Oops!… We Did It Again (debt of honour)

Erm… hullo there. (This is rather awkward…)

Dear Reader, the stuff that was originally posted here has been removed.

We have done this because said stuff has since been included in one of our published books. We hope you’ll believe us when we say we’re not trying to be stingy. No, this has been done to honour the people who have already spent their hard-earned money on our eBook creations.*

If, however, for some reason you’re unable to buy one of our books, and feel you’ll die without seeing this piece of writing, then please contact us via admin@unbolt.me. We won’t allow our Dear Readers to fade away in the dark. We’ll send you the piece in question, and it will be absolutely free. All you need do is ask.

* Of course, we would be like two happy puppies if you too decided to buy one of our books.


© All rights reserved 2016-2018

A Bad Dancer is Always Impeded by his Testicles

My name’s Diego. Surname the Prowl.
On the pull tonight, struttin’ like a peafowl.
Cannot get enough of this demure goth chick
So I decide to woo her with my party trick.

Yeah, I do the mash.
I cut a rug and throw the scraps.
The muncher mash.
Shake a wicked hoof in cowboy chaps.
Trippin’ light fantastic. No, I’m not gay.
Just want the women and won’t swing that way.

No girl can resist the force of my mojo
When I twirl it about like a loco yo-yo.
Pelvic thrusts and crazy jitterbug.
Yeah, fly to me, my lurid ladybug!

Like, I do the mash.
I roll Stones and I do the Jagger.
The muncher mash.
I wobble my jelly with a ghastly swagger.
I’m the Man in Black, not a dusty rock star.
Just want the women and a hella cool scar.

I cavort with bodies like lightnin’ greased
’Til my arse falls off for the ghouls to feast.
On this night of All Hallows’ Eve
Even arms plop from their gory sleeves.

So, I do the mash.
Through this house of death I dare to tap.
The muncher mash.
My feet a whirl of ‘don’t give a crap’.
In this dance universe I’m immortal Duncan.
Tango, waltz, and freaky hula funkin’.

I twerk on the slab under strobin’ light.
When my brain drops out, a queasy sight!
It skids across the floor like a raw meat pie,
Half eaten, left alone to petrify.

Yet I do the mash.
This lust for her I can hardly quash.
The muncher mash.
My heart’s no more than charnel squash,
For on it she jumps like an undead foal.
I’m left cryin’ a river with the dungfly shoal.


© All rights reserved 2016