Crimes of the foreskin etc.

GUILTY: D. Külanzie is convicted this day of dealing in a commercial quantity of lactophallamine, an illicit substance perhaps more commonly known by its street name, "Special C". During the course of the trial, it became shockingly apparent just how easy it is to manufacture this deadly drug.

Külanzie was a member of a secretive church group that came together every Thursday night on the pretense of discussing the scriptures. The other individuals who used to attend have yet to be charged, but in the public interest I shall name them here as Tomas Shardiner and the two gay sons of Wills. What in fact was transpiring on those evenings had very little at all to do with the scriptures. Genitals and poop-flutes were being disgracefully interlocked in ways and combinations I dare not describe, suffice to say that by the time it was all over, much milk had been spilt.

Now even a dog will have the decency to lick clean his groin after he has dropped seed but these degenerates happily let the oozings congeal on their flacidity. Of course this was intentional and is known in the trade as 'icing the tip'. If they were to simply roll over their slimy acorns (each man being 'uncut' and therefor filthy) and let it bake for a few hours, that would definitely make for some very tangy cock-tart. But to cultivate the proper hallocinogen-causing bacteria in lactophallamine the curd must infuse with the shedding foreskin in a hot, high-pressure vaccuum. To achieve this, Külanzie and his associates would wear special tight-fitting pants. It was learned that such garments are easily acquired - one need only go to a toddler's clothing store and buy a pair of pants that an eight-year old boy would normally wear.

Certainly wearing tight pants meant that Külanzie & co were made subject to all kinds of persecutions (every corridor became a gauntlet, dodging arse-flicks, knee rapes and enduring the shrill cries of "who's got tight panties?" and, "somebody's got a hungry bum!") - but there was more than enough consolation for them cooking away in their underpants: a veritable goldmine of calcified cockrust.

The fermentation process takes a few days and then it would come time to test the produce. On more than one occasion, the investigators on this case witnessed Külanzie casually burying his hand in his pants, pretending to re-adjust his suffocating balzack. Retrieving a small sample of camembert, he was observed to roll it between his finger and thumb and surreptiously bring it to his nose for a quick sniff [Special C is generally taken through the nose (hence its original 19th Century name "nutte snuff") but can also be ingested by placing it around one's mouth and gums. Some have also been known to enjoy it as a suppository, Jack Barter in particular].

Once the quality of the drugs had been tested, Külanzie and his operatives would traffic them using a clever distribution network at the church. Being special ministers of communion, they would arrange an early morning mass for their clients and smear their pubic pâte on the blessed eucharist - I shudder at the blasphemy! The junkies in attendance would get their hit by enthusiastically receiving the sacrament directly onto their tongue. The other regular church-goers (most of them geriatrics) also received the contaminated wafers. This caused them violent psychoses, the drugs reacting badly with their medication. Unfortunately, these drug-induced fits often involved the elder parishioners mounting one another in lust at the altar en masse. At first they thought their convulsions were manifestations of the pentacostal spirit and were happy for it. But soon they discovered the horrible truth when Mons. Peppas joined them for mass one day. Upon tasting the unholy bread, he instantly recognised it as dickcheese and he alerted the authorities.

The chief culprit having been brought to swift justice, it would seem that, yet again, we are in a great debt to Mons. Peppas.