Foreword Sirs. I have been asked by my associates to provide an introduction to this, a website belonging to a gentleman of their acquaintance who, for reasons best known to himself, prefers to be known by the ridiculous moniker 'Buzz'.

I have never met this 'Buzz', although I am led to believe that he is a serial dilettante who hails from the northwest English city of Manchester; he is a man of little consequence, lacking in purpose and direction, a bitter failure, a childish découpage of frustrated potential, fading talents and menial office labour.

In short, he is a wankstain; a complete and utter fucking manky white cockdribble; a perpetual, sluggish plop plop plop of gonococcal discharge on to the warm baguette of your consciousness! Do not repeat my mistake, do not be fooled by appearances: it most certainly is not mayonnaise!

Look over here! It's a picture of the Queen with some sick on it. And see - see this frothy pool of saliva on my cake. And this sex I'm having now, right now as I type... I'd be enjoying it a lot more if I didn't need a shit so badly. A family holiday, ruined for you after being punched in the face by your mother. There's a pubic hair floating in your wine. A small boy goes to visit his granddad. He knocks on the door. Not a sound. He lets himself in. He calls out. No reply but a faint moan coming from granddad's bedroom door at the end of the hall. Gingerly he treads, walking down the corridor, step by wary step. With a shaking, clammy hand he turns the door handle. Door opens BOOM! A blast of gothic music. The sight is a grenade to the senses. Barely conscious, granddad is suspended from the ceiling, the severed legs of others stitched to his lower body, a grotesque, man-made spider-granddad.

'Buzz' is all of these things, and worse. He is a blot. A blemish. An unhappy feeling in the trousers. That a man like this should be is proof, if any were needed, that there is no God. My soul sickens from exposure to this website alone. I pity anyone unfortunate enough to have met him. Please, take my advice and surf away, reader. Go elsewhere. Look at some porn or something. Anything but spend time in this world of shit.

Buzz, Manchester, December 2009