Some things I have said out loud today:
“Flimsy egg!”
“The operator of till number three is trapped in a box with a radioactive isotope.”
“I wish to opt out of hot pants, please.”
“You must trust me because I’m an engineer.”
“Yes, yes, no crimes here, officer.”
“You should be able to identify a grapefruit by touch alone.”
Some things I said out loud yesterday:
“Oh! You’re a little meat vacuum, aren’t you?”
“Am I undermining your authority with this tone of voice? Yes I am, ohh yes I am!”
“Food is an interesting vortex of delight!”
Some things I said out loud today:
“Numbers have no meaning here in the void between countries.”
“You have powdery trousers.”
“A fart dipped in paint.”
“Put that in your chocolate disc player.”
Some things I said out loud today:
“I am a gentle paste.”
“I shall karate chop your bum.”
“It’s the synthesiser police!”
“The secret saxophonist is here with a message.”
“Ah, Dr. Toilet! We meet again!”
“Secondhand salt.”
“Please… it’s orange.”
Some things I have said out loud today:
“I’m a sad little bumblebee.”
“It was a medicinal biccie!”
“J’ai voomy-voomy!”
“Suck the drink from its mouth.”
“That ambulance is full of strippers.”
“If she’s ever untethered, she’ll float across the land smiling inanely at people.”
“Good, British teeth.”
“You can’t fault them for trying, but you can fault them for what they’ve done.”
“1% of our coffee is sourced by orphans we stole.”
Not so many today, but that’s probably because I’ve been very busy:
“High visibility tassels.”
“Sneaky product wizards.”
“Ooh, you did a big boy sale.”
“You’re my new favourite sycophant.”
Some things I said out loud today:
“Spatchcock cat.”
“Murder, murder, murder… run away!”
“The horrible world of marketing.”
“Oh look, it’s luxury coffins again.”
“Why not be vomit instead?”
“The nose dildo.”
Some things I have said out loud today:
(To the tune of the Transformers theme) “Cucumbers: courgettes in disguise.”
“I need to have a bit more of that velveteen sleep please.”
“A caterpillar of white ooze.”
“It weed overnight!”
“Non-plastic breakfast.”
“I’ve been doing hard admin.”
“The industrial cottager!”
Some things I have said out loud in the past two days:
“It is now safe to turn off your hospital.”
“I’m just a blob of human flesh.”
“It’s never a good idea to be known to senior management.”
“It’s breakfast, Jim, but not as we know it.”
“He’s got something of the theatre about him.”
“A gluten javelin.”
“Candy floss or insulation?”
Some more things I’ve said out loud in the past few days:
“A luxury poo.”
“Huff the bed chemicals.”
“Help! Help! I haven’t sent an email!”
“You stupid cantaloupe!”
“I have been outmanoeuvred.”
“Retirement or Switzerland?”
“The problem of ‘The Refrigerator’.”
Some things I’ve said out loud today:
“She’s got the Kryptonite!”
“Everyone knows the upper class flirt using balloons.”
“It’s time for ‘Counting With Sales’.”
“I think you’ll find that’s a premium hole in the ground.”
“Let’s not play ‘Hide the Access Point’. It’s quite uncomfortable and you get very bad signal.”
Today’s batch of utterances:
“Never go in the cupboard.”
“Drop your pants to say you love me.”
“Oh we are so French!”
“Shovel more coal, boy!”
“She’s eating bugs again! No, not your mum.”
“Waffle-faced a child.”
“Spicy mechanic.”
“Barratt Homes in space!”
A few things I said out loud today:
“And thus begins the procession of the Royal Irritant.”
“Lubricate your turkey.”
“Luxury bread.”
“I think you’ll find he prefers to be called ‘Handsome Michael’.”
“A delectable supply of bugs.”
“The incredible twirling lady.”
“Custard strike team.”
“Explosives for every occasion.”
“There’s an awful lot of bananas happening in Norway tonight.”
Please enjoy some madness that I said out loud today:
“Hydraulic dog.”
“Hahaha, I’m driving a shrub!”
“Gesturing with a chaise longue.”
“Drugs are always the answer.”
“Nuclear nipple.”
“He’s summoning Cotton-Eyed Joe.”
It’s been a few days, but I managed to write down some of the madness I spoke:
“You’re eating carbohydrates with no lubricant.”
“Fuck you and your stupid parsnips.”
“A journey of sadness.”
“Friendly neighbourhood Spider-Maidens.”
“A fleshy dribble.”
“Optional sticky trousers.”
“All of my tits are in a funny place now.”
Let’s bring in the new year with another dose of stupid shit I’ve said out loud:
“Oh no! Does she need throwing to a hospital?!”
“It looks like someone dropped their breasts onto a photocopier.”
“An icing bag of coffee.”
“The bacon flute.”
“That’s refreshing down my bum crack.”
“Sneaky tartare sauce.”
“Ketchup launch vehicle.”
“The Love Fart.”
“I thought my arse wax would be more popular.”
“Make the plectrum of hate appear!”
Just a few new ones for you, but I actually said these things out loud:
“My headset has anxiety.”
“Fleshy knowledge blobs.”
“A handy shuffle.”
“Mashed potatoes and singing.”
“I never get nurses admiring my juicy veins.”
Here we go again. Things I said out loud recently:
“The headlight police.”
“It couldn’t have been more Pet Shop Boysish even if the Pet Shop Boys had sung it.”
“We’ve got a handbag emergency!”
“The digital chicken noise.”
“Are they feisty otters?”
“National Express of the sky!”
“I shall take him a pair of spoons.”
“A drawer full of feet.”
Almost a week! I haven’t been good at writing down my madness, but here are a choice few utterances that I preserved:
“I’m the worst accordion.”
“Our bathroom is an expert in Cardassian interrogation techniques.”
“All I know is soft furnishings and glitter!”
“Recovering crayon operator.”
“I am sorry for the existence of my toes.”
Here we go with more things I said out loud recently:
“This hand is wet and juicy.”
“A toilet of cards.”
“Dehydrated cow powder.”
“I am the capri-sun of sadness.”
“No options, only toast.”
“Fetch me my avenging pants!”
This weekend has been good for my verbal incontinence:
“You made good use of my labia.”
“Please buff my leather.”
“Our floor is a cheeseboard.”
“Vibration white anus.”
“Oh no, now my vagina is in the next room.”
“The soft, fleshy credit.”
I keep forgetting to write these down!
“Omnivore of sexual delights.”
“A mist of irritation.”
“Spank off a chuff of bread.”
“Squirt and twirl!”
“The holiday lurks menacingly.”
“An overly affectionate washing machine.”
“Chisel off somebody’s herpes.”
“Turgid potatoes.”
Let’s go for another round of things I actually said in front of other people:
“A square with dead eyes.”
“Sesame Street for accountants.”
“Wanking off into a cupboard?”
“It squirts! It squirts! The shame!”
“We’re little fuckbaskets!”
“Disaster drizzle.”
“The poo that woke me up.”
Oh dear, there have been a few utterances in the last day:
“My father was a Pringle before me, and his father was a Pringle before him.”
“Crisply homosexual.”
“Coughing like pensioners at the P&O buffet.”
“It’s a beautiful desk and also an anti-aircraft facility.”
“Pre-chewed wind.”
“Scrolly-scrolly bum-bum.”
“Throat-hole kazoo.”
“Queen Victoria’s flaccid penis.”
“Would you like to hold my sweaty crotch box.”
It’s been a busy day for my verbal incontinence:
“Get on Grindr for hot police officers in your area.”
“The machine that tortures oranges.”
“Oh no, a bit of my insides have fallen out.”
“They have a jetpack toilet!”
“Toilet gremlin is watching you pee.”
“You don’t want to have a Covid baby squirted into you?”
“The didgeridoo is singing.”
“The ancient Nordic shuttle bus!”
“This is so awful, I’ve been paralysed from the mind down.”
Captain, the rate of nonsense per minute is increasing!
“You can never be too sure with those Dutch lesbians.”
“It’s the worst Mr. Whippy.”
“An angel that’s very confident with their body.”
“The giant eye! It wants to know the flavour of your toothpaste!”
“It’s a door with personal space issues.”
“A wet slop of a new cow.”
“I shall just gently remove the mask from my bottom.”
“Nose bag bandana.”
“Why don’t we just flavour the microplastics and have them as a nice meal?”
Oh yikes, it’s only been 8 hours since the last batch. NFC is bringing out all my verbal garbage:
“One Norwegian at a time please.”
“Ghengis Khan was a busy boy.”
“I also squirt sausage juice from the side of my mouth.”
“You might be the mildest man alive.”
“It’s the Slap-Chop® Battery Pack!”
“Go-Go-Gadget Waitress.”
“It’s nun o’clock.”
“A set of genital windchimes.”
“It’s too early for niceness!”
You know you want some more:
“The yucky man containment zone.”
“A park for the dead.”
“Concrete pigeon.”
“Everyone swapping body parts.”
“Going through mattresses at a rate of one a week.”
“They’re like fuzzy kidneys.”
“I want to suckle upon the water teat.”
“Do you want your bottom brushing?”
“Fresh, delicious, crispy mask.”
“I’m just making balaclava kebabs here.”
And now we continue the list of nonsense I said today:
“You’re not taking into account my needs as a selfish person!”
“Ow! That little bit of poo poo hit me in the face.”
“I have an urgent need to write gibberish.”
“Organic, home grown fluff.”
“Are you going to eat its little flowery hat?”
“These roasted almonds are going to make a fine replacement for my teeth.”
“You can’t have poffertjes without poffers!”
“I’m not going grey, it’s just icing sugar.”
“Slightly less tasty trousers.”
Busy day today…
“They attacked us with pianos.”
“The creaky, farty lift.”
“Can I have some more - I do not wish to reach between your legs.”
“It’s my hole, I can make it as deep as I want.”
“Is that a blåhaj between your legs or are you just pleased to see me?”
“If you get up, my feet are going to fly apart.”
“A bus for people who couldn’t keep it in their trousers - The Sex Offenders’ Express.”
“Your lynx bottom made me sneeze.”
“The incredible dildo sword.”
“A pathetic little dribble.”
Last day of NFC gold:
“The glasses are not tempted.”
“I shall put myself in the crevice again.”
“You can borrow my little pump if you like.”
“That bird has flapnips.”
“A fursuit that farts cinnamon buns.”
“Incoherent semla noises.”
“The cream cake buttplug.”
“Miley Cyrus’ wet towel.”
“Sweat Air sounds like a really bad airline.”
“How does my hole look?”
“I need to get some in your underpants.”
“Squeeze for cheese!”
The company I keep causes these words to keep erupting forth:
“Keeping cottage cheese for later in the fridge.”
“Have a look at my little shrinker.”
“A socially distant hickey machine.”
“Are you ready for suction?”
“The bag of sweat.”
“He’s going to go see a man about a vacuum cleaner.”
“Air mattress air defense system.”
“It’s Foodora the Explorer.”
“Thank you very much for sharing with me your cucumbers.”
“The dancing plant-pot.”
“His is in his armpit.”
@twll And then I end up arranging them in my head >.>
He's going to see a man about a vacuum cleaner.
Are you ready for suction?
what is it? A socially distant hickey machine? Or an air mattress air defense system?
Heading home now, perhaps the volume of madness will slow:
“I would like to go full cow please.”
“A birthday thing they seem to be banging into their crotch.”
“Get off, Toblerone!”
“The structural integrity of these eggs leaves something to be desired.”
“It seems to be heat resistant bread.”
“It’s feeding time for piggy!”
“We don’t even like homeless pigeons.”
“The coffin sign.”
“Am I peeling?”
“When I grow up, I want to be a real Zamboni!”
“She seems to be wearing a Karen Helmet.”
It would seem that I continue to emit audible madness:
“What’s for dinner, mother? A shoe!”
“I made the beetroot fancy!”
“The ballsack of Norway.”
“It’s punishment bread.”
“Let’s just compare armpits.”
“Pokey stick fun.”
“Repent sexily!”
“I’m gently fapping my socks.”
“I just felt a gentle glance from the Netherlands.”
“Running around like a maypole.”
“Soft, pulpy brainmeats.”
Another good day for spoken madness:
“The gayest peppercorns.”
“If you squeeze the middle, it becomes a bit firmer.”
“Haunted by the Ghost of Garlic Bread Past.”
“At least it involved a buttplug.”
“Bendy old lady fart ceremony.”
“And now my child looks like a colourful pincushion.”
“Can you smell this elephant piss?”
“Hanging on by the thread of a jazz flute.”
“I’m just cottaging in Narnia.”
“Better than a poke in the eye with an electric whisk.”
“Let’s take a look in the Wanking Zoo.”
Wheeeeeee! I’m a nonsense factory!
“Soggy August.”
“They had detected a fresh turd.”
“The final boss of corduroy.”
“I got bamboozled by tampons.”
“A terrible incident at the gravy factory.”
“The human body is a tube for food.”
“Poo always finds a way.”
“A series of homosexual noises.”
“Well look at you with your fine elbows.”
“Licking the moose.”
Wordtumble:
“Sexy cod.”
“I’m ever so sorry, but I seem to have sprayed across your shoulder.”
“A platter of beige.”
“How else am I supposed to pick up field mice?”
“I don’t like to be confused by the things I put in my mouth.”
“Pooh in the front and Pooh in the back.”
“Do not lick the table juice.”
The words continue to be said and heard:
“I’ve felt many gays.”
“I bet they carve a mean chicken.”
“Anyway, here’s a conversation about pickled onions.”
“Shite-seeing.”
“You just need a little light flashing and then you’ll be as good as new.”
“Behold! The anal vortex!”
Please enjoy more contextless cow noises:
“I’m just doing my chainmaille in the washing machine.”
“I shall wear you like a cape!”
“I’ll take no shit from you today, Mademoiselle Traffic Light.”
“He’s a social barnacle.”
“One massive flump.”
“I’m being stalked by the Sugababes.”
Who keeps saying stupid shit? That’s right, it’s me!
“It’s the sound of someone who’s just had a bagel stolen from their table at breakfast.”
“A devastated small lady.”
“The six o’clock shriek.”
“Thick and juicy goop.”
“The Farmfoods of disability.”
“You couldn’t find boobs at a strip joint.”
The noises I said out loud:
“I’ve put some bicarb on a sock.”
“Why does she look like Richard E. Grant?”
“This is a eunuch system. I know this.”
“That’s you being shot in the bum.”
“I would spend the entire time doing one very long poo.”
“You will provide the popcorn entertainment for me!”
It’s been a busy day for nonsense:
“And that’s why I don’t send dick pics.”
“It’s a sperm with a flag stuck in it.”
“The leg nipples of doom.”
“One wet Anubis later…”
“I’m a grown-up, I can use a fork!”
“You’re very soft for a drug addict.”
“The mattress has given birth to a beautiful baby boy!”
My ability to spew word soup is unabated:
“You have to pull out and go back in.”
“My banana went away.”
“Maybe we can encourage cottage cheese?”
“Perfectly normal business operations.”
“The cloaca: it’s USB for birds!”
“Coffee that makes you gay.”
“There’s something very wrong with these eggs.”
Lunchtime gibberish update:
“Please… my beans… they are wet.”
“There’s nothing like a bit of murder in the springtime.”
“Propelled upon a concrete phallus.”
“Use Dove® Burrito Bodywash.”
“I don’t remember that happening in Basic Instinct.”
“Suddenly expletive central!”
I just keep speaking:
“Made with real ass-pepperoni.”
“It’s the reason why my feet are wet.”
“I am vacuum, hear me roar.”
“It’s just some foley artist masturbating in a booth.”
“I have persistence of memory for food.”
“Thighs doing the big suck.”
“Little Timmy can keep his special sauce to himself.”
The nonsense spout flows endlessly:
“It would be much better if one of them was dressed as a nun.”
“It’s a little gremlin with very large udders.”
“New shoes who dis?”
“Apply chicken to the wound.”
“Why is the cat sending us lettuce?!”
“It's a perfectly normal thing to peel a friend's feet.”
Things said since getting up:
“Eye hairs?”
“Coco Pops® are a good substitute for red blood cells.”
“The basic bitch in your soap.”
“Is the mortgage with us in the room right now?”
“Fart in one of Aldi’s fridges.”
“I seem to have trapped a clown in this drawer.”
“He’s taunting me with his penis.”
Dear lord, I don’t half spout some stupid nonsense:
“Domesticated lavender.”
“You’ve got chickenmouth!”
“Encouraging a fresh gay.”
“He’ll Slap Chop™ you to death one onion at a time.”
“Oh no, I forgot to clean this plop.”
“Intermittent Batman fasting.”
“Lumpy eczema disc.”
Words to live by:
“It just doesn’t seem to stop producing poppadoms.”
“The Bog of Insecurity.”
“Find some parent storage.”
“Begone, puny bus!”
“A voyeuristic signature.”
“Everyone knows Batman is ticklish.”
“A place to keep mildew.”
“The sky bullets!”
I’ve been prescribed strong medication… expect things to get weirder:
“I’m munching on Jesus, whoa-whoaa.”
“Three sycamores in a trenchcoat.”
“The workout prison.”
“My ability to construct word is not wording very word.”
“As a society we should be past shoelaces by now.”
“It’s garden gnome season.”
By the power of pain medication:
“Consume the bready flesh.”
“The bin juice prevention system.”
“Men: we leak gas.”
“My lemon king wears Finland.”
“What’s the triple point of kitchen?”
“My eyebrows are really greasy.”
“I have harnessed the power of woo woo!”
“You don’t want debris skidmarks.”
Being drugged up and playing games with friends produces outbursts like these:
“A heaving mass of ham and sweat.”
“An inside out Chicken Kiev.”
“I dropped my mango.”
“Sea twats and sky twats.”
“I yearn for more plastic.”
“I am the baked potato monitor.”
“Draw me like one of your French Presidents.”
It’s Good Friday and the medication told me to say this:
“I tried looking at your bum and hurt myself.”
“A porcelain lady!”
“Drag me through the cleaning corridor.”
“Excuse me while I just hump my way up this mountain.”
“My head stops at my eyebrows.”
“I shall fart on your air quality sensor.”
Did I say stupid shit? Of course!
“He’s pushing the happy out of his ovipositor.”
“Rice briquettes.”
“One lubricated cake later…”
“Some sort of sad sausage.”
“You’re a fighter pilot, ‘Arry.”
“Your poker face is leaking.”
“Those are the gayest fascists I’ve ever seen.”
“Skinless, boneless Skittles.”
Wordguff:
“You can’t gaslight me about my own anus.”
“Let’s speedrun cake.”
“Mummy and daddy are in their cocoon trying to make a baby.”
“Don’t make that arm too strong; you’ll rip your cock off.”
“Pump action salmon.”
“I am an evil temptress and I am flashing my eggs at you.”
“A beef in the queef.”
The words I say, but shouldn’t:
“I don’t trust that man’s eyebrows.”
“I’m Visio’s bitch today.”
“Penetrate the house.”
“Bread for fatties!”
“Microwave this cheese for me, madam.”
“A teeth session.”
“The Scabmobile.”
“They look like vikings that have been combed.”
“Are you teabagging my coconuts?”
My name is Twll and I don’t endorse these messages (even though I said them):
“Nobody wants a potato in their box.”
“Pump him full of cream and cover him in chocolate.”
“It’s just the [1N] actually.”
“You dishonour your hash brown.”
“My switch went squit!”
“Please ignore the sounds of foodfelching.”
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