Smutclub 1990

These two funny little bozos are turning the tables this week, as they read out submissions from the esteemed conglomerate of brain surgeons which comprises The Picture’s regular readership. In short, a bunch of peanut headed birdbrains have submitted dumb jokes and we’re reading them into microphones for your entertainment. Get involved in some incredulously verbose horseshit.

The Poms are off the chain, and cutting loose in Chelsea with some ravenous rooting revelry! Doubtlessly high on dangerous drugs, The Picture’s roaming reporter has ventured into a sordid hotbed of debauchery to bring the beloved readers tales of people rooting goblins on the floor. Bjork is crowbarred in there somewhere. Then, we hear about Melbourne’s 1996 Sexpo show, which is chock-full of rude showbags and cutting edge vibrator technology, as well as Max Cream and his ugly, fleshy pole. If you understood any of that, you’re as unhinged as we are. Have it.

It’s time to rip into another one of The Picture’s famous Gripping Yarns! This week we hear about some poor sod who has an unpleasant trouser-based surprise at the end of a tockley tantalizing interaction with his gorgeous neighbour. Absolute garbage, didn’t happen, not a word of truth in it. Then, we round it out with some sheila talking about sending her husband’s knob to the mental asylum with arousal. Good fun as always.

We’re back with another edition of Sez You, one of the many reader-submitted portions of The Picture magazine! We hear a desperate cry for pantyhose-related content from a man with a niche taste in fetishes, followed shortly by a plea from another reader to have his pornographic magazine collection taken away from him. After a bit of faffing around with our phones trying to call a mobile number listed in the magazine, we then read one of the most fucked poems we’ve ever come across. Beware the long arm of the law.

These two little fellas are back again, and despite a rocky start and somewhat of a breakdown on one of their parts, it’s another horny week here at Smutclub HQ! First off, we read about some bloke who is producing anatomically correct mannequins with assumedly nefarious motivations. After we’re done with that pillar of society, we learn about some absolute bozo from the Top End who has won a date with one of the sheila journos at The Picture. There’s a series of photos with her norks out while he gets increasingly drunk. We round it out with a beautiful bit of poetry. Lovely stuff.

Derryn Hamster has struck again, with a wonderfully informative article about American folk and some absolutely coo-coo bananas behaviour with their pets. We’re talking frogs getting sent to the gym, some bloke who uses his lizard collection to pull roots, and a couple of cowboys who let their horse ride in the back of a Cadillac. Absolute garbage, none of it is true, but boy is it fascinating reading this tripe.

It’s the dawn of a new magazine, a new shining light burgeoning with tockleys, spoonta and mootage. We’re joined by comedian Cameron Duggan to flick through this second-hand stick mag, where randy readers are writing in questions to resident advice columnist, Adriann. We stumble upon infected belly-button piercings, crudely worded sexually propositions, and creative labial adjustment methods, all in the name of a damn good time. Horrific scenes here at Smutclub HQ.

We’re rounding out another magazine this week with an audience favourite, the delectably crass Home Girls section. We’re joined by comedian and artist, Emma Holland, to peruse a handful of poorly taken photos submitted by discerning sheila readers of The Picture, accompanied by clunky bios revealing sad facts about them. Some like tigers, some are pregnant with their third child at age 21, and some just straight up need the cash. No one is on the dole, thankfully, and they’ll be the first to admit that. Chonka chonka.