Hello all, it is time to introduce my loving assistant, Flippy. Say hi Flippy, "GURGLE GURGLE GURGLE", excellent. Flippy here is a dolphin themed cement mixer, that I purloined from a nearby construction yard and decided to enlist in the Crusade of exterminating the plague of exasperating, locust women that have permeated themselves into our pristine society, spreading their caustic larvae and secreting oils that will break down the foundations of our hierarchal structure. IT IS TIME FLIPPY, ABSORB THE WOMAN, TAKE BACK WHAT WE'RE OWED! By utilising a high powered diesel engine, rotating spikes that protrude from Flippy's maws and a paper shredder, that can be activated by the simple press of a button, a female within a five foot radius can be turned into mince meat and evolve into a corpse, yay!

It is an arduous process convincing a neurotic, elderly woman, one that is nearly senile, who continues to cling to the throes of modernity, to enter a cement mixer, that will hopefully, I mean possibly kill her. The matriarch is perpetually attempting to emulate a cool and ditzy hipster, a decrepit millennial, who snorts cocaine on the bus and demands oral sex from children. This is the way of the boomer woman, a being that is eternally seeking to adapt to the alterations of social perception and find herself amongst the upper echelons of popularity. It is the maternal figures deep yearning to covet such fawning that will spell her inevitable undoing. She will do anything to strive for her narcissistic prize, and may even hypothetically enter and be churned up by a cement mixer.

EXPOUNDING TO HER TO ENTER A CEMENT MIXER! USE YOUR GUILE AND MAKE HER SQUEAL!

The one susceptibility of a female is their gullibility and obsessional desire to find act morally superior and condescending towards other, via the use of virtue signalling. As a result, the easiest method of convincing a female to hop into the mixer of death, will be to tell them that hopping into the cement mixer will be violating societal norms and that she will be paving the way to a newfound feminist icon. By spluttering this banal garbage, an evoke sense of self significance will envelope itself within the female, compelling her to commit this act.



Another extraordinary method is to inform the narcissistic caricature of arrogance, that at the bottom of this cement mixer belies a free beauty spa and treatment coupon. The female, bejewelled by the prospect of exfoliating their skin will readily jump in and test my latest theory of transcendence into the afterlife.


An elderly woman's most discernible vice, is her affinity for collecting cute animals and shoving them in the faces of any in the nearby radius. Such, is a weakness that we must exploit. Inform the female that elusive, much sought after photographs and memes of Nyan and Tabby kittens are inside mixer. Why, how can she resist? CATS, CATS I SHALL FORCEFULLY SHOW TO MY CHILDREN, MY PEERS, MY COWORKERS, NONE CAN ESCAPE THE IRE OF THESE ADORABLE FLUFFBALLS! LOOK AT THE KITTENS ANYSAV NOSLIW, THIS ONE IS JUGGLING A BALL ON ITS NOSE!


If worst comes to worst and the female remains sceptical and wary of your ploys, then you may take heed with the tried and tested fashion of lambasting her with a series of obscenities and following such a charmful prose, with several swings of a baseball bat. By utilising an iron studded baseball bat, you provide the female with an incentive to enter her new home. If she refused, you can have some fun and cave in her skull and if she complies, WHY THEN YOU CAN CHURN HER UP INTO A MEAT PATTY AND GRIND UNTO DUST! Note to self, if the female remains apprehensive or truculent, prior to escorting her to the cement mixer, then it may be prudent to simply incapacitate her with the baseball bat and when she is sprawled on the floor, to furtively and surreptitiously place her inside the mixer. If any witnesses envision your actions, then I advise that you be altruistic enough to provide them free accommodation in the very same mixer.


To the dear viewer, if you are obstinate to take heed of my sword and test the theory of evolution in the pretence of life, then may I instead encourage seeking alternative punitive actions, such as beating the maternal figure to a bloody pulp with a shovel and forcing her to choke on dollar bills and jewellery, THAT GLAMOROUS HARLOT!

OH NO, CODE RED, CODE RED, THE FEMALE HAS BECOME INFATUATED WITH THE CEMENT MIXER AND IS SEEKING TO POLLINATE WITH IT, AGH, THE UNHINGED BOUNCY BUN BUN, RABBIT FEMALE HAS WRETCHED MY JOURNAL FROM MY GRASP AND IS WRITING HER MEMOIRS.

Bunnykins The Goose “HELP! I’m dating a cement mixer – advice needed!”

A solid 7/10, this one.


There comes a time in any woman’s life when they give up on men and start dating inanimate objects. Today’s human female has done just that – she went on dates with a series of products, but has settled on a charismatic cement mixer. Let’s see if we can help love blossom into a 20 storey concrete monstrosity.

Cuddles With Concrete


Hi, guys! I'm dating this cement mixer and it's going really well. It's a really sweet cement mixer. It brings me bags of cement every date! I think the idea is it's a present. Either that or it wants me to use it to mix cement.

Cementy The Kangaroo, as I'm calling it, often serenades me with the following love song it churned out for me:

I make cement, but I'm not bent, or an air vent, and the oppostite of a tent. Brap, brap! Brappity brap, brap brap!

I think it's the best song ever! Well... what matters is it tried. It's the thought that counts.

But I'm getting a bit confused... what should I get it in return? Also... how do I, you know... with it? Kissie wissies, Bunnykins xoxoxox

----

Response to Bunnykins' missive, from the branch of affluent Bureaucratic Goats.

Hi, Bunnykins! The thing about cement mixers is they’re only ever after one thing – mixing cement. Remember, it’s a device that homogeneously merges stuff together. If that isn’t deviously perverted, we don’t know what is.

Yes, “Cementy The Kangaroo” is sweet now. But if you’re not turning it on every night of the week so it can churn out concrete slop then it’ll choose its next conquest.

We put it to you, Bunnykins, whether you want to be that type of human female. Is it worth aborting your dignity in the name of becoming an amateur builder? Do you want to spend your days with Cementy wearing a high vis jacket and a hard hat!?

Just as we thought. So, you better GET CRANKING again.

Dating Devices

Our advice is to let Cementy down lightly. Take it to a building site and, over a pragmatic dinner of debris and rocks, tell it you want to see other objects.

The cement mixer might lose its cement after that, but no matter how many caustic obscenities it fires across at you just calmly deflect all insults – also, threaten to turn it off unless it behaves.

With Cementy now out of your life, it’s time to hit the online dating scene! We recommend the apps Lifeless Love, Plenty of Dishwashers, or Profliic Serial Killers Dating. On any of these, you’ll meet charming bachelors such as:

Toilets.
Sheds.
Front porches.
Rear porches.
Driveways.
Trolleys.
Computer screens.
Obsolete mobile phones.
CCTV cameras.
Vacuum cleaners.
Jet propulsion systems.

Trust us, once you’ve had a date with a front porch you’ll swoon and wonder why you ever put up with all that bloody concrete spittle everywhere.

Our final advice is to rampantly date multiple objects at once to sieve out the obsolete products and find the one for you. You can even date your smartphone. You’ve probably spent more time with it than any other human being ever anyway, so why not go that extra step?

Behold and observe in awe, for the woman has evolved from a living, breathing life form, into a decrepit, festering corpse. Simply incredible! Perhaps I was too hasty in my initial perception of evolution, for it is clearly a tangible ideology that may hold merit. While, I remain ardently opposed to the lie that we evolved from primates and that the world was concocted by a throng of meth addicts hurling frag grenades into a black hole, I do believe that evolution is accurate to a degree. Due to my experiment, it has been undoubtedly proven that human beings can evolve from living specimens, into corpses. So I grant you the taste of sweet victory, developers and 'scientists' (AKA government sponsored crackpots), you win this round, but don't delude yourself into believing the false pretence that you have triumphed. The evolution that you are peddling is a farce, dinosaurs are behemoths and are depicted in the Bible, God concocted the earth and created us in his image, know your place evolutionists and STAY DOWN. While religion may certainly be waning in continents that people genuinely care about, such as Europe and America, we, the religious fanatics of the iron guard are conspiring, enlisting the aid of the Afro, Asian, Latino tribunal, employing them to skydive over our region and entrench themselves within our lands, gun and claymore in hand. The time of the evolutionary fiddle is night, now creationists arise and take back the land once more! For blood and soil compels you!