Graham Maxwell III

ikä 40 v

paino 99 kg

pituus 185 cm

Hello!

My name is Porky. I live in a small cabin in a place called Lancashire. You probably haven't heard anything about it, but to make a long story short, it's just a tiny village near Portsmouth. I'm also a fat drunk.

My father, Graham Maxwell II, was a great sailor in the Irish navy. And my mother was a cunt. A total whore, if you ask anyone, who really knew her. A marvellous cook though. Then there's my grandfather Graham Maxwell (esquire). Fortunately he died of some unknown type of lungcancer some ten years ago. He was a total pain in the ass. I really hated him from the bottom of my heart. To be honest, the ghost of Graham Maxwell (esq.) has been haunting me since the Millennium.

I've been eating a lot lately. Hamburgers and fries, fish and chips, you name it. I think I have a eating disorder. It's hard to find any comfort. Everyone thinks I'm just a walking joke. Just a mere player in an act of life.

I'm divorced. My lovely kids Shannon (aged twelve) and Harry (aged ten) haven't been talking to me after I got fired from Portsmouth Amusement Park. I was a ferris wheel operator for twentyfive long years. Not a sober day in my career! There was this accident with a boy. He lost his finger on my shift. He was too goddamn reckless. Yongsters nowadays, somebody should teach them a lesson. To be honest, it wasn't an accident. I mean the boy shouldn't have hurt himself so badly. But still, I didn't pull the emergency lever when I saw the boy climbing high on the side of the ferriswheel. Actually I accelerated the wheel and the suddenly pulled the lever trying to make the boy fall. It was a drunken idea I just got to amuse myself. Then the cops came and I lost my job. No more or less drama there.

I have high hopes for my kids but I'm satisfied, if Shannon won't end up being a cocksucking slut like her mother Helen. Ah, Helen... I really loved her. She was the love of my life. I still can't believe she was fooling around with some negros.

Harry is a mulatto.

Really... Helen still believes that I haven't noticed anything. That lying dyke! I hate dykes. I hate dykes, jews, the French and the Irish! Damn the Irish!

My father - by the way - he was a great sailor in the Irish navy. And a unbeliavable marksman. A sharpshooter. Unfortunately he was shot by the patrolling Nazi troops in a village in France. That's a lie. My father wasn't even born during the Great War. He was born 1946 in Dublin. Irish dog! About my truest passions. I really love Pink Floyd. Those uplifting melodies and challenging tones. They really bring me back to my childhood. My mother used to sing me a song written by Pink Floyd for a lullaby. Oh, the warm memories of my mom, the Cunt.













I'm just an old fool... Don't listen to me.