Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude
Where Great Intelligence Goes To Be Insulted

Sunday, 8 July 2018

Filthicus: Dance Club


I just can't wake up today. Maybe it's from too many hard nights, tankards of wine, orgies, and decadent Roman living! And - jeez Louise, I have nothing to wear today because some barbarian (probly Pete or Jack) - wiped his arse with my toga last night and the slaves are refusing to clean it! I woke up this morning with my skin on backwards.

The celebration last night was for the return of General Quartermain and the Xth Macedonia. They'd been far out east where they captured some oddball slaves and brought them back to provide some entertainment for us here at home. The men play these ghastly musical instruments that combine the worst acoustics of Tupperware, Kazoos, and spoons! And the women (who are not nearly as beautiful as our own) do this oddly captivating and sensual dance that somehow appeals. Oh, gah - here they go again!



What in hell is going on out there on the eastern edge of the 
empire???
The women aren't pretty but they sure look that way.

Can't a guy get any sleep around here?!?!? Welp - I'm up now. Don't worry about that lot, I will have them all whipped and put to work in the stables or the scullery ASAP! But these women remind me that maybe we need some decent music round here - maybe about women that aren't really pretty, but manage to look that way.



That's better!

Up and at 'em, and have a great Sunday!

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