GS's "Mr. T vs. White Trash Vs. Space Waste" Aristocrats Joke

A family walks into a talent agency. It's a father, mother, son, daughter and dog. The father says to the talent agent, "We have a really amazing act. You should represent us."

The agent says, "Sorry, I don't represent family acts. They're a little too cute."

The mother says, "Sir, if you just see our act, we know you would want to represent us."

The agent says, "OK. OK. I'll take a look."
“Oh boy oh boy, you won't be sorry!” gushed the father, a rather scrawny pale white sweaty man with thick black hair that only emphasised his dandruff. “Thank you for giving my humble family and I this chance to showcase our talent! We feel we are just what the world entertainment industry has been waiting for!” The agent found this fawning gratitude and desperation repulsive, as it seemed did the man's wife, who the agent caught rolling her eyes. She was still quite a looker for her age, definitely worth a bang from behind.

“Sorry we're late girls!”

Just then, a tall black man, thinner than the father, flounced into the office wearing pink leather trousers and a black studded vest and carrying a gold glitter-covered briefcase. He put the brief case down on the floor and hugged the father and the rest of the family.

“Hi, I'm Leroy!” said the black newcomer to the room, offering a sovereign-ring covered hand to the agent.

“This is my brother!” says the father.

The agent shook Leroy’s hand before wiping it on his leg under the table and looked at the father with a mixture of disbelief and that “Seriously? Straight up?” look the father had seen a thousand times before.

“Oh yes, we are brothers, there is African blood way back in our family tree, it must have re-emerged with our Leroy!” Now the father was not the sharpest piece of broken crockery in Mariah Carey's kitchen but had always been baffled by Leroy’s 'slightly African' appearance. The suspicion started when he was 10 years old, 2 months before Leroy was born when Dexter, the family's loyal Negro gardener told the father his mom “loved the chocolate” with a wink.

“Now, can we get started,” said the agent impatiently, “I've got 3 more families to see this afternoon who claim their act is not the usual 'cute family act'”

“Of course we can,” said the father, “Here's Lionel now”.

“Fuck me!” said the agent, “its Lionel Richie!'”
“Hi,” said Lionel, wearing a glitter jump suit like he was back in the Commodores, “I'm a friend of the family, I'll be providing the music this afternoon. Sorry I'm late, I was buying cocaine from George W. Bush's dealer on the second floor.”

“Right, places everyone,” yelped brother Leroy, whilst mincing and clapping his hands. If the agent was a betting man, which he wasn't since the time he lost his nine year old daughter's ass virginity to Arnold Schwarzenegger at card game at Hulk Hogan's house (Her cunt had gone to the Hulkster a year before), he was sure that Leroy was a flaming queer, queerer than that picture of Elton John with a massive powdered wig on plastered to the side of a gay bar called 'The Pink Flamingo'.

The white members of the family ripped off the clothes they were wearing to reveal costumes identical to brother Leroy's. They then all stood in a line with their right arms raised as Lionel Richie took his seat stage right at a portable Hammond organ, beside which the family pet Alsatian was sleeping.

“What about the baby?” said the agent pointing to a buggy that looked as though it had been salvaged from the river.

“Oh...we couldn't get a sitter,” says the mother, “the baby is definitely not in the act.”

“Unless you want it to be!” squealed the father in the desperate manner that had so repulsed the agent earlier. The mother shot her spineless husband a hard look of pure fucking hate. Fuck, she thought, why didn't I just marry that ginger Irish guy who used to finger my cunt in our shed after school and who cried and sung 'Danny Boy' when he blew his load in my ear? I had to stay with this son of a bitch just because of his abnormal, deformed 14 inch cock.

Just then Lionel started up “Say You Say Me” on the organ. It was quite jazzy, it was clear that the Motown hit-maker was going to explore different musical avenues during this performance. It was also clear that Lionel was coked out of his fuckin' box. He was mumbling and humming along with his music as a hefty white rock fell out of his nose and back onto the pile of coke resting on his heavy organ.

The family then got into it, swaying slowly, and then beginning to sing along to Lionel Richie's music. The daughter was a little off key, but the agent was impressed, especially with the son, who seemed to be really feeling the music and connecting with its lyrics. He looked like a young Lisa Minnelli. The son then sauntered towards the agent and climbed up on his desk. The teenage boy then turned his back on the agent, squatted down, undid the zip on the pink leather trousers that ran from asshole to crotch and then started to push and push till a near black foot long turd eventually thunked down on the agents desk. It was grotesque; the agent could tell that the son was a big lover of corn and peanuts. And the smell, it was as though someone had dug up Ronald Regan's decayed right-wing, fundamentalist corpse and left it out in the sun. However, the agent was impressed that the son had managed to squeeze out a loaf of such size. “Christ”, he thought, “that would have ripped my asshole to pieces”. The agent suspected the son had had help in the – ahem- dilation of his teenage asshole and suspected that the boy would have to sit mom and pop down in the near future over tea and cucumber sandwiches and explain that he didn't like girls.

Anyway....

The son picks up the foul, nutty turd, smears it over his chest, gives himself a Dirty Sanchez and then with his shit-covered hands, marks a crucifix shape on the agent’s desk. He then rubs his faeces-covered hands all over his ass, looks at the agent and winks, before re-joining his family in line.

The family are now singing along to Lionel's late 70's hit 'Truly'. The agent is impressed the family are managing to keep up with Lionel's playing, which has become more fractured and disjointed as the Presidential coke begins to kick in. Lionel shouts something about his ex-wife being a crack-whore who was naked on the back of a zebra when he met her, now she has half of his shit.

It’s now the daughters turn to shine. Though only 13 years old, she is a well developed girl, with a lovely rack, which makes the agent feel that brilliant mix of arousal and intense shame and guilt. Like her brother, she approaches the agent and begins to perform a lap dance.

“Well, they didn't teach this in school when I was a boy” the agent whispers in her ear as she writhes on his fat half-Polish thigh.

“I want you to rape me, I want you to take a knife to my ass, I want your hot cum....”

Just then, the agent turns away, laughs nervously and tells the daughter he gets the idea as she walks back to the family. To his immense guilt, the agent now has a granite-hard erection and can feel his sturdy 4 and a half inches ready to pop. As the daughter walks back, now naked, the agent notices she has whip-marks down her back, herpes sores around her ass and 'Lionel' burned onto her neck. The agent looks over to the author of a many a fine piano ballad, who is now shaking like Muhammad Ali sitting on a washing machine and drooling like a fuckin’' retard. The agent winks at Lionel, who barely acknowledges it, launching into a straight, precise version of “Hello”, quite a feat considering he is trashed on Bush-grade cocaine.

“Give some to Papa!” shrieks the father to the daughter. The daughter then drops to her knees in front of her father, who has been pleasuring himself whilst she danced. His cock is a freak of nature. It looks like a giant Twiglet, but pink, throbbing, with black veins and a purple head but all bent and twisted. The daughter takes the length in her young mouth like a trooper, sucking and licking and flicking with her tongue. The agent picks up on the bored look on her face and the glazed over eyes in her head, like she's done this a thousand times.

“Come on, bro, you a man or a muthafuckin queer!” says the daughter. The son, who the agent suspects of being absolutely flaming, shuffles over sheepishly. The daughter takes the sons limpid cock in her mouth but alas, the boy can't get hard.

“Useless fuckin' queen!” snorts the daughter, “You must be the only boy in our hometown in Alabama who wouldn't jump at the chance to be blown by his own sister!” With that, she goes back to blowing her dad. The son crouches over, sobbing like the fag he is. Suddenly the mother runs behind him with a 10 inch green strap on with Tabasco sauce on the end and rams the whole fucking thing up her son’s asshole.

“There there” she says, “your still mommy's special guy”. The mother thrusts in and out of her sons asshole with the speed and clumsiness of a 17 year old virgin getting his first piece off of the local slut that the whole football team have had. The sons face is now a picture, glowing, beaming. Then Leroy walks over, now naked down to his freshly waxed balls and with a hard-on that perpetuates the theory that black men have big cocks.

“Now then,” he purrs in the way gay guys do, “Time to catch up on all the fun I've missed while I popped out for chicken rice and peas!” Leroy then walks round in front of the son and shoves his big black dick as far down the boy’s throat as nature will allow.

It's a hell of a scene. The daughter is still blowing her father's deformed penis in that cold, erotic manner, as though she has throat cancer and her fathers cum is the cure. The mother and Leroy are roasting the son, the mother with a strap on from behind, Leroy nearly choking him to death with his cock from the front. In fact the agent is not even sure if the son is still alive but whatever he is, he sure looks like he's having fun! Lionel is still hammering his organ, playing what sounds like a free jazz version of 'Dancing on the Ceiling' while stammering something about his daughter being a whore and wondering why she never takes Paris to the house anymore since he had CCTV installed in every room. The agent notices that half of the coke pile has disappeared. He'll have to get that dealers number.

The agent sure wishes he could join in, his little penis his straining to get out of his pants. But ever since he sodomised Kelly Clarkson after an audition in this office 6 years ago he has taken an oath of professional integrity. As the family fuck awkwardly in time with Lionel Richie's playing the mother says to her husband

“Did you get the results of that test?”

“Oh....fuck......that’s it.......here comes your favourite spunk drink......what test honey?”

The mother again rolls her eyes. Her husband is so forgetful. “That test for AIDS you took after fuckin' Ricki Lake?”

“Yup. Positive. oh oh oh OH OH OH FUCK YEAH, I'M COMING!!!!” And then the dad shot half a pint of lukewarm, Ricki-AIDS infected spunk into his distraught daughters mouth, who had begun hysterically screaming: “POSITIVE?!?!?! YOU JUST GAVE ME FUCKIN AIDS?”?”?” WHY WOULD A FATHER DO THAT TO A DAUGHTER!?!??!?!? YOU WON'T EVEN LET ME HAVE BOYS IN MY ROOM IN OUR TRAILER AND YOU'VE JUST GIVEN ME FUCKIN AIDS!!!!

As mentioned earlier, the agent is not a betting man, but if he was he would wager that this young fuck-whore is in shock. She hurtles around the room, screaming, only to trip and fall face first into Lionel's seriously diminished pile of coke. The agent tuts, he's seen this a lot, teenage girls who just can't handle their cocaine When she gets up, she looks like Pacino in 'Scarface'. All of a sudden, she collapses into Lionel's keyboard, knocking him and said organ over. He doesn't miss a note, what a pro! This commotion manages to stir the family Alsatian from his previously peaceful slumber. The dog starts vacuuming up the rest of the coke and goes fucking crazy, running around the room, dipping his canine cock into various orifices that include Leroy’s ass, the dads mouth, the daughters stab wound in the chest she received from Lionel for fuckin’ with his stash, the mothers ass before it finally heads towards the baby's pram.

“NOOOOOO!” screams the mum, withdrawing the strap on from her son's ass. The Alsatian snatches the baby from the pram between its teeth and shakes it from side to side like an old boot. It is then that the agent notices that the baby is green and decaying.

“That baby looks like it been dead for a year!” says the agent, nearly shocked.

“Its only been 10 months!!!” shrieks the mother, “It was natural causes, I swear!”

“If selling his organs to the Russian Mafia were natural” slurs Lionels, by now on his hands and knees trying to recover the last grains of that sweet sweet CIA-produced c-c-c-cocaine.

By now, the dog is feasting on the dead baby corpse, which smells horrible, though not as bad as the ungodly stool that escaped from the older sons ass earlier.

“Ah, screw it, I was getting sick of pushing that dead baby around anyway” said the mother with a dismissive wave, “It was starting to get to be a motherfucker applying all that foundation to him every morning. On with the show….”

By now, the daughter is curled up in the foetal position, recieveing a good kicking from Lionel Richie. The family then grab their semi-conscious daughter and spread her out on the floor. Leroy opens the glitter suitcase and hands each family member a hammer and a stake. They then hammer stakes into the daughters hands and feet, pinning her to the floor, she screams loudly but the mother just kicks her clean up the cunt.

“Shut up, you plague-ridden whore!” wailed the mother, “You’re UNCLEEANN!!”

Lionel Richie composes himself and begins to play “Endless Love”. He looks well pissed off and no wonder. That white bitch has fucked with his stash.

The mother, father, queer son and even queerer brother Leroy are now wearing African tribal masks taken from Leroy’s queer-ass glitter suitcase and dancing around the spread-eagled daughter. The agent recognises this dance from an article in National Geographic. It’s used by African witch-doctors to cure AIDS sufferers. Surprisingly, it has saved no one from dying a horrible AIDS-related death. After a few minutes of this, the son stops dancing and starts to rape the living shit out of his sister. She’s screaming “NO NO STOP!” which, along with the thought of being fucked by his mother, only encourages the son and makes his once-flaccid member harden. The father then pours sulphuric acid and peanut butter over his grotesque penis and inserts his burning cock into the son’s accommodating anus right up to the balls. The son winces a bit but even though he’s not facing the agent, the agent can tell the little fag is loving it. For shits and giggles, Leroy decides he may as well stick his black cock up his brothers asshole, despite the fact that the dirty red-neck son of a bitch could be doing with a shower.

“Gimme a fucking visual bitch!” barks the father to his wife, who is stunned by her husbands manly tone. Immediately, she goes over to the glitter suitcase and produces a fold away easel which she sets up in front of the vibrating, groaning pile of sweaty, fucking family members. She then hangs a large poster of recently deceased civil rights icon Rosa Parks.

“Yeah, thats what I'm talking about! Who's my uppity nigger, uh?!” leers the father, getting harder inside his now-weeping sons asshole. The agent is not sure if these are tears of joy or pain.

By now, the daughter has regained conciousness and is screaming the whole building down. The mother then pulls a jar of killer wasps from the suitcase and stick it up her cunt, which the agent thinks resembles a burst cushion. The mother then squats on her daughters face, muffling her screams and threatening to cut off her oxygen. The mother is now writhing on her daughters face while tongue kissing her fag son like its last dance at the prom.

“FUCK....I'M COMING AGAIN!” yelled the father. He pulled his sticky, nutty, acid-rotted penis out of his son's ass and shoots his load all over the picture of Rosa Parks (this load was not quite the same volume as the first cos the second never is.) Leroy then came in his brothers ass, braying like a donkey. He fell back onto his back still spraying coon come everywhere. Hell, even the son managed to come a little trickle into his sisters heavily bruised vagina. All of a sudden there is a faint cracking noise. The jar of wasps cracked and they flew into the daughters mouth, stinging her throat until it swelled up, cutting off her air supply til she died.

“Ding dong the witch is dead!” chanted the mother. The rest of the family took up the chant, stopped fucking and danced around the daughter like a bunch of Down's Syndrome sufferers auditioning for a community production of 'Wizard Of Oz'. The father then runs around his daughters corpse, pouring petrol over her bloody body before setting fire to her. The family continue to dance and sing around the daughters corpse. The agent is shocked. These fuckin' hicks clearly had no respect for quality carpet, he'd just had his office re-decorated. Lionel was now soundtracking this scene with a medley of Radiohead album tracks and b-sides. Clearly on the comedown following the cruel destruction of his $20,000 stash, Lionel was trembling and blood was dripping from his nose onto his organ. Leroy then started to pass round a bottle of Jack, which everyone in the room took a slug from, even the agent.

“Hey, that fire is getting a bit toasty”, said the agent nervously. Just then the door to the office crashed open and a tall black figure ran in and put out the burning funeral pyre with a fire extinguisher.

“Holy fuck, its Mr. T!” screamed the excited agent, a huge fan of 'The A Team'.

“Laurence baby!” squealed Leroy, “What you doing here?”

“Shut up fool!” barked Mr. T, “I was just gonna get some fried chicken when I thought I'd come get you but no you still here jibber-jabbing with these damn chicken-necked, no-assed white motherfuckers! Now, whats a Nigger to do to get a blow job round here? Fool.”

Quick as a flash, the son ripped down Mr T's jeans and started sucking his dick as though it were coated with sugar and angel dust.

“Get off my man, hag!” shouted Leroy. He then yanked the queer sons head back so quick that the son's jaw clamped down, severing Mr T's nigger cock from Mr. T.

Leroy and the son were now rolling around, fighting, Leroy screaming “Thats MY dick! Thats MY dick! Give it back!” It was a rubbish fight though, the fighters being gay and all.

“No fool, its my fuckin dick!” said Mr T, clutching his newly-formed piss hole. Just as he was about to intervene in the fag fight, he noticed the the poster of Rosa Park that was near-soaked through with AIDS-infected cum.

“I pity the fool who defamed that poster of Rosa Parks” exclaimed the 'Rocky III' star. Not so subtlety, the mother points to the father. He can't even make up an excuse. Hell, why else would you ejaculate over a poster of a dead civil rights icon, other than in the name of entertainment?

Mr. T removes his jewellery from his neck and put it around the fathers, crushing him and pinning him to the floor.

Mr T. is bleeding from the crotch, bleeding bad. However dazed he is, it doesn't show as he removes a mini-chainsaw from Leroy's surprisingly roomy suitcase.

“This isn't in the script!!!” whimpers the father. Mr T. then cuts the father into small pieces, carefully avoiding his expensive but tasteless collection of gold chains. As blood fills the office floor, the two fighting faggots slip and fall out of the window, falling 90 storeys to their death.

“Oh no!” screams Mr T in a surprisingly feminine voice, “My darling Leroy, I'm such a fool! I pity me!” with that, the 80's icon leaps out of the window to follow his lover Leroy and the queer white kid to death, clearly thinking that not enough people have hit the sidewalk today. This scene greatly disturbs the agent as it reminds him of the time when he had to throw two of his colleague out of the window of the first tower during the 9/11 attacks. They had discovered his part in the government conspiracy to take down the towers to instigate a war in the Middle East. He offered the two Muslim-loving liberal fucks a bribe but the two poor excuses for Jews refused. They had to die. Simple as. The agent hopes he hasn't said this out loud.

“And now,” says the mother, trying to get this severely fucked-up performance back on track, “the grand finale!” The agent is impressed. He can vaguely remember seeing a few families like this in the past who fuck themselves to death but it is the first time the mother ever makes it to the end. Lionel is fucked, he's now crying and playing “What's My Age Again?” by Blink 182, calling himself crap and stupid.

The mother climbs up on to the agents desk and starts peeing all over his lap. The agent is strangely aroused. He hasn't had a girl pee on him since Mother Teresa back in the heyday of Studio 54.

“Now,” the mother says, still pissing like a Kentucky Derby winner, “you may or may not remember near the start of this grotesquely overblown and over-long audition that my now-dead fag son drew a crucifix on your desk with his own stinking excrement. This wasn't just a poor attempt at blasphemy by a sexually-confused teenage boy. The little fucker was a keen astronomist and he has calculated that an asteroid the size of a golf ball will hit this spot from outer space in the next....5 minutes!”

“What what what?!” blusters the agent. “But this desk is new, imported from Poland and made from the bones of the last found remains of Holocaust victims at Auschwitz!”

“Your desk will be saved bitch, I'm gonna catch that fucker in my asshole!” said the mother. “You've got to make this family stars after that!”

Poor slut, the agent thought, her family is dead and she thinks this act will get signed.

“Lionel, lets bootleg!” says the mother. She opens a Bible on the desk, pisses on it and then bends over, ass facing the office window, due east. Lionel starts up a hip-hop rhythm reminiscent of Jay Z's track “Girls Girls Girls”. The mother then begins to narrate the Nativity as a rap, replacing the words Jesus with “Cuntface”, Mary with “slack-assed bitch” and Nazareth as “rural Slovenia”. This goes on for four minutes when the agent spots a bright ball of fire hurting towards the office building.

“Here it comes!” yells the agent, peering through his fat chubby Jew fingers.

The asteroid slams perfectly into the mothers asshole, travelling at great speed but somehow not managing to exit the mothers body. Blood and pieces of ruptured asshole fly everywhere and the mother cums about six litres of cunt juice all over the desk, groaning, “Oh, space debris, you fuck so much better than my husband AND Tupac Shakur AND k.d.. lang AND Colin Powell.”

Lionel and the mother walk to the centre of the room, Lionel putting a clean, fresh white towel around the mothers neck and passing a healthy looking joint to the mother who takes a theatrical drag. Lionel and the mother both do jazz hands, smile and say “TA DA!!”

Despite his feeling of deja vu with regards to what he has just saw, the agent sits back with his hands behind his head, wishing the bitch would follow the correct etiquette and pass that motherfuckin' spliff to the left hand side.....

For the longest time, the agent just sits in silence. Finally, he manages, "That's a hell of an act. What do you call it?"

And the father says, "The Aristocrats!"