The World of Sherby57

Because I’m worth it

Casio – The Interview

 

Earlier this year, a book was published that quite literally took controversy by its big hairy ballsack and twisted it into unconsciousness.  That book was How To Pull Chicks And That by world-renowned fannyhound, Casio.  Today, TWoS57 looks to take a look at the man behind the cock in an exclusive interview.

Casio F-94W Digital Quartz Watch

I arrive at the exclusive members-only club, where I’ve arranged to meet Casio, thirty minutes early, so I’m shocked to see that the man himself is already there, splayed across several bar stools.  He’s wearing neon yellow jeans, a vintage 1980′s shellsuit jacket and a tight white vest with “Casio” scrawled across the front in marker pen.  He’s also wearing two pairs of shades (“just in case,” as he later informs me).  I walk over to greet him.

Sherby57: Hi Casio.  Pleased to meet you.

Casio:  FUCK OFF, CUNT.

At this point Casio punches me fully in the face.  After he helps me to my feet, the interview continues.

C:  Sorry about that.  The “Fuck off, Cunt” manoeuvre is an essential part of the PUBE toolkit. It helps to establish you as the BCIR.

S57:  Could you tell the readers what it means to be a PUBE and what a BCIR is?

C:  Sure, sure.  I’m one of the best PUBEs in the world.  Deffo.  A PUBE is a “Picking Up Birds Expert”.  I’m quite literally an expert at picking up birds.  And when I mean birds, I actually mean pussy (laughs).

S57: And BCIR?

C:  Biggest Cunt in (the) Room.  Women love men who are utter cunts.  It’s an evolutionary thing.  They can’t help it.  If you can be the BCIR then the gash will be like a Bon Jovi album: Slippery When Wet.

S57:  (laughs sycophantically) So, how did you get started as a PUBE? Was there a time that you weren’t successful with women?

C: Of course not! I’ve always been swimming in pussy.  And I’m talking an Olympic sized vag pool.  I think I was just a bit of a cunt by nature, so I studied the PUBE methodology to gain some greater insight in my own amazing psyche.  And, I’ll tell you what, I fucking loved what I found in there.

S57:  I’m not surprised, you’re pretty amazing. (Casio nods in agreement).  Are you able to give our readers any advice on how to be more successful with the opposite sex?

C:  The main problem is that your readers – and the vast majority of men – are complete and utter losers.  They’re the sort of men  that wouldn’t even think to wear sunglasses indoors.  But, to answer your question, no, no I can’t.  If they want to learn the tricks of my trade then they’ll have to buy my book.  I’m not a fucking charity.

S57: Fair enough.

At this point a stunning, A-list actress enters the bar. 

C: Right, there’s pussy to be stroked.  Interview over.

S57: Errr, right.  Thank you for…

C: Fuck off.

Casio approaches the actress and immediately vomits over her.  Within 2 minutes, she’s fellating him in the middle of the room. What a guy…what a cunt.

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Fireheart! – The Official Fan Club

Fireheart!

The name alone evokes the sort of boner usually reserved for an illicit sexual encounter in a lift.  The Fireheart stories? You don’t even want to know what they evoke.  You might lose an eye.

If, like the millions of other Fireheart! fans across the globe, you’ve been clamouring for a way to show your support for all things Fireheart! in an official context then rejoice! Now you can join THE OFFICIAL FIREHEART! FAN CLUB.

Members will receive:

1 x Membership card (with official Fireheart! membership number)

1 x 1% off voucher on tickets to Fireheart! World! theme park (Runcorn, Cheshire)

3 x Fireheart! badges – (“Fireheart!”, “I *Heart* Fireheart!” and “I buy all my sofas at CSL”

1 x Pleather-replica Fireheart! jacket emblazoned with logo: “I wear this jacket with the permission of Sherby57 Industries and in no way will break any of the copyright restrictions placed upon me.  I understand that I am NOT Johnny Fireheart and I never will be.  Please by his products. They’re great.”

1 x Antiseptic hand wipe.

JOIN TODAY! JOIN NOW! DO IT! DO IT!!

If you’d like to know more about Johnny Fireheart and his adventures, then please click here.

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The NEW Fantasti-Man

Fantasti-Man stood at the edge of creation.  It was quite warm.

Another Crisis (with a capital C) had struck the universe and F-M had dealt with the re-jigging and ret-conning with his usual aplomb.  He considered it all part of a super-hero’s job, but really it was above and beyond the call of duty.  It was a complete and utter pain in the arse.  When the universe reboots, it’s pretty normal to forget everything that had previously happened in your life; sometimes all those things no longer actually ever happened at all.  You could even find yourself being a different age and with a whole new set of friends.  It was a fashion headache, if nothing else.

Fantasti-Man decided to fly home.  He was sick of these crises and wished that whoever it was that was writing his adventures would stop frigging about with his life.  In the writer’s defence, it has been nearly a year since he last wrote a F-M story and has forgotten many of the characters, storylines (such as they were) and place names in the F-M universe.  A reboot seemed like the only viable option (you know, because reading the previous stories would have been WAY too much effort).  Fantasti-Man didn’t care, he just needed a shower.  Universe-rejigging energy was particularly grimy.

As he flew back to wherever it was that he now lived (he wouldn’t know until he got there), he wondered what kind of arch-enemies would now make up his rogues’ gallery.  He prayed that it wouldn’t be the Fart Smuggler again.  He hated the Fart Smuggler.

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Jessie J – A Poem

Who You Are (Jessie J album)

Jessie J

With her straight black hair

(Allegedly a wig)

Pulls a funny face

To signify

How much she loves

The Music

She does, you know

She loves

The Music

Her scrunched up face

Clearly shows that

Apparently

She’s only 24

Who would have thought it?

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Doug Up

Sourdough loaves

Doug really dug dough.  Both types of dough.  The stuff you make bread out of and the bread itself.  And when I say bread, I mean money.  Except for the first time I said bread.  Then I meant bread.  The stuff you eat.  Hopefully you don’t eat money, otherwise this might get really confusing.

As luck would have it, Doug was the world’s richest baker.  The jammy bastard.  And when I say jammy, I mean that he’s lucky. I don’t mean the sticky stuff that you put on bread.

However, there was a fly in the metaphorical ointment of Doug’s seemingly idyllic lifestyle.  That fly was yeast.  Doug liked yeast the least.  He saw it as a necessary evil at best. At worst…well, you don’t want to know what Doug thought at worst.  Doug’s worst thoughts were so worsty that they made yeast look like the nice parts of the whole bread\money\dough situation.  And yet.  And yet.

Tuesday saw Doug oversee a gigantic shipment of yeast.  As the world’s richest baker it stood to reason that he would need a shitload of yeast.  The reason that he was the world’s richest baker is because he sold more bread than anyone else on the planet.  And that takes A LOT of yeast.  The shipment was, quite literally, a “ship”meant.  And what I mean by that is that it came on a ship.  And not just any ship…it was an oil tanker.  Only, it didn’t contain oil…it contained yeast.  Doug opened the tap on the side of the tanker and let the horrible, stinking, scurrilous, stagnant, erotic, stenchified, glowing, smelling, groaning yeast slide deep inside his yeast bin.

With the yeast bin full, Doug shed a single tear at the irony of the moment.  Ironically, this single tear dripped off his doughy chin and into the yeast bin.  The second the salty droplet of water made contact with the yeast it exploded. Can you imagine? There was a shitload of yeast, so it must have gone up like a fucking rocket.

Doug died.  He could no longer dig dough.  Oh. Oh, the irony.

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