XYZ Resident Poet, Steve B
Chapter 1
Know ye this. There is a green frog called Ryan in XYZland. Two things to note about this frog.
1. He is green,
2. His name is Ryan.
And nobody knows what magic he used to transmogrify thusly…
Chapter 2
There is apparently, a self-serving, vainglorious Poet in XYZland who is rumoured to be of mediocre talent and few skills. Some have called him (trumpets blow) The Imperator of the Externally Worn Undergarment and purportedly, some of his fans are more interested at leering at his glittery, externally worn undergarment than reading the rubbish he churns out. He is not important to this story and this is probably the last time you will suffer the presence of this farting bore here. Probably…
Chapter 3
XYZland is a nice place to be. It is a picturesque little hamlet situated just north of South East Cucumber, in a quiet valley of reality. A babbling brook of contributors expostulate their way through the hamlet’s centre, while overhead, common sense shades the population from the barrage of cultural Marxist bleating that is forever raining down, trying to punch its way through to ground zero. The streets of XYZland are kept meticulously clean by the busy postings of the XYZ community that keep the cultural Marxists in check.
Chapter 4
SURPRISE!!! This story is really about The Poet!!! O Lordy, the looks on your faces…
Anyway, The Poet went strolling one day in a southerly direction amongst the postings of Trog, Bucky and Dwyer, all excellent devotees of XYZland. In the distance he saw something that caught his attention. He went into stealth mode, executing a ninja roll that perfectly imitated a constipated baboon and fixed his gaze on the most gorgeous set of… No wait, not that!!! It was a lime/yellowy splash of colour that confused The Poet’s senses. Was this a deliberate show of bad taste? Who was responsible for this outrage? What the hell is a TU???
Chapter 5
The Poet mustered all of his bravery and advanced in a phalanx of righteous inquiry. He sent a quick prayer to The Mighty Frog so that He may prevent The Poet from soiling his glittery externally worn undergarment. Boldly, The Poet timidly entered the municipality of ‘The Unshackled’ and beheld great wonders abounding. There was denunciation for all kinds of Moronic Marxist Madness and exposes of Loathsome Looney Leftist Learnings. Above The Poet, the Grand Wizards of TU, Fernando and Wilms cast their laser accurate bolts of truth, hitting their targets with uncompromising articles that disembowelled any semblance of truth the enemy pretended to possess. Just like the XYZ really. The Poet had a wonderful stay and headed for home, determined to tell the good folk at the XYZ about another excellent anti-Marxist source of great news…