Caption comp # 90

hey dude, there's a hamburger shop round the corner that has vacancies.

stupid super size me with his Mcbad health and his McBarf makeing me McBroke and McHomeless. Im going to McKill him.

Tonight on 'when they were stars' we look at one of the all time greats reduced to his present situation. It all started going bad when Mr G Rimace and Mr Hamburgler united to vote Mr Macdonald from his office of CEO. What followed was a downward spiral into drugs, gambling and prostitution.

Ronald McKitesurfer

With the global down turn the Mandurah Mob paid the penalty for taking too many days off to go sailing(trying to knock off the SRM[}:)][}:)]) instead of work as seen here their captain.
Hardie has slipped into a trance like state and taken to wearing colourful kids clothing, wandering through the back streets and muttering disjointed ramblings about the SRM

The I've been McRooted No more meals deal, comes with a complimentary cigarette.

Between parties, Ronald McDonald practices his step gybe footwork.

Old school freestylers resorted to dressing up and corny tricks to influence the judges. If only they had realised the spinning potential of shopping trolleys...

Filming of McDonalds new ad for it's McHobo burger - twenty two three day old gerkins found on the windows on a sesame seed bun.

Suprised we have no polka dot boardies yet

after a windy day, Ron would comb the streets and buildings of Bondi for bits and pieces for his 2nd hand kite shop.

Yeah I do cook fish and chips and I AINT PAULINE HANSON!!!

A bootleg from '84 of Dob Bylan emerged recently.

Still Air Blues

The air has stagnated n I’m suff-o-ca-ting
Like a fish out of water I’m dyin to breathe
It’s so still and quiet the world feels diseased
Seems like it’s a dyin from wind de-ficien-cy

There’s naught but cacophony afflictin my ears
The squawk of the buzzards and drone of the bees
Theres no hummin wires n no rustle of breeze
No sound but the clamour of wind de-ficien-cy

My hands have gone soft n my face has gone pale
My soul is deflated n my spirit has failed
I’ve resorted to readin windsurf magazine
N I’ve watched all the video that’s fit to be seen

Beads of cold sweat are pocking my brow
I can’t sleep at night so I get up n prowl
And I roam n disport myself dangerously
Like those fight pickin killers on cctv

There’s pent up resentment. There’s tags on the wall
There is no immunity. Everyone falls
It creeps up n gets you insidiously
There is no escaping wind de-ficien-cy

Kids are trawlin the web and they’re tryin to make bombs
They’re conspiring n plotting and acquiring guns
Any day now I’m expecting to see
A bloody eruption from wind de-ficien-cy

Ya got your economic meltdown n pandemic disease
Ya got global warming and disasters like these
Ya got wars n tsunamis n such cat-as-troph-ies
They all are as nothin to wind de-ficien-cy

N I’m tired n I’m weary n sick of this pain
N there’s no f***in way that I’ll endure this again
So I’ll go to the boss n I’ll chuck my job in
And I’ll spend my last dollar on a trip to the wind

What a talent :)