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“He publicly advertises that he's a virgin when he's rich enough to hire a whore or 2. I don't get it.”
“He's not a real lesbian. I know, we wrote a musical together called Virgin Musicals.”
“You have to admire Virgin Trains for their attention to detail. EVERYTHING is shit.”
“You think THIS guy's rich?! I found his net worth in my lower intestine once you know.”
“I wish I had that kind of money.”
The story of Lord Sir Mr Rich Tard (Rich Bitch) Virgin Chelsea Branson OBE, KBE, CBE, Ph.D, MSc, C.Ht, BA, CIMA, WWJD is a long and tedious tale. How it begins is sketchy at best, but after many years of piecing together fossils and archaic cave paintings, scientologists believe we are as close as we’ll ever get to understanding it.
Around two thousand and five years ago, in a small and rather quaint Middle Eastern town, a young virgin lay on her back in tremendous pain, on the floor of a tool shed behind a hotel. Surrounded by cattle, she went into labour as the sun descended beneath the distant horizon. It was a night which would see the birth of a man destined to change the face of humanity, forever.
Abandoned by her disgusted husband, who refused to believe that she hadn’t slept with another man after she revealed her pregnancy, the virgin tossed and turned for hours as she struggled to understand the child she held in her arms. How had she given birth to a bearded pullover wearing baby, when she hadn’t even consummated her marriage, let alone slept with another man. Her forbidden rendezvous with a goat earlier in the year, languished in her subconscious.
The virgin wept in her own self pity until suddenly, the shed was filled with light a thousand times brighter than the brightest star, and a man with more than a passing resemblance to Christopher Walken leapt through the window, with shredded paper taped to his flapping arms pretending to be an angel. He took her by the shoulders and shook her violently, screaming at her, “ARE YOU MAD?! ARE YOU?!” until he finally released her and kicked her to the ground. As she lay stunned, the angel explained the truth of her child to her, he told her it was half man, half goat and that in two thousand years, a video recording he had made of the conception would be available on a world wide network known as the intarweb. She refused to accept it, she couldn’t, wouldn’t believe it and so she killed herself, but not before bestowing a name upon her son- Richard Virgin Branson, so that he'd never forget what she was when he was born.
Richard Branson is mentioned in many different sources as inventor of magnetic audio cassette, but it is more likely that he invented the Branston's potatoe.
The ninja story of Richard Branson
A ninja walks into a baker's and asks for a hot cross bun. The lady behind the counter says "That'll be 75p"; he says "OK" and then hands her the money. He waits for his change as he handed her a one pound note (Quite rare these days. The lady wondered whether he was a foreign ninja but she could not tell because he was wearing his ninja attire although she was sure he wasn't Chinese as he wasn't squinting) and she hands him a 20p and a 5p change along with his hot cross bun in a carrier bag.
The ninja leaves the shop and continues on his walk home where he bumps into a fellow ninja. He says "WUCHAAAA!" and the other ninja replies with "WOOCHHAAAA!" and the ninja thinks "Hmm, he must be an African ninja as he did not speak my lingo."
The ninja marches on home after his brief encounter with the presumed African ninja. Upon getting home, he finds out that the TaeKwonDo people have been and set fire to it. He wanders the street pondering what to do, and eventually decides to go back to the baker shop with the only option he can think of, asking the lady behind the counter if he can stay at her house. She says yes. He goes over to her house with her and they watch a movie together. They slowly undress each other on the couch. She takes his ninja attire off; it turns out he was half-Chinese but like half-British as well, hence the normal eyes. However, just as he is about to enter her haven of cream, his blade slips and slices right up her cunt and comes through the top of her head.
The half-British-Chinese ninja is in shock. What shall he do?
He gets rid of the body by chopping it up into a vast menagerie of differently sized pieces using his big, long, hard ninja sword, and then puts some of the smaller parts in a pot to stew. The larger body parts are put in the oven to cook throughly, since the ninja decides he would rather not give himself testicular cancer. He leaves to turn nice and crispy and chewy for a good couple of hours, then phones his friends (he only has two) and invites them round for dinner. One declines as he is away on a ninja course learning how to tackle snakes on a plane, so the other ninja friend grudgingly accepts his proposal. His ninja friend turns up the door 2 minutes later - it turns out he conveniently lives right next door. He says "Wow Mick, you been doing a lotta reeaaading!' Yes, the ninja friend is a Scouser ninja.
They sit down to dinner and the ninja (now known as Mick apparently) serves his Scouse ninja friend the body parts of the woman. "Mmm..." says the Scouse ninja, "...tastes just like that little Asian child I ate last month." Then, suddenly, the mood darkens drastically. "OMGWOW KIK!" says the Scouse ninja. "'ANG ON A MINUTE MATE, 'OW YOU GOT DIS 'OUSE? DIS WAS MARY'S 'OUSE!."
There is an eery silence which lingers.
The ninja (Mick) tells his sad story to the Scouse ninja, who proclaims "I DUN WANNA BE YO FRIEND NO MO!". This provokes Mick into attacking him with the thigh chop of the dead lady, beating the him to the ground. "Is he dead?" wonders Mick. To make sure, he goes to acquire some shaving foam and a razor and shaves off his moustache as it's a scientific fact that no Scouser will allow you to shave off their moustache. "He's dead!" cries the ninja. He realises he has to get out of there. He quickly exits the house, leaving the dead Scouser ninja on the floor, thinking to himself that he has at least a weeks head start as no one cares about the Scousers.
He runs to the bus stop and waits for the number 43. No, not '43', but the number 43 bus. It starts to rain heavily - unfortunately, there is no bus shelter, only him and an old lady. She kindly asks him "Would you like to stand under my umbrella? ella? ella?." How can he refuse the offer? They both stand in the rain under the old lady's umbrella. The number 43 bus arrives, but as the ninja begins to board it, he says out loud, "Shit, I haven't got any money - fucking ninja attire has no pockets!" However, in a shocking twist of events, the old lady kindly pays for him. This sparks a passionately furious sexual relationship between the two, but that is a story for another time. They sit together and the old lady asks the ninja why he is naked and covered in blood. The ninja replies in the only way he can ... with a devastating JUUUUDO CHOP!
The bus stops to a halt. What will the ninja do? He makes a dash for the exit but is blocked by a pram, which BTW, should not be at the front of the bus! There is a pram section in a bus for a reason! Anyway, thwarted by his attempt to leave the bus, he pings a bogey at the driver who in return goes "EWW EWWW EWWW!" and falls out the driver door. The ninja sits in the driver's seat and is now in control of the bus. He revs up the engine and gets on his way when he hears a binging sound. Bing, bing, bing.
"Oi mate! This is my stop!" exclaims a passenger. So the ninja stops and allows the passenger to leave. He then continue on his way. He sees a pregnant girl waving down the bus at a bus stop, so he pulls over and lets her on. She hands him £2 and he thinks to himself, "Hey, profit here..." He continues along the route picking up more passengers, and by the end of the day has made well over £500. He thinks to himself that there's a gap in the market for this kind of shit, so he opens up his own bus company and is now a self made millionaire ninja.
He also owns a string of other businesses including trains, planes, cola, etc.
His name: Richard Branson. Richard Branson was the ninja all along.
Very Early Years
Following the death of his mother, Christopher Walken arranged for Richard to be adopted by a young Roman gardener called Pontius Pilate, who was amazed by the walking, talking, goatboy who had been born just two days before. Pilate noted with delight just how nimble the young boy was with his hands, and immediately introduced him to his back yard, which measured an impressive 60.513 m³.
Being taught such landscaping tricks as the erection of crosses, Branson took to Pilate's lessons with fervour, later influencing Zen Gardening with his keen eye for detail. But the local people had watched and they knew that Pilate had no wife or penis. With infinite curiosity, they observed the goatly powers exhibited by his incredibly young child and it wasn't long before a raging mob swelled at the gates of the Pilate residence.
One of the screaming villagers wanted the boy as his personal gimp, another argued that such a goatly creature should be shared and his talents exploited for the common good, a third stripped naked and pressed his overweight body against the wall whilst writhing to the rhythmical beats of public fornication, and all the while King Arthur fought his way through them, slicing off heads and detaching limbs as he rode his horse, Red rum, desperate to claim the only boy he knew could pull the sword from the stone once again.
Luckily for Richard Branson, a time travelling, bald, visually challenged and farm animal loving maniac from the future just happened to open a wormhole to his time, which sucked him toe first through a vortex and into the infinite twists and turns of a spiral slide fashioned to resemble time itself. In what seemed like seconds to the child, over one thousand and sixty years passed when the vortex finally evaporated and forced Richard out through Dr Evil’s stinging sphincter following a particularly spicy kebab the night before.
All this carnage taught Richard the most important lesson thusfar. Seeing scarlet blood covering white intestines he found that he was inexplicably, irreversibly and deeply in love with this colour combination.
A Virgin Childhood?
It was a moment later that a tall man with a centre parting and a beard, the likes of which had never before been seen on a human being before now, walked through the door and introduced himself as Richard Branson, but the young goatboy leapt forwards and proclaimed that it was he who was Richard Branson, not the impostor. Dr Evil didn’t know what was more confusing, the fact the goatchild had just emerged from his arse, or that the goatchild, who looked to be no more than a couple of months old, was walking and talking and claiming that a fully grown man was pretending to be him.
The man knelt down and lifted the young Richard into the air, and explained everything to him. In just a few years, the young Branson would invent a time machine and attempt to head back in time to stop his virgin mother from killing her self, but his second, adoptive father, Dr Evil would steal the time machine, and accidentally trigger the creation of a spiral slide imitation wormhole, which would leap through time and snatch the young Branson from Pilate’s garden, bringing him to the 1960’s where he would emerge from Dr Evil’s arse and be confronted by his future self, who himself had come from the future.
Many years passed before goatboy, as he was now affectionately known amongst his peers, finally broke away from the causality loop of his future self explaining that he would be brought forwards in time and go on to invent a machine which would be used by Dr Evil to go back in time and bring him forwards in time when he would then go on to invent the machine which will be used by himself to travel back to the sixties and explain to himself that the machine will be used to create a wormhole that extends back through time and is used to bring him forwards in time where he would meet his future self and create a time machine before travelling to the sixties to tell himself what will happen.
Even though he escaped the causality loop, to this day he's haunted by henchmen asking him if he wants an orange sherbet. Naturally this assault has taken its toll on his already precarious sanity. Once in a while an Englishman would drop by as well, explaining at great length how a mysterious guru called Shastri taught him how to hypnotise henchmen into bothering Richard about sherbets. He had found his archenemy.
Having an evil economic genius as a stepfather, Richard was destined to become the greatest businessman the Earth had ever known, and made his first million by the age of 13, though what exactly he was selling in order to generate this income, remains unknown, probably forever.
Some have postulated his fortune-making product was a Swedish-made penis enlarger, the plans of which allegedly stolen from the British interloper. When pressed about this time after time, Branson reported: Honestly, it's not mine.
Mentioned in many different sources as inventor of magnetic audio cassette, but scholars believe he probably just invented Branston pickle.
- Simon Sorrell and Haydn Cartwright - His Demi-gods
- Lord King - The Chief Executive of British Airways
- David Neeleman
- Ivan Halil - the world's second astronaut
- Geoff Dixon - His Best Friend and the owner of Qantas
- Lindsay Lohan
- Peter Gabriel
- Hanson - The amazing pop trio paid the ransom when Branson was kidnapped, prompting the famous headline "Hanson pay Branson Ransom" Mmmbop indeed.
- Mike Oldfield