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Welcome to the Unofficial, Highly Questionable, and Definitely Unauthorized Fan Club of Jord - The Emo Pisshead, Aspiring Rock God, and Future Member of the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster (Swinger's Club Subsidiary)!
Gather 'round, ye faithful, ye lovers of lukewarm beer, questionable life choices, and the dulcet tones of a man who may or may not have showered this week (or this month, we're not judging... much). You have stumbled upon the hallowed digital halls dedicated to the one, the only, the inimitable... Jord! A man so complex he's practically a Super Council Plus.
He's the emo pisshead with a heart of... well, something, probably. Possibly gold, possibly hardened by years of Tesco's rum and existential angst. He's the troubadour of the mundane, the bard of the slightly inebriated, the six-string slayer of... well, mostly his own ambitions. But damn, can he play that cheap guitar (when he can find it, that is)! He dreams of being a rockstar, but for now, he's a legend in his own mind, a rockstar in his own bathroom, and a source of endless amusement for those of us who appreciate the beauty of a perfectly executed train wreck set to music.
Jord, a man whose musical aspirations are as lofty as his tolerance for sobriety is low. And his tolerance is lower than a snake's belly in a wagon rut, folks. He's the leader of a motley crew, a fellowship of the slightly unhinged, a band of brothers (and maybe a sister or two, we're not sure, they tend to come and go) who find solace in the bottom of a bottle and the questionable wisdom of their fearless leader. A true Scottish hero, in his own, special way.
But Jord's journey is about to take a turn for the... well, let's just say it's about to get a whole lot weirder. You see, we, the esteemed members of the Tlusty Blant think tank (a group of highly qualified individuals with questionable sanity and a penchant for the absurd), have decided that Jord is the perfect candidate to become the first official member of our newly formed Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster (Swinger's Club Subsidiary)!
That's right, folks. We're talking about a spiritual awakening of epic proportions. A journey into the noodly depths of existence, where the sauce is always plentiful, the meatballs are always juicy, and the dress code is strictly "come as you aren't." And, as a special bonus, members of the Swinger's Club Subsidiary get exclusive access to our monthly "Pasta and Perversion" potlucks! (BYOB and BYOC - Bring Your Own Colander).
But wait, there's more! As the first member of this prestigious (and highly exclusive) club, Jord will be leading the charge in our most important mission yet: achieving Super Council Plus status and unlocking the legendary extra PIP benefits for alcoholics! We believe that Jord's dedication to the art of inebriation, combined with his natural charisma (and questionable life choices), makes him the ideal candidate to navigate the bureaucratic labyrinth of the benefits system and emerge victorious, with a steady stream of extra cash to fund his musical (and alcoholic) endeavors.
We envision a future where Jord, fueled by pasta, passion, and the finest bottom-shelf spirits, becomes a beacon of hope for all those who dare to dream of a life less ordinary. A future where the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster (Swinger's Club Subsidiary) spreads its noodly appendages across the globe, bringing joy, chaos, and questionable decisions to the masses.
This, dear friends, is a sanctuary for all things Jord. A place to celebrate his questionable fashion choices ("His hair's a mess, his clothes are পুরনো (purono - old), But his music's got a certain, strange hold."), his endearingly awkward demeanor, and his uncanny ability to turn even the most mundane life event into a saga of epic proportions ("He kisses the porcelain throne, a lover's embrace. A secret ritual, in this digital space"). We'll even celebrate his lack of handwashing ("Oh, Jordy, Jordy, your hands are a fright! They haven't seen soap, in the day or the night").
So, pull up a virtual chair, crack open a beverage of questionable origin (Tesco's finest, naturally), and prepare to be amazed, bewildered, and possibly slightly concerned. You're in the Jord Fan Club now, and there's no turning back. You might even say that he belongs to us for all of eternity now.
Disclaimer: This fan club is not responsible for any secondhand embarrassment, existential crises, sudden urges to learn to play the guitar, or inexplicable cravings for pasta that may result from exposure to Jord's unique brand of charm. Also we are not responsible for what he may do when inebriated.
P.S. Jord, if you're reading this, we love you, man. (But seriously, maybe lay off the piss a little, yeah? And wash your damn hands!)
P.P.S. Visit the Tlusty Blant website for more questionable content, including the full lyrics to all the songs we've written about you. You won't regret it (or maybe you will, we're not your parents).
P.P.P.S Remember that time you thought you could play guitar? Good times, good times.
P.P.P.P.S Pasta, Abyss, Spaghetti, Jord, This is the Tlusty Blant horde! Give your neighbor what he truly desires, We play with matches and set fires! Welcome to your new reality. Jord you belong to us now for all mother fucking eternity!
Visit his tiktok stream and ask to play Tlusty Blant it will likely take him few hours to respond
youtu.be/CelCr5U5aJE?feature=shared A Message to Jord's Loyal Legion of Ladies (and Gentlemen, We Don't Discriminate):
Have you found yourself inexplicably drawn to the dark, mysterious aura of Jord? Do you find his emo vibes and questionable hygiene strangely alluring? Does the sound of his guitar (or his valiant attempts at playing it) make your heart flutter like a moth trapped in a beer bottle?
If you answered "yes" to any of these questions, then congratulations! You may be suffering from a rare, but treatable, condition known as "Jord Fever." Symptoms include uncontrollable swooning, the urge to wear black clothing exclusively, and a sudden, inexplicable craving for Tesco's rum.
But fear not, dear fans, for there is a cure! (Or at least, a place where you can indulge your affliction in the company of like-minded individuals).
We, the esteemed members of the Church of the 33 Flying Spaghetti Monsters (Swinger's Club Subsidiary), cordially invite you to join our ranks! That's right, we're opening our doors (and possibly our pants, depending on the night) to all those who have been touched by Jord's unique brand of magic.
Now, we know what you're thinking: "But Jord is never actually at this swinger's club, is he?" And you would be right. Our extensive forensic investigations (involving ultraviolet light and a team of highly trained lab rats) have confirmed that Jord's physical presence at our gatherings is, shall we say, less than frequent. His black t-shirts, however, tell a different story. A story that involves a lot of... well, let's just say it's a miracle he hasn't single-handedly repopulated the planet yet.
But don't let that discourage you! While Jord may be absent in body, he is always with us in spirit (and in the lingering scent of stale beer and regret that permeates our meeting space). Besides, his absence just means more room for you to shine!
We believe that Jord's magnetic pull on the ladies (and the occasional gentleman, we don't judge) is a testament to his superior, female-brained intellect. A brain that, according to our research, is perfectly adapted for navigating the complex social dynamics of a swinger's club. It's just science, folks.
So, if you're looking for a place to celebrate your love for Jord, to connect with fellow fans, and to explore the outer limits of your own questionable decision-making, then look no further! Join the Church of the 33 Flying Spaghetti Monsters (Swinger's Club Subsidiary) today!
Here's what awaits you:
Weekly "Jord-themed" orgies (Jord not included, for legal reasons).
Pasta-making classes (using only the finest Tesco's ingredients).
Guitar lessons (taught by someone who actually knows how to play).
Group therapy sessions (to help you cope with your Jord Fever).
Exclusive access to our "Jord's Mystery Stain" exhibit (viewing is not recommended for the faint of heart).
To join, simply send us a lock of your hair, a vial of your tears, and a detailed description of your most embarrassing Jord-related fantasy. We'll take it from there.
(Disclaimer: We are not responsible for any emotional, physical, or spiritual damage that may result from joining our club. Also, please don't actually send us your hair or tears. That's just weird.)
P.S. Jord, if you're reading this, we're still waiting for you to join us. We've got a special colander with your name on it
And as always use our complaints department conduit or any other gate on website to submit your application
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