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaah, Chaddhi knight! Eat my skorts, turdburger.
Maybe its time to convert this into a Pootube clip :-O Glossary:
Dang! The traffic to this site has slowed down to a trickle. Not that it matters, considering how many web advertising programs have this blog blacklisted for a variety of reasons, including our focus on gritty journalism, a consistent publishing schedule, and some groundbreaking efforts in Photoshopping.
I hereby present exhibit A. Which is our only exhibit for today. That rhymed Well timed Sing-clap-dance-rap away!
You might recognize her as Manisha Koirala, the 80 year old Nepalese ape-woman who announces a new romantic relationship to whoever's listening every 12-18 months. Some find her hot. Scientists have proven this is because despite the bazillion years of evolution, our primal sexual instinct to mate with a Himalayan ape just cannot be curbed. Which is also why Yetis are petrified of humans.
You're on the blog that says Manisha Koirala is a euphemism for Maneater Gorilla! Prof. Cow Tse Tung will now accept the English Language chair at Ox_fjord University.
I say the word CUNT twenty times a day in the hope that some pitiful excuse of a media-person would hear it and make me infamous too. I even change the pronunciation to KOONT (giving it a Scottish - or is it Irish twist?), but I'm still a poor little anony-mouse.
Anyway, flashback time. Y'know kids, everything I learned about mismanagement was at the workplace. So much for trying to shove a management text by a dude called KOONTZ in my face. Cunnilingus just wasn't my thing at age 3, being the innocent, celibate child prodigy that I was. Fecking koontz.
On a brighter note, here's a trio of Bollywood, koontz I wouldn't mind uh...how zoo we zay eet...le "doing".
L to R: Padma Lakshmi, Meera Gandhi, Queenie Dhody
Now, let me think about this rationally - would I really want to touch any of these bitches?
Padma Lakshmi: Pros: Tall, dusky, graceful(who cares about graceful? huh!? Not me!) Cons: She slept with Salman Rushdie, that circumsized Muslim-in-denial. Actually, that might be a plus point, since Rushdie got done for slandering Islam. Result: Yes, yes! Padma Lakshmi Zillion times Fucksme.
Meera Gandhi: Pros: Is a humanitarian, diplomat, businesswoman and mother, and has Irish blood. Cons: Defines herself as a "humanitarian, diplomat, businesswoman, MOTHER". Pompous bitch. Mother? Some would find that incredibly arousing, but I, oh giver of life, am not Oedipus.
Yes, its a Richmond moment. Luckily, Katherine Parkinson is on hand for uh..ehh...a..handjob. *sobs* Yes, I confess, I have a massive thing (that came out wrong) for Katherine. Mmmmmm.
Result: Coming back to Meera Gandhi, she worries me. First she buys Ellen-whore Roosevelt's house, then she says she's a human-eatarian. I'm worried she might eat me and then buy my little slum dwelling on my demise. A big fat NO to you, darling.
Queenie Dhody: Pros: Uh, what? Okay, okay - lets be nice - has a decent plastic body and doesn't deflate as easily as my inflatable sex doll. Cons: Is a Page 3 socialite, is always in the news for doing nothing, is publicity-hungry, has driven her husband (or is it ex-husband) to near-bankruptcy, is a potential carrier of new strains of venereal diseases (STD for you illiterate ones), has SIDELOCKS/SIDEBURNS that dwarf mine!!
Result: If you want to go bankrupt, funding an egomaniac's multiple plastic surgeries, lavish bashes, bribes to ensure page 3 write-ups feature her, AND trying to find a doctor that can cure that nasty rash down there, this woman is your perfect match.
Whale come, dolphin come, and of course, I cum when I shouldn't. So, to finance a cure for my youknowwhatdysfunction , by means of a trip to a nasal delivery technology clinic, I have returned from ze dead to give ze masses ze discourse on ze Bollywood. Got a problem with me "ze"'s? Up zeur azz. Les Bebe.
Before I start, I bow down to this Shaolin monk, who I now deem as my spiritual, martial and technological master. All hail Mobile Lama.
SIFU! Injuns, please don't pronounce this as "seafood" or mistake the gentleman for a yellow fish as it is critical that this man be kept alive. I know what you're thinking - Lamas with mobiles - not great publicity for a religion that preaches detachment from materialism. Anyway, he was calling to tell me that I couldn't walk around Australia passing snide remarks and abusing people in Hindi, because more and more people were learning the language. Why me? :-(
Lesion 1: How to make a Bollywood flick click So, my Hindi-challenged amigos and amigas, I have decided to share my trade analcyst's perspective of Bollywood, so we could make a profiterole. Y'know what I'm saying nigger? We could bake Bollywood hits man. Forget "building blocks" - we play with dough, like the cash money type. 1) An actor with the surname "Khan" or "Kapoor". Have you ever seen a Saluja or a Kumarathalingam or a Krisnamooteenineholes become a Bollywood superstar? Neither have I 2) Two minute dream sequence in Switzerland, Australia, or the US of A, that took you 15 days to shoot. Its not just a question of perfection - the cast and crew have to shop for the extended family, acclimatize to the hostile environs of say Berne or Brisbane etc. The producer (nameless Mumbai underworld don) is footing the bill after all. 3) "Three is a magic number". Hence the hero and his two best friends make up the coolest, most self-sufficient (who needs a girl when you can have two boys?) funkiest trio across the planet, setting an infinite number of metropolitans ablaze with their boardroom maneuvering by day and party-animal antics by night.
4) Four nasty, badly choreographed fight sequences, with the first one ending in our hero being defeated. He then goes and tries to get India's best martial arts expert, who has now renounced fighting to take up a job as a female impersonator, to train him.
The expert refuses, yet agrees once our hero offers to perform fellatio on him. Sort of plagiarized from "Team America, World Police" and "The Prodigal Son". In the final fight scene, our hero redeems himself and saves the universe from imminent destruction at the hands of ancient Hinjew space-demons. Erich Von Daniken be damned. 5)Fivestray canine vagabonds, with a leader called "Moti" [as in "fatass" not "pearl"], a dog that puts my canine idol, Brian from Family Guy to shame when it comes to intellectual pursuits and superhuman exploits.
6) Six degrees of separation from music, rhythm, and lyrical beauty! Yes, six shitty songs/song-n-dance sequences... ...of which 3 songs are plagiarized from Western hits, and 1 from an Arabic hit. The remaining two are random sequences generated by the music director's two year old son on Fruity Loops, and are sung in a high-pitched voice by any of Bollywood's stable roster of... 7)Seven playback singers! Features a couple of siblings, none linked to the Seven Sisters myth. 8) Eight years of self-imposed exile - the hero leaves home after a quarrel with daddy dearest, promising to carve his own destiny et al. Yes, even the worst, most commercial of movies requires a subtle moral message - in a country that is synonymous with corruption and nepotism, taking the hard route might seem a tad idiotic. But our souls will be saved by Bollywood's timely intervention. Optional Ingredients: a) An ever-obedient servant, named "Ramu", who not only replaces the butler, but is an excellent substitute for a filthy male prostitute. Y'know, just the way the British royals conduct their *cough* affairs. b) A gay director or producer. To give it that feminine touch. So the average woman will relate to the flick. 'Coz no self-respecting heterosexual male watches Bollywood flicks. Women directors could do it, but they're too busy making boring, feminist documentaries. c) Who could forget a villain, reminiscent of some of history's most notorious megalomaniacs who speaks in third person and spurts some of the most hard-hitting dialog with hints of neo-philosophy, nihilism and whatever the else makes people who read philosophy think they're better, yet unhappier than the average human. Exhibit 1: Dong Kabhi Rong Nahin Hota, Rong To Tum Ho Gaye Ho (translates to "Dong ever wrong never, Wrong you is being")
Exhibit 2: Mogambo Khush Hua (translates to "Mogambo Happy Being") Notice the focus on "being", the belief in self, and the like. d)Finally, an "item number" (i.e. soft porn sequence set to porn groove interspersed with supposedly sexy Hindi lyrics), featuring a rising soft-porn starlet. Rakhi, the Idiot Savant is a great case in example.
---
You're on the blog that asks whether "pinni" is but Indian cookie dough?!
Righto, so, what have we here? Shoaib Akhtar, Porkistani cricketer, and erstwhile heterosexual playboy now likes the boys? Well, at least he didn't end up picking someone as blatantly, obviously straight as...lets see...
SHAH RUKH QUEEN!
You really have a death wish, don't you Shoaib? Do you realize how many cocks that ass has been exposed to? Anyway, at least Shah Rukh is finally into REAL men. Eat your heart out, Karan Johar (aka Karen Jo in Indian gay circles).
You're on the blog that asks why the chant "I'm a rainbow too" hasn't caught on in the gay community as a coming-out catch-phrase!?!
Most of my reading these days involves Sun Tzu, The Callgirls Toplist and the like, because y'know, I'm a macho, globe-trotting corporate warrior and shit. Anyway, so I ended up clicking this link to an article about "Nach Baliye", from one of the feeds on this blog, and behold! I am now one of the lucky few who have been exposed to the wonders of this "Dancing With The Stars" themed show, with fabulous dance routines and costumes that make the most flamboyant of drag queens seem like Mother Teresa.
Rakhi Sawant might not be great at her makeup, but her partner sure has learnt a few tricks off her. And, I am greatly distressed here - Rakhi is CLOTHED! That's bullshit man. I want my money back.
Y'know, men get a bad name for being obsessed with boobs. What about chicks who stare at other chicks' boobies? No, that's so moral. I agree. There's nothing hotter than a hot chick that likes chicks. Long live dusky, pretty Bollywood lesbians.
The dignified lady in red seems to be asking something of the Caucasian gentleman to her right...
Yes, that's Salman Khan at the extreme right. He seems to have been watching a lot of Scrubs, since he's started calling all these new kids girlie names. I don't know or care who the other two turds are. What I do care about is the new Speed Racer movie, which is out in 2008. Woohoo! What can I say about the costumes? The guy's wearing a shiny, satin pair of trackpants, with a shiny silver stripe for heaven's sake.
I bet you didn't realize currypuffs had Christmas costumes too. Merry Christmas, amigos.
After all those eyesores, there was yummy mummy Pooja Bedi to soothe my eyes. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
I've googled it, and after all these months no gossip queen has used this witty, and mind-bending (pun intended; does one even exist here?) headline. Yes, Neil Patrick Harris is gay, and I think its great. Because now I can make all those Doogie-doggy jokes I've held out on for all these decades. A burden has been lifted. Takes me back to Time Magazine's Busta Rhymes arrest report, "Busta Busted", "Busted Crimes", "Busta Crimes".
Also, it makes his role in Harold and Kumar go to Whitecastle all the more humorous. Why? 'Coz, the guy doesn't even like pussy. Ah, sarcasm, thy name be Neil Patrick Harris.
Anyway, what did you expect after NPH was caught in compromosing positions with male castmates, such as this:
Labor-leisure theory is a farce. The more cents per hour they give me, the greater is my workload. Strategic management? What's that. Star cows - you're the cash cows - more milk, less grazing, less sleep, consistent output. Management is for Peter Drucker.
Anyhoo, we aren't here to discuss corporate philosophy and whine and bitch and moan. Instead, we are here to poke fun at Urmila Mutt-on-car's fashion sense.
I mean, what were you thinking? First, you have a "pendant" that's straight out of a Morris Day and the Time live set, and then you make a necklace out of King Kong's left eyeball? Must be "Jungle Love". HAHAHA. I crack myself up. Not. These subtle references to pop culture, which I won't even understand in a couple of months, when I visit my blog as a visitor...shame on me.
Anyway kids, as Jay and Silent Bob say, "its the Motherfucking TIME"! Merry Christmas ;-)
1+1 isn't always 2, as evidenced below. Y'know, ever so often I try so hard to come across as a funny cunt, that more often than not, I fail. Miserably. I bow down to the brilliant mind that comes up with one liners like the ones below. I mean, how do I compete against this...
I was a huge Tintin and Snowy fan as a child. I think I've read all but 4 of the Tintins ever released.
So, it makes my heart swell with pride when I see quality, family-friendly Indian entertainment, despite growing immorality across the globe, with inspiration (however warped) drawn from (Herge's, as in this case) masterpiece comic series.
I mean, check this out. Indian Tintin clone with a Snowy hangover, dressed in discarded fabric from a refurbished sofa that belonged to his great-grandmother, with the deftest, most stylish highlighted hair you are ever to see. He's doing something evil to Nikki Aneja, who used to be a real hottie, until she decided to dress solely in fugly, boring Indian outfits, and star in nonsensical television serials about family feuds, extramarital affairs and black magic.
That dude is the antithesis of coolness. What's a MILF like Nikki doing with him? EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.
You're on the blog that asks...what's with this sindoor shit? I mean, its like marking your prey. Analogically represents a virgin's bleeding vagina. Shameful practice. Nothing religious about it.
Spent Good Friday being a Bad Dog, "trekking" warez sites for pirated VSTi's. I want Ethnosphere and Swarplug (full versions) and I don't want to pay a cent for them.
Rumor is that Rakhi Sawant is two plastic surgeries away from a title role in a Hollywood biopic about Amanda Lepore. Great going, bimbo. Another one for the Plastique Fantastique collection.
Is this the first time a currymuncher is playing the lead in a Hollywood film NOT made by an Indian filmmaker? Nah. How could you forget Hrundi Bakshi of Gunga Din fame? Not a Peter Sellers fan, I guess.
Then there was Amrish Puri, who ended up becoming Jean Luc Pickled instead of Jean Luc Picard, losing out to his whiter skinned nemesis only in the final audition, when they realized that the saleability of an Indian (an INDIAN?) space pioneer/leader was doomed from the outset. Live Long and Phosphorus. Poisoning. Fucking racists.
And Kareena Kapoor. How could I forget Kareena. The "queen" of Bollywood. As in, the drag queen. Being an Amazonian warrior princess is one thing, but it takes a lot of effort for a real woman to end up looking like a transsexual, and Kareena seems to have a flair for pulling off reverse gender illusion a little too often for my comfort. Anyway, yeah, so Kareena is now Kar"Xena" Kapoor, following in Lucy (F)Lawless' footsteps. Almost. Kiss a Gabrielle lookalike, c'mon!
You're on the blog that asks "What's the likelihood of Shri Krishna being the patron saint of the Blue Man Group?"
Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna Krishna, Krishna Hare, Hare. Hare Rama, Hare Rama, Rama, Rama Hare, Hare
Great alternative to steel claws. I mean, as a school-kid, you want a decent weapon, right? But, you don't want to be killing or maiming people (unless you're a teenaged American psycho). You just wanna knock them out enough for the hottest chick in your class to recognize you as the alpha male, which of course, means you get to touch her without being done for sexual assault.
Which reminds me, lately, I hear of all these female teachers giving their students blow-jobs and the like. WTF mate. The only blows I ever received were on my ass, with solid wooden rulers, as punishment for something or the other. Why couldn't I have sexy nymphomaniacs who lusted me as teachers? Huh, huh?? Life's unfair.
Yeah, so I was saying, these days, school-kids don't want karras - no sir - but they wear these stupid pieces of waste rubber that companies probably sell for 5 odd bucks, branding them as "friendship bands". What a load of crock. I bet I could carve a friendship band out of a used condom. It'd be a great way to tell a chick that I lust her, wouldn't it? Maybe not. HEY! C'mon! Surely, I can't just toss away an expensive Durex condom after just one use.
Always Recycle.
Anyway, the key issue was not wearing friendship bands on your wrists, but on your waists. I mean, just look at Mallika Share_A_Wart here.
Shrunken, food-deprived Mallika wearing her friendship band on her size zero waist. I don't get it. What's so hot about a 35 year old anorexic slut dressed up as a 12 year old girl?
Give me evergreen teen/ambisexual Preity Zinta being felt up by closet lesbian granny and ugly Bollywood actress, Rekha any damn day.
----------------------------------------------
Harvey Weinstein and Baby Einstein. Someone at Disney reckons they're substitute goods.
Being an ad-free Bollywood weblog - because I put creativity before profitability - you don't see any advertisements interfering with your erratic dose of trivia, gossip, fake news, and the like, straight from a true-blue Bollywood lover's heart.
Lately, there has been a surge in rumors of Yahoo not accepting my application to join their context-sensitive advertising program because of how profane and inane this blog is, or even about Google booting me off the Adsense program because of prohibited activities like fraudulent clicks and trying to seduce their female executives. I categorically deny both of these allegations. The clicks aren't fraudulent. I genuinely "make" them myself!. As far as the female executives are concerned, what can I say? I guess I'm irresistible.
Coming to the crux of the matter, when will these corporate types grow up? All these big internet companies are merely jealous of my business model and wish they could be as profitable as I was. Only goes to remind me of the time I was ostracized by the other kids in the playground because I owned a red Ferrari whilst they had to make do with rickety old hand-me-down tricycles. How petty.
News stories that I thought were of interest, in the week gone by...
Indian fashion designer, Anand Jon is in jail over alleged sexual assault. Why I find this story so hard to believe is because he is one man who can have any bitch he wants. So, a VERY dodgy arrest, as far as I'm concerned. Chicks crave to sleep with this guy in quest of future fame and fortune. I know he's been exposed to assault charges before, but, in both instances, I have serious doubts over the validity of the charges.
What's even more annoying is the emergence of a "friend" who casts some serious doubt over Anand's celebrity status and morality. She's obviously a firm believer in the old adage, "a friend in need is a friend indeed". I wish I could sit on her face and Cow Tse DUNG it. Death to the two pence get-rich-quick whore who thinks she's an instant lottery winner. All gold-diggers must die, bar the ones in valid employment of mining companies.
Now, as Snoop Dogg's publicity agent, and a die-hard proponent of Christzenity, I find that really offensive because Johnny's a good Christzen, and all good Christzens should be humble enough to attribute all success to the Doggfather, even as they hold themselves liable for all failures.
So what is a Christzen? A Christzen is a Christian who practices Zen Buddhism, but of course, and thinks s/he's an ascended being. Christ! What nonsense. Its like saying, "look ma, I'm levititititittating" when all you are is high on your own supply. Don't ask me what the phrase means - I just stole it off an Apollo 440 album name. Yeah, so Christzenity. Big religion for these celebrities. Just like Sciencefictiontology. Why? Because they can go around town proclaiming themselves to be the next incarnation of Buddha. Enlightened avatars. Damn Buddhism. Try being a Christian and doing that. Sooner than you can blurt "I'm Jebus", the Holly Pope, huge fan of the X-mas season and spiritual leader of Ronin (we're talking Japanese religion, remember?) Catholics, will fly straight down to sodomize you in person for indulging in blasphemy. And you can't even complain of sexual abuse in this case, because you clearly asked for it (we all know that Catholic priests won't let go too easily of opportunities like that, don't we?!!)
Okay, enough with the theological meanderings for today. So I was saying, since the Bitch has offended the Dogg, we've decided to post pictures of John dating back to the time when he was a collared, Tartan miniskirt-wearing fetishist in some Western country and wasn't controlled by fat-assed Bipasha. Instead, his breast-grabbing boyfriend seems to be as anorexic as he was, from what I can see of the picture.
Eat your heart out, Bitchasha babby. Question his sexuality like his fans and visitors from Google to this blog do.
If that puts you off crossdressing Bollywood stars exposing their midriffs, here's one for all you Shah Rukh Khan fans, especially ones who reckon he's very "metrosexual". (I can't remember who's blog I stole this off, or I'd give due attribution)
His namesake though, is a sleazy Oxford graduate (aren't they all?) and a fake software and Internet entrepreneur, who's married one of my fantasy sex partners, Elizabeth Hurley. Being upset over this unfortunate event, my nobleness knew no bounds, and I was forced to character-assassinate the "other" Arun Nayar. I think I have hence made a lifelong friend in Hugh Grant, who, besides the non-transvestite Liz Hurley, shares an avid love of real transvestites with me.
Just look at this screenshot of the "other" Arun Nayar's company website, and you'll agree with my fantastic reasoning abilities.
The logo was designed by none other than Liz Hurley's 4 year old, Damian. How enterprising. Just like papa, Steve "Bing" Laden. And what in fuck's name is a blonde, Caucasian chick doing on an Indian company's website? Trying to appease opponents of outsourcing? I have hence conclusively proved that this Nayar dude is a smart cookie (his momma named him MacAroon, HELLO), but is neither honest nor decent.
So, as I was saying, Liz Hurley and MacAroon Nayar exchanged vows for the second time in Nayar's native India, and a certain Page 3 socialite from Mumbai, Parmeshwar Godrej, hosted a party for them. Now, photographic rights to the wedding were given to either People or Hello magazine, and I really don't care which one of the two it was, because I'm not an insomniac and don't need these remedies as yet.
As such, I have to confess that the picture you see is not of the Arun Nayar-Elizabeth Hurley wedding in Jodhpur, India, but does feature them in traditional Indian costumes (sherwani and saree). Costumes for this wedding were to be designed by none other than gay Indian fashion designer, Rohit Bal, who annoys me more than other gay Indian fashion designers like Mannish Malhotra, who's anything but mannish. What a silly name to give an effeminate child. YAWN. Like I always say, "where's Ritu with big Berries when you need her MOST?" Mugatu of Zoolander fame misquotes, "that Ritu's so hot right now".
--------------------------
Celebrity-obsessed netizens across the planet are in a Parmeshwar frenzy. Who is this Godrej person?
This is Parmeshwar Godrej. With lesser known celeb, Richard Gere.
When you have a billion dollar bank balance and a unisex name like Parmeshwar, I guess its alright to be androgynous. Deceptively androgynousmasculine to the extent that pansyboys like the very attractive Richard Gere mistake you for a macho stud. One would think Parmeshwar's lipstick gave her away, but y'never know with Mr. Ger(e)bil lover. Maybe he's into dominant, gay partners with just a slight touch of femininity. You might ask where he sees the last trait in Parmeshwar Godrej, but that's not a question I can answer, coz I'm neither his brain nor his dick. Until next time...pee happy.
It probably comes across in the last couple of posts that lately, frustration's gotten the better of me and the posts are bordering on the vicious, rather than satirical. Maybe I'm sick of catering to the stooges. I mean, c'mon, a Bollywood blog doesn't have to be constantly dumbed down for the dork populace of our planet. I always aim to spread useless knowledge using Bollywood to camouflage the same, but lately, subversion seems to be a failing tactic.
I digress. Lets go off and take a short break from regular proceedings and check out Arab babes who'll give you as much of a high as petroleum-sniffing does. What an analogy. I should be flogged.
First up, we have Aisha Qaddafi. You gotta love a dictator's peroxide blonde bombshell of a daughter.
They don't call her the Claudia Schiffer of North Africa for nothing. And what's better, she is a qualified lawyer who was on my idol, the late Saddam Hussein's defense team. Drooooooooooooooooooooool.
Then there's this other Arab chick, singer Madeleine Matar, ...
who, as far as I'm concerned, is almost at par with Indian supermodel Rajlaxmi in terms of sex appeal and hair color...
...Isn't she a beauty? Anyway, so I don't know why, but a lot of these Arab chicas end up looking like transvestites - maybe its all these gay makeup artistes, trying to make real women look like drag divas. Add a strap-on to the mix, and what have you but a feminine faux gayboy.
Please note, Madeleine Matar's website says "I love you all", where "all" is a nom de plume for none other than the venerable DJ Cow Tse Tung. Don't be jealous - I have that effect on Arab camels and women.
Finally, Zoya Sakr (sucker??), sometime beauty queen and now media/corporate communications hotshot.
Saucy Zoya. Zoya Sauce. I'm on a diet - but sex is exercise. If you need more pictures to jack off to, head over to Arabic Celebrities.
Yes, you, reading this blog. Want to see us dedicate valuable space to your least favorite Bollywood celebrity? Leave us a comment, and tell us why we should feature them. Any ideas on future posters appreciated too.
Chewbaba - A Rookie Sadhu that loves the bong
Luke SkyNaukar - Wannabe Chaddhi Knight and Servant Extraordinaire
Dhobi Wank A Noobie (nOOb) - Washerman with a penchant for giving virgin youths hand-jobs.
Luke Sky Naukar: Did you get last week's laundry yet, Dhobi? Darth Kader hasn't changed his Chaddhis in a week and we fear a Chaddhi uprising
