Tonka's Week Y2K

< > I was reading about that Ransomnote, I mean, Ransomware virus internet attack the other day and I thought it looked, like, really cool, like? So, I thought I’d read a bit more about sending out virus Trojan horse attacks at people for blackmail money, because I’m fucking skint and I need the wonga for a new pair of Adidas Iniki trainers.

I read about something called watering hole attacks, which is when you create a fake website, but make it look a bit real, with a similar website address to the one you’re imitating, and the same set up, etc, and then you set online traps for the thick-as-shit who can’t spell anything to put their personal details and bank account info into. I created a fake website/search engine called Goggle, and made it look exactly like the Google website. LOLoutLOUD. I’ve already had a bunch of old dears send me their bank account details. Bless them, the silly old cunts. I managed to rinse one old bag out of her fucking hell, this bit is shit. Let’s talk about sexy models instead.

< > Have you SEEN the model on the adverts for Quiz Clothing on the London Underground (Bond Street station, specifically). I’ve never heard of Quiz Clothing before, and upon investigation, their clothes are fucking shit, but the model they’ve got at the moment…lads, trust me, she’s a cracking looking bird, and I bet she’s a right go-er in the sack. Know what I mean? If I had a gun to my head, I’d reckon to you that she’s into 69s, rimming, from behind, on top, me on top, sucking, licking, pegging, doggy style, tops and fingers, up the CONTENT REMOVED BY THE R$N STANDARDS AND DECENCY DEPARTMENT (hang on a minute, this isn't on R$N this week. I can write whatever the fuck I want. Nice one), up the arse bareback anal, dvda, facials, hugging and kissing, toys, wet play, showers, role play, cream pies, light bondage and fisting. Get yourself down to Bond Street station, down the Jubilee Line bit and have a gawp if you don’t believe me. She’s all over the station, and she’s fitter than fucking hell, this bit is also shit. And it’s dead sexist – come on, Tonks, it’s 2017 now, you can’t behave like it’s still 2011. What has happened to me lately? I’m either not writing anything at all or churning out piles of cack like this.

Let’s think of something interesting to write about…

< > I was in the middle of another imaginary orgy the other day, when my mind started to wander back to last weekend. I was sucking the Quiz Clothing woman’s big toe on her left foot as David Mellor rattled Gillian Taylforth in the mouth – he had the 1990/1991 Chelsea kit on and Gillian was bent over the steering wheel of a Land Rover on the M25. To my right, Hugh Grant and Bill Clinton were high-fiving one another as Monica Lewinsky and Divine Brown filmed Pamela Anderson snogging Tommy Lee on a boat whilst Pee-wee Herman wanked all over his lap. I closed my eyes and carried on sucking the Quiz Clothing woman's toe, but when I opened my eyes she'd disappeared and in her place was Sarah Ferguson, and we were poolside in whichever country she did her toe-sucking in. Yes, I was smack-bang in the middle of a 90s celebrity sex scandal mash-up, and there was no getting out of it.
Or so I thought. Knock knock knock went the door, and I snapped back to reality, in Northolt. A Dave OG video was playing on a nearby iPad (I can't remember which video, but trust me, it was one or an another) and the door kept knocking. I went to sleep on the settee and dreamed about how I finally made peace with Funster out of Mixmag at the Resident Advisor/Indie Music Cup after-party last Saturday night.

< > Farr Festival. I'll write about that properly on the Ran$om Note next week. It looks fucking brilliant, though, and if you want to buy tickets you can do so here. My very dear friend, Ivan Smagghe, is headlining the entire event, so it's bound to be, at the very least, smacky.

See above for the recent unveiling of the brand new genre he's created. It's Ivan Smagghe's 'smacky disco' set in the Mixmag office, up there ^^^
< > Indie World Cup. Done that up there ^^^
< > Peace with Chubby Funster. Yep. Done that bit up there, too ^^^

< > What else is going on in my life? Well, I think I'm doing an interview with Broken English Club on The Quietus soon. Or am I? I've not heard back from them, but then I haven't chased them up about it. Maybe we're both waiting for the other to make contact. Maybe we're both too bashful to make the first move. Hmm, I don't know. I don't really know (said in the voice of that woman off of Coronation Street and Les Dennis).
I'll give it another week or so and then email The Quietus.

< > TONKA'S PUB QUIZ is coming back. In July (probably the 27th) I'll be sensationally DRAGGING the hugely popular pub quiz from that suddenly shit-hole pub in Leyton to a trendy bar in Dalston - an area where people don't moan about having to go to for a pub quiz. Ray's Bar, formerly Dance Tunnel, will stage Tonka's Pub Quiz from now on, and I think I'll read the questions out this time. Fuck it, I don't care anymore. YOLO.
More details on that to follow, but that's the crux of it anyway.

< > I'll be back on the Ran$om Note next week. The only reason I'm posting this on here is because everyone at Ran$om Note who can work a computer has fucked off to Barcelona for Sonar. Or maybe I'll bring WRDM back full-time again? I don't know - I've lost a bit of the old fire in my belly. I can't give a fuck about shit promos and boring websites and magazines anymore. And I really did bump into Mixmag Funster last Saturday night, and we hugged it out. Maybe that was a fitting end to the Tonka story.
Maybe it was because of all the ecstasy E tablets and gak I'd consumed after the football.
Maybe I'll never stop.
I can't stop.
*shrug emoji*

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