This is not based on true story it IS a true story.

The fable of the dutty Buffy

T'was Dungley unday eve at night.

And the Goood-Crusaders were out studying ,

Our Buffy got twisted and knotted,

His thought pigment blotted,

His neurons dot doted,

Links to new links not previously plotted,

For our Buffy was a dutty Buffy. Scuzzed up and radiating,

He moves, he shakes, Our Buffy grinds his booty palace like a acid camel.

Tuned out, charged up and raging.

Observing his behaviour was really quite engaging

For he got munqd up on dungley sunday eve... But how?

Well, a sordid back-smith dut-Mungler appears

This bada'man offers his wares, to any mada'man who cares,

Then belches for ours ears...

“This will float ya' boats

Tune out for two five pound notes”

A monetary melody to serenade any goood boy on there crusades

“They got twice your yearly dose of your shittamin-D”

Pass me dat tenner and ill give 3”

Buffy was like, dame dame, “thats one judi deal, are you for real”

“Be warned doh', Dey' will gloss you you off till gleaming”

Wrapped up in buck-muster these glamour pumps did look quite judi.

Our buffy then half circled his arm from the dutty hand, to his open mouth. The Dut-Mungler then slunk back behind his Polythene burrow.

“Chompy chompy then time for stompy stompy”.

But the cheap popdown fun, got him raging like a goat.

The dweezle drip-bun got him frothing from the throat.

“Whats that smell”?

Then the unmistakable stench of an ozzy-dirtwold came melting into our scenario.

He's leaking, he's leaking, his reality has been punctured

Our Buffy's got dutty, This duttiness cannot be washed off with anything physical.

So what do you do with a Buffy this dutty?

We must brake down into 2.

Theo-metrical distances, from old faiths to new.

New gods and in new heavens.

Old ones pissed off like fresh brown skids off the toilet pan.

Fresh and flimsy single use rituals must take shape.

Resurrect and redirect the spirit of belief itself.

For this be the time for disposable theology.

We need not religiously practice, our new religious practice

Old sins must be washed away with new.

Our Buffy needs one o'dem splashdown-baptizions

For they are the temporary cure for all chemical dispositions

Splash, Splash, the sippy sippy of Wob and Mungley, they can be our prophets for now.

Splash, Splash, scoop out those sordid sins from your body,

Shake, Shake. Dash off the entrails of your chemically possessed self.

Sneak with stealth back up inside your body off good health

Move on, out, up and back to the other side of mind. Unfolded, upright, and refined

Dust of your shoulder, then crust off the boulder

Of the upper-crust residue of that chemical goo thats up inside'a'you.

This ritual alone is not enough, for our bad boy buff.

We need a single use prayer. To rise to the heavens like hot air.

“Dut-up mungley ,to shut upa'dem dungley,

Smutty fungi, to shoot up'a'dem dun-gee'”

Wow! The duttiness appears to gone!

Now our final ritual involves forgetting previous ritual had ever taken place,

Lets dispose of our new belief, Bloody hell thats a relief.

For Our Buffy be goood boy again.

The End