One hundred Philistine foreskins

That’s what Saul wanted from David.

It was mission impossible, one moerse tall order, but Saul was the king, the head honcho, Mr Big, the CEO, chairman of the board, the president, the general secretary, No. 1 King Pappa, Msholozi of umIsrael. And if that was what would lift the squall off the Saul, 100 Philistines would have to have their dick-ends clipped, which is something Philistines are known to be reluctant to let happen.

And the boykie to take the rind off their pork-swords was the young shepherd lad, David. After all if had smashed a river-rounded klippie right where the light shone, dropped this Goliath bully, this steroid-stupid Creatine cretin refugee from the WWE. And then he cut the motherfucker’s head right off with the giant’s own sword. That had scared the bellicose balls off the Philistines and Saul had won the barney.

By now you’re thinking … hmmm, sounds vaguely familiar.

But wait, there’s more to come. There always is, dear reader; always is.

Y’see it was a trap born of jealousy. A lucky shot with a sling was one thing. That was one on one, mano y mano. David had to circumcise 100 Philistines and, since they were unlikely to drop their loincloths willingly, this meant whacking dem all, boss. This was, like, serious dude!

The king with all his power and the automatic blind unthinking devoted allegiance of the masses (one could say ‘at grassroots level’ but there’s not much grass in the desert), was the chief cock and puddle pisser and what he said was law.

So David sought help from Someone Higher Up — always a good idea! — gathered his buddies together and set off on mission impossible centuries before Tom Cruise hovered sweatily above the floor.

They topped 200 Philistines in record time and returned to Saul (who was probably chortling into his royal sleeve about having cleverly killed off David) with an incredible two-for-the-price-of-one deal.

The mighty king sat there cock-eyed by David’s foresight, and gave the lowly sharp-shooting, Red Bull-drinking shepherd boy his daughter’s hand in marriage.

And there, oddball with the shower nozzle on your head and loud-mouthed Montessori rejects yelling support and waving their fists in the air like Nazi-boys with arthritis (you’ve got to open your hand, Julius!) backing you up, therein lies today’s lesson.
Evil kings with evil plans shall behold their anus face to face when they get too clever for their own good. Yea! Readers can decide for themselves who “David” is … I’m not going to do everything for you!

Word!