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They Must Die #2: The ‘Baby P’ Barker Brothers

Posted by roomynonce on Aug 11th, 2009 and filed under News. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0. You can leave a response or trackback to this entry

Warning: the following post contains mild descriptions of torture and mutilation.

My brother Roomybonce is a charitable man. He opens doors for ladies, sacrifices his seat on public transport to the pregnant & the lame, and consumes produce from humane and/or sustainable sources. It is his curse to be the family saint, whereas I….

Let’s just say I am not quite as fettered.

I have contacts in the Prison Service - how can someone with my record not? – and so I don’t foresee any problems pertaining to access. Blind eyes can be bought, and, I would have thought, relatively cheaply in this instance. One only needs a wetroom, a scalpel with a 12b blade, and approximately ten minutes to guarantee satisfaction.

Perhaps, as I roll their testicles between my fingers like bloody Baoding Balls (oh what sweet music they’d make) and my keening subjects bleed slowly from their vacant scrotum, I could talk them through a Powerpoint presentation on the basics of positive parenting.

Page one, of course, would explain why you shouldn’t knock your two year old’s teeth out. I think I could emphasise that point with a swift upstroke through the Perineum. Page two might include an in-depth analysis of exactly why you shouldn’t set a Rottweiler on a baby. Preparation of the lower abdomen for removal of the large bowel could accompany this particular section, which should at least ensure their complete attention.

We can then proceed with the procedure of disembowelment while talking through Page Three: Why you should avoid shattering a baby’s ribcage and breaking its back; before delivering the coup de grâce at the point of explaining why no human being would ever consider – not even for a flicker of a nanosecond – raping a two year old girl. 

Lesson over, I’m sure inmates and guards alike would appreciate a roaring pyre on a November night. It might even be worth keeping one half alive for that.

Let’s see how charitable I feel at the time.

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