19 definitions by silencut

the one thing that we can rely on for now and forever. the corner-stone of any satiating (vicarious or otherwise) routine. trust moke.
household moke, ordinary moke, everyday moke. you know man, you know? moke just just moke. not a novelty. moke.
by silencut March 2, 2009
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so-so docudrama timeline about fin de siecle hollywood, revisiting themes from 1950's america.

david lynch was the auteur responsilbe for drawing attention to these characters lives

lingering doubts fog the air having watched this contribution to the milieu of pop culture, physically, as whilst indulging in this fact based romcom the viewer is likely to have smoked at least as many fags as the auteur smoked during the realisation of the timeline.

if you missed it, or for moreinformation mulholland drive may be repeated on a late-night broadcast, then you too can ask yourself, is that what it's like, i mean really like. on the otherhand, or you could just give it a miss
by silencut March 2, 2009
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adj. exemplimery state of affiars how one becomes dogger hounded n fucking feral
the bested *thinks*: hmmmmm... that scritch i drilled looks sumptious... now i wonder... they say no regrets... a-a-and you are what you eat... no. no. no more what ifs. still
by silencut February 16, 2009
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warning: clandestine!!1one!

the dying words of Alec Trvelyan to his friend James, at a facility somewhere over Siberia way, somewhere round there.

'Dying' a misnomer? No. Since giving sound to this clause Trevelyan becomes dead to James, and when he comes back at the park of crumbling stakhonovites he is vitally scarred facewise, his inner turmoil is the big revealed.

At the park Alec T. is in a place where he has had all Hull visisted upon him, alot, ok some of it anyway, all he could ever ask for.
Go ahead James, finish the Job, blow them all to Hull:

Literary masterchef screenwriter to bond, stews a reference to Ted Hughes, and all that spent quaint
by silencut March 3, 2009
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the political equivalent of shitting out a blinding hangover. following a time of riley disinhibition, puritans lord inhibition and the implementing of such policy brings on headaches for all. however, cancelling was needless tonight, as a massive, extended and all round boon to all restoration descended.
having retreated back to the bolt-hole ceremoniously i commemorate upon the throne and restoration process ensues
by silencut March 2, 2009
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like mind complete, finite; like the forseeable future that can be arranged, unimaginable in scope.

there're rules to it that're funny in thinking about going back on, however should you think you've succesfully actually done this, they'll be visited upon thee one hundred fold.

heart warming icelander bjork is one who somehow more than immediately springs to mind as an exponent of rules described above.

poet warlord john locke nominally realised these rules, but he didn't even have a house.
one nature of the known universe (courtesy of bjork): it's all around you.

another (courtesy of john locke): lest thee forgettin, covet not an ass lest your head be your only house unless it rains, so how willst the ass to you glorify all your worth.

well, there one has it. these crazy known universes and there chief exponents, i dunno, eh?
by silencut March 2, 2009
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1) a fetid smell that applies to one stench alone: that of catshit. thus and so since the crunch-stench of a witch's familiar causes a distinct "*crunch* my god would that i'd be elsewhere in the nick of time... to avoid this *crunch.*"

on a molcular level or, as certain departments would have it, what it actually happening here is the high iron content typical in the diet of a cat is acting like a bastard on the palatte, not only grating whatever, fags booze or aged cheese eg stilton is on there of the sufferer to begin off, but also dressing the wound with shit particles.

2) the derivative of what it is to be bested
having consumed ~yard of purple tin (and this applies to BOTH definitions, not that we all don't enjoy a good listing) steve-dave for some reason stepped outside to piss, i mean like this is outside his own house, to be greeted right (your left) templewise with a bastard. down he goes, into the local witch's familiar's ~week, ~week 1/2 old shit.

ooooh... now that's gotta crunch-stench.
by silencut March 2, 2009
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