Stuck Down A Chilean Mine With The Girls Of The Playboy Mansion

An unlikely scenario I’ll grant you, however I have been inspired to seek wealth and fame in a, somewhat, unconventional manner by 33 dirty, smelly, hairy and quite frankly, scary looking Chilean miners who, bored and unsuccessful in their chosen careers as gold miners, decided to make the underground sequel to Brokeback Mountain. Yes, I too have heard the rumor that Samuel L. Jackson will play the lead role and will utter the line “I’ve had it with these mother f@#$ing Chileans in this mother f%$#ing mine”.


Yes, feted by Hollywood and the worlds press these before, unknown, men are now celebrities, media darlings and quite wealthy and all it took to achieve this was a few months spent in a dark hole; quite frankly, speaking as a man, I have often wanted to spend several months in a dark hole where Mrs. The Ranting of a Twisted Man can’t harass me.

Not wanting to be called a copycat (or ending up as someone’s bearded girlfriend) I have decided to forgo finding 32 other men to share the experience with and have cunningly decided to persuade the girls of the playboy mansion to join me; bikinis optional.

Problem 1. The girls, bless their ample hearts, are not known for their powerful intelligence and explaining to them that Chile is a place and not the sensation they feel when running naked through the mansion in an effort to escape Hugh and his Zimmer frame will be difficult.

Solution 1. The world famous Playboy mansion Grotto is certainly dark and while perhaps not dingy, will adequately suffice; once I have sealed the entrance with the mansions yearly supply of champagne, condoms and implants it will be virtually impregnable; well perhaps not impregnable but it should remain impenetrable for at least one, maybe two parties.

Problem 2. Hef, no doubt, will be wondering after a few days where his girls have gone and I (and probably the rest of the world) and no desire to find out what havoc a randy, Viagrafied Hugh will inflict; neither man nor beast will be safe and even supposing he kicks his little blue friends, I do not want to be responsible for the demise of the Pfizer pharmaceutical company.

Solution 2. A tricky one, and to solve this I will need the help of as many people as possible, male or female, it’s not important. If you’re idea of a hot date is to spend three months with an eighty something Adonis of love who answers to the name “daddy” then please visit www.iwanttobehhughsplaything.com and sign up.

Problem 3. As mentioned in problem 1, the girls are not the sharpest knives in the drawer, and while the idea of playing nonstop twister and assuring them that, yes, your boobs look real, appeals in the short term, I fear that my interest may wane after awhile, in fact I am concerned that after a week I may actually prefer to be with those 33 dirty, smelly and don’t forget, hairy Chilean miners.

Solution 3. A rethink of the entire premise…

….leads to

Stuck On The Toilet With A Copy of Playboy Magazine

Perhaps not quite the same ring to it, but at least I will be famous….on You Tube anyway.

Open Letter to My Followers

I’d like to start with an apology for my unexplained absence. I’m sure all three of you have been wondering where the hell I have been these past months and why I haven’t been making those court enforced payments, well let’s just say that my life has reached a crossroads and I have decided to make a dramatic change.


If you follow me on Facebook then you may already have a clue; if you don’t follow me on Facebook, then you are leading a shallow, empty unfulfilled life and you need to get with the program.

As of today and after an extraordinary amount of time lying on the toilet floor in an alcohol induced, mind altering, state of altered reality and elevated consciousness; I have decided to forgo my former life and transform myself into a black hip hop artist named Dil Do Ahm Awavin; (in the air, in the air, like you just don’t care)

Before you say, “It’s been done! Where’s the originality! You suck, and my personal favorite, Get him!” ,let me explain in further detail.

You have heard of a certain Mr. Joachim Phoenix trying this recently, hence you may be confused and making rash assumptions about plagiarism and copyright. If you didn’t hear about this, then please ignore this paragraph. Mr. Phoenix’s amateurish attempt did not work, because a) it was not real and he wasn’t 100% committed and b) he tried to transform himself into a WHITE hip hop artist and as we all know, white hip hop artists have no street cred. As a BLACK hip hop artist I will be able to say fo shizzle ma nizzle, without getting my azzile kicked and the rest will just follow. NOTE; THIS IS NOT A STUNT, THIS IS FO REAL.

My transformation has thus far not been easy; I have run into problems being accepted into the hip hop community and discovered several unforeseen pitfalls. For instance, asking for and buying a “Big Bag of Crack” resulted in the inhalation of enough plaster of paris to ensure that I will never use my bottom again; calling supermarket checkout operators, “my ho’s”, will not see you elevated to the head of the 12 items of less queue. My other dilemna has been finding a handgun, because as you know, no rapper or hip hop superstar can be without their 9mm, semi-automatic handgun at any time. Now finding a piece can be difficult, and what you should never do (so I have learnt) is to never ask an Asian sailor, at the docks on a dark night, if he hook you up with a glock; this may result in being offered a rather large “woman” with a rather large Adams apple.

These are the trials and tribulations I must go through in the name of my art.

So for now, I, Dil Do Ahm Awavin, am working on material that will find its way onto my new album. The first track will be filled with a biting political and social commentary on the need for the Monarchy in our society, set to the rhythm of “My Old Mans a Dustman”, it will be da bomb. Anyone with rhyming words for Queen please email me directly. So far I have Jeans, Jellybeans and between her knees.