Archive for Writing

Australia Post – Dirty Pirate Bastards.

Posted in Shit That Sucks & Blows with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 4, 2010 by Buck Frain

So Australia Post are a bunch of cunts! This may not be news to some people but it twatted me squarely between the eyes today.  I wish there was something other than whinging I could do about it but there isn’t so I’m just going to sit here being as fucked-off as hell…again. What’s new? 

I went into the post office to get a document certified as a “true copy” today. There are an arseload of locations I could quite easily have chosen to get this done but, as I would have to post the document after, I felt it would be quicker to get it all done in the one place. What I found out when I got there was that on 15th February this year Australia Post had started charging $3.95 per page for this service. A service which had been free until then and continues to be free everywhere else it is provided. 

I asked why the fee had been introduced and was met with an insipid smile and a vaguely uncomfortable I don’t know

I left the post office muttering to myself and walked down the street to the chemist where they happily certified my document without charge. In gratitude I put a couple of coins in the Salvation Army tin on the counter. I like them at the chemist. I wish I could have posted my letters there. 

I marched back into the post office and glared at the postal worker in the hope that my glaring alone would either penetrate his soul causing him to take up arms against the management of Australia Post and start a postal-worker revolution OR maybe just cause him to drop dead from a deeply-felt social remorse. My glaring powers seem to be in need of a bit of work. I paid the postage on my letter and walked outside to post it and swear to myself some more.

WHAT THE FUCK??? It used to be that the post office was there to serve the public. To provide valuable services. To help. I have no issue with anyone making a living but let’s be quite fucking honest. THIS IS SHIT!!! Australia Post is a self-funded, Government-owned organisation. They hold a monopoly over the postal service in Australia and have for the last few years been posting record profits. Furthermore, they have approval from the ACCC to put up the price of stamps to 60 cents later this year. WHAT THE FUCK DO THEY NEED MORE MONEY FOR??? The certification of documents is an important service. Is this fee a bid to simply not provide this courtesy to the community anymore by encouraging people to go somewhere they can get it for free, or is it a cynical plan to exploit even more money out of a captive market seeing as everyone has to go there eventually if they want to post their stuff? Either way it is a thoroughly reprehensible piece of corporate malignancy. 

FUCK YOU, AUSTRALIA POST!!! This decision is mean-spirited, exploitative and downright cunting well fucked! $3.95 PER CUNTING PAGE!!! IT’S DAYLIGHT FUCKING ROBBERY!!! Whoever came up with this idea is an evil shit-licker and my dearest wish is that they should die bleeding out of their arse in a tank full of hungry sharks. Tomorrow. On TV. CUNTS!!! ARSE!!! FUCK!!!

Happy Shitting Birthday! Pape smear, anyone?

Posted in 10 People I'd Love To Smash with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 21, 2009 by Buck Frain

I didn’t get a cake but if I had, I imagine it would have looked like this:

shitcake

This week marked the 1st anniversary of the creation of Buck Frain’s Angry Place. Happy Birthday, Place! One whole year of public spleen-venting…and what a cunt of a year it’s been! I’ve gotta say I’m surprised that people have actually paid any notice to my ravings, it proves to me that the world is a far sicker place than even I had imagined. Nonetheless, I thank you all for your attention, your adoration, contempt and disdain and your comments, positive and negative alike. Ya fuckin’ sickos! Rest assured, there’s plenty of rage left in the tank, I’m just as fucked off as I was this time last year but then not a lot has improved in the world so what the shit does anyone expect?

 

This year everything was starting to look OK for everyone who earned less than $80,000 last year with the government announcing a stimulus package to support working Australians that would see us all get a rebate of $900. That’s $900 cash. Each. From the government…for free! That’s brilliant! It’s excellent! At a time when we’re all pretty fucked, the government actually gives something back to the people who fuckin’ need it! Woohoo!!!

 

But then, a slimy-toe-rag lawyer, university lecturer and former National Party toady named Bryan Pape came along and has challenged this payout in The High Court. BASTARD! He says it’s unconstitutional…and The High Court is hearing him on 30th March! THE ROTTEN, MISANTHROPIC, BALL-GRATING, EAR-FUCK!!!

 

He’s wealthy, he’s a miserable old cock-sucker and he wants all that money – your and my fucking money – to go back to the shitting government! It was ours to start with anyway, it was our cunting tax money! If the government wants to give some of it back, why the steaming-shit-sandwich should that be deemed unconstitutional??? ARSE!!!

 

Well fuck that, I’m not putting up with it! If The High Court knows what’s good for it it’ll boot Bryan Pape out on his wrinkly old arse and tell him to go and get fucked by bikers! I mean, what could be more un-Australian that stealing $900 each off 8.7 million members of the working population. He’d better hope his case fails because if it succeeds  there won’t be a pub in Australia where the cunt can safely get a beer! So, in the interest of public vengeance, on the chance that this ridiculous, mean-spirited old wanker actually succeeds in robbing honest Australians of a bit of relief, I offer this:

 

KNOW YOUR ENEMY!

This is him. And his contact details. This cunt is Bryan Pape, the old bastard hell-bent on robbing you of your $900. Feel free to drop him a line and tell him what you think of his plan! Hell, find out where he lives! Have a shit on his mum!

bryan_pape

 Once again, I suppose for the benefit of those without a sense of humour or who are in some other respect gorm deficient,  I should clearly state: This is not really a call to action. I do not wish any actual harm to come to Bryan Pape no matter how much of a twat I think he is. For cunt’s shitting sake, this whole site is just intended as a bit of a laugh, chill the fuck out.  If I asked you to jump off a bridge, would you do that too? Actually, that’s not a bad idea: Jump off a fucking bridge! I can recommend the West Gate and the Bolte if you’re in Melbourne. Please, for fuck’s sake, don’t waste yourself in front of a train – the fucking things get delayed or cancelled enough without useless cunts clogging up the wheels. Remember, some of us do have something to live for!

Winning The War On Bones.

Posted in Things Rank And Gross In Nature with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 28, 2008 by Buck Frain

We win! Australia, the little battler, has won – against insurmountable odds we fought hard to be leading the world in obesity! Yeah, We’re the fattest cunts in the world! Fuck you, USA, you can eat our convict shit, we’re fatter than you bastards! 26% of all Aussies are obese, that’s four million of us – a 33% rise in obesity in the last nine years. Fat Aussies have been gorging their pie-holes for the last nine years to top the USA’s puny 25% obesity rate. Yeah, they’ve got more fatties in total, but per capita we have the most cottage-cheese-arsed, cankled, wheezing behemoths of any nation on the planet! 

 

Doesn’t anybody find any of this remotely offensive? I don’t mean my ruthless attack on the fatties, I mean isn’t anyone offended by the rampant epidemic of bloatedness? We see it everywhere. My two bosses, The Wobblers, are both horrendously obese shit-sacks. Many of the people in the building I work in have Office Body*, you only have to walk down the street to realise that most people are packing some weight, thin people are a serious minority. 

 

But we’re all polite about it – everyone knows the pain of the fatty, Oprah’s made us oh-so aware of the torture it is to be fat. No one wants to point out to their friends or co-workers Hey, you’re becoming a bit of a chunk, should you be eating that? Woe betide the heathen who dared say such a hurtful thing. You insensitive bastard, it’s genetic, his whole family is like that. Um…but he’s eaten two pizzas today…are you sure that’s genetic? 

 

You see, I think that’s part of the problem – it’s politically correct to tell people they’re drinking too much, or that they should quit smoking, but we’re in denial about obesity. You mustn’t tell the fatty they’re fat, they might feel bad about themselves and eat more! Yeah, I know, the fuckin’ fat cunt might eat YOU, you’re just scared! For fuck’s sake, tell her from a distance, the fat fuck won’t be able to chase you for long. 

 

Now before all you fatties out there start sending me death threats, I’d like to point out I’m not advocating everyone need have chiseled abs and cheekbones or plastic surgery themselves to look like Paris Hilton, that’s just another disgusting sickness. What I’m saying is: take physical responsibility for yourself. Be a bit healthy.

  

No-one wants to walk down a street and see a piss-pants drunk sitting there boozing himself into oblivion, nor do you want to see junkies shooting up nor sex addicts jerking themselves off in public. Why not? Because it’s offensive. Obese people are killing themselves with food. I find it offensive to see some filthy, fat pig scoffing into a Big Mac. Most people will walk past keeping their revulsion private but everyone finds it unsettling, even if only on a well-trained, unconscious level. It turns my stomach and I can’t understand why it is no longer acceptable to acknowledge that offensiveness. Even the most compassionate soul has to concede that, on a purely pragmatic level, it’s a massive a waste of resources. On a planet with billions of people barely surviving, these fat turds eat enough each day for a whole family, and in a few years time they’re going to be a massive financial burden on an already strained health system. We all will be paying through the nose to save these fatties from themselves. Maybe they need a dose of reality rather than that second Double Quarter Pounder! YOU’RE FUCKIN’ FAT, FATTY!!! FATTY FAT FAT FAT!!! HAVEN’T YOU HAD ENOUGH FOOD, YOU STINKING FAT CUNT??? What? Chase me, fuckface!   

 

 

*Office Body – a phenomenon where, due to a lack of physical activity, chronic over-eating and a diet of shit, a person becomes overweight or obese and most of their muscles wither away except for a few fingers on the hand that operates their computer mouse. See also Internet Body, Playstation Body or Lazy Fat Cunt.

 

The Dehumanising Onset Of Sickness.

Posted in Things Rank And Gross In Nature with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 14, 2008 by Buck Frain

Ah, I’m getting sick. It’s absolutely fucked. I could feel the lump starting at the back of my throat and putting just the slightest pressure on my right ear-drum this morning. There was just a hint of a sniffle and I just knew that tomorrow I’ll wake up as sick as a bitch, sore throat, snot factory, hot dry eyes and in a cunt of a mood!

 

I don’t suppose I should be surprised, call centres are breeding grounds for disease. The whole place is a fucking bio-hazard and should be bombed to shit. Sniffling, sneezing, coughing mouth-breathers everywhere. Fuck! I’m an obsessive fucking cleanliness freak at work. We have these alcohol wipes for the headsets, I use about five or six at the beginning of every shift. I sterilize the headset, keyboard, mouse, monitor, desk, everything. Who the fuck knows who was here last? And, fuck, let me tell you there are people who work here who you don’t want to share anything with. I don’t even trust the cups in the kitchen at work. Even if they look clean I hold them under the boiling water tap before using them.

 

But despite my best efforts, flu shots included, I’ve caught something. I fucking felt it all day, it’s like a cloud of retardedness has descended on me. Everything is just a little out of phase, I’m just half a step off normal. I rammed my shin into the corner of the bed while I was getting ready for work this morning. I swore like a bastard. Fuck, it hurt. I poured boiling water on my hand at work while sterilising my cup. It fucking hurt too but wasn’t bad, I put it straight under cold water, it probably won’t even blister. Still, I felt like a tool and it was another sign that something was wrong.

 

I finally decided to go home after I sneezed and everything turned green. Not only did I nearly deafen the guy I was on the phone to, I had viscous green mucous all down my face and in my hand. It was fucking revolting. I excused myself from the call and reached my free hand into a pocket searching for tissue…to no avail, there were none to be found. I started to get up and realised that my headset mic was entirely hidden within an enormous gob of phlegm connected by a green umbilicus to my top lip. The nice goth girl sitting next to me actually dry retched.  I am hideous. I went to the loo, with my headset, cleaned up and left for the day. Ah, kill me!

Paw Paw Pocket Protection.

Posted in Things Rank And Gross In Nature with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 11, 2008 by Buck Frain

 So Nick D’arcy has been banned from the Beijing  Olympic Games once again. Thank fuck for that! The little fucker’s lucky his dad’s a fucking plastic surgeon or he wouldn’t be able to afford all the lawyers, and he’s appealing again. What do the poor violent athletes do? How do they cope? 

My joy at justice actually working was short-lived, however. I had a $2 bet with a co-worker that D’Arcy would be allowed to go. I was glad to lose the bet but I reached into my left trouser pocket where I keep my keys and coins and pulled out a handful of Oh fucking hell! Horror. Both mine and hers as I proffered a fist full of keys and coins clumped together thick with the lip-balm that had evidently suffered a packaging failure in the same pocket. Our eyes met and for a fraction of a second I think she actually believed I was being premeditatedly weird. I exited stage left to the bathroom with all appropriate haste and stealth. Please, don’t let The Wobblers see me with a fist full of lubricated keys!

 

In the bathroom I started using paper towel to soak up, wipe away the lip balm. Fuck! There was so much of it. One little tube of Lucas’ Paw Paw goes a fuck of a long way. After scraping all the excess grease of my hands, keys and change I had to wash them with soap to remove the rest of it. I recommend Lucas’ Paw Paw Ointment for its staying power. Three or four washes got them more or less clean, the keys still feel a little more moisturised than keys should. I looked in the mirror. Cunt, bollocks and shit! The pocket! I remembered I still had a pocket full of warm grease. I remembered it because I saw that it had fucking soaked through to make a vaguely cummy-looking grease stain on the front of my pants. I turned the pocket inside out and scraped as much lip balm as I could out of the fabric. The greasy stain I was stuck with. I couldn’t risk getting busted washing and drying my pants in the bathroom, not at work.

 

I returned to the phone room. I paid my debt with the cleanest coins seen outside the mint and went back to work. I’ve spent the rest of the day trying not to notice the faces of people as they notice my stain. Fuckin’ dirty pants-starers! Looks of disdain and disgust, I’m sure tales of my depravity and perversion will fill my foul workplace for months to come. IT’S NOT CUM, YOU FILTHY-MINDED BASTARDS!!! IT’S ON THE LEFT, HOW WOULD I CUM IN MY OWN POCKET??? IT’S LIP-BALM!!! IT FUCKIN’ BROKE OPEN IN MY CUNTING POCKET! YES, IT’S GROSS! I SHITTING WELL HATE IT TOO!!!

 

I should make clear this is not a sledge on a product and that I will continue to use the same lip-balm, it’s good. The truly fucking horrible  thought is that I might have to invest in a man bag to avert future such misadventures. A cunting man bag – ah, I might as well just cut off my own balls! It’s all cunts! I think I’m getting sick. I hate my life.

Nick D’Arcy – Ambassador For A Nation Of Convicts.

Posted in Boof-head Sporto Fuckwits with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 8, 2008 by Buck Frain

 

Fuckin’ sporto jockstrap boof-head wankers! In this country, they are a priviledged class that sits above the rest of us mere mortals purely because of a genetic predisposition to be good at sport. They get worshipped, pampered and paid exorbitant amounts for playing games. It may be heresy to say in sport-obsessed Australia but what they do is of NO benefit to society. I don’t really care about any of that, what really shits my bed is that the Australian public are happy for athletes to flout the law, behave like reprobates and still be held up in the international sphere as paragons of our society.

 

Nick D’Arcy, the swimmer charged with assault over breaking another athlete’s cheek, jaw and palate when drunk and full of himself, looks as though he’ll still be going to represent Australia at the Beijing Olympics. The AOC and The Court of Arbitration For Sport are tying themselves up in knots trying to find a decent justification for letting him go that won’t make them look like the supporters of criminal violence that they are. I was disgusted to read this piece of apologist bullshit in The Age, desperately trying to illicit sympathy for a man who should be in prison rather than being endorsed as a cultural ambassador of his country.

 

The AOC is obliged to consider the consequences for D’Arcy if he is booted out. Cyclist Jobie Dajka was kicked out of the Athens team in 2004 after lying to a drug inquiry. Three years of depression and alcoholism ensued, and a suspended jail term for an assault on a cycling coach. “I was drinking six litres of wine a day to numb the pain,” Dajka said last month.

 

What the fuck was that? If he’s punished he might become a sad, violent substance abuser? Big fucking deal! He’s already a violent substance abuser, the only difference is he might get sad. What? Don’t most criminals become depressed when punished for their offences? Is that because punishment is not nice? Why is it we don’t feel sorry for ordinary crims? Could it be because the lousy fucks aren’t any good at sport? Yeah, what fucking losers!

 

What the ball-chafing fuck is wrong with this country? It’s Newton’s Third Law, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Just because sportspeople are too thick to be able to comprehend the consequences of their actions does not mean they should be exempt from those consequences. Yes, people fuck up. But the way people learn to not fuck up is through consequences. If a normal person gets drunk and smashes another person’s skull in a momentary fit of drunken rage, they go to prison. Any average crim would get laughed at if they said, Yeah, sorry I bashed him but can I still go to that sports carnival? The judge would say No, fucktard, you cannot. You can get a jolly good rogering from your cellmate for a couple of years while you learn to control yourself?

 

I’m well aware Nick D’Arcy probably feels pretty bad about what he’s done, as he fuckin’ well should, but I’d wager that most of why he feels bad is because he stands to lose something he cares about. Punishment has no meaning if it doesn’t hurt, so fuck him! 

 

The AOC needs to get its shit together and take a hard line on boof-head Nick D’Arcy. He’s a fucking criminal and, good athlete or not, he shouldn’t represent Australia in Beijing. If he does, we might as well teach our children to fight and tell them that bullying is fine if you’re good at sport. We might as well make certain our kids forget everything in their lives except sport because if you’re good at sport you can bash and rape your way through life with impunity. This is Australia. We’re convicts. Get fucked!!!


You’ve Got Buckley’s.

Posted in Human Stupidity with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 18, 2008 by Buck Frain

I received this yesterday, I thought I’d share it with you.

Dear Mr Frain,

It has come to my client’s attention that you have been reproducing her anecdotal material in written form on your blog entitled “Buck Frain’s Angry Place.”

Not only does this action breach The Privacy Act, as my client was not approached for permission before publishing details of her personal life, but it also constitutes fraud, as you have been passing off events in my client’s life as your own experiences. Perhaps most seriously, you have on several occasions voiced your desires to make profit from the blog. Doing so would constitute theft of intellectual property.

My client fully intends to take swift legal action unless a settlement can be reached out of court. At this stage, I suggest damages of $50,000.00

My client and I eagerly await your response.

Yours Sincerely,

[name withheld]

I’ve withheld the name and list of legal qualifications in the interest of avoiding further legal action and seeing as the persons in question are evidently reading the blog, rather than actually replying to them personally, I thought I might just answer it here:

Get Fucked!!!

First of all, I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about. Secondly, even I’m not stupid enough to think anyone actually makes money out of blogging. Thirdly, if I had $50,000, which I don’t, I’d sooner blow it all on cocaine and hookers and get whacked by hired goons than give you one pissy cent. Bring on your legal action. Bring it! I live for this shit. You think you can touch me? I’m a fucking fictional character. Any resemblance I have to persons living or dead, or that anything in my world has to people or events, real, imagined or hallucinated is purely coincidental. You can eat my fictional shit! Ha Ha Ha!!! My life might suck pretty bad and not really exist but I’m damn near invincible. The only person who can touch me is my author. Ow, that was my eye! Fuck! That really hurts! …CUNT!

In conclusion, [name withheld], I reject your suggestion, I spurn you and your client, I regard you with the utmost contempt, I question your credentials and your parentage, I have placed your letter in my yard and I intend to piss on it every morning this week, and should I ever come to visit your house I will wipe my nob on your curtains.

BALLS! ARSE! CUNT! PISSFLAPS! JISM!

Buck Frain.