Terms of use
Last updated: April 1, 2023
1. Agreement
Welcome to Cheeky Condiment. These Terms of Use (the “Terms”) apply to your access to, and use of, cheekycondiment.shop, and any other website which links to these hastily-written and deliberately vague Terms (collectively, the “Services”.) The Services are provided by Cheeky Condiment Co. (“Cheeky Condiment” or “we”) and your use of the Services is subject to these Terms.
2. Use
The Services may not be used by anyone under the age of 18 without the supervision of a parent or guardian who agrees to be bound by these Terms. Look, let’s face it. If you’re under 18, it’s unlikely you’d admit to your parents that you’re interested in this stuff anyway.
3. Privacy
Please refer to our privacy policy for information about how we collect, use, and share the fact that you’re a fool.
4. Miscellaneous
Nothing in these Terms is considered to be lawful and—if you did plan of taking us to court—who’s going to believe you thought doing anything on this website was a good idea?
5. Changes
We may change these Terms from time to time. If we do, we’ll send you an email—unless you’ve been sensible enough to use a disposable email address—because we know there’s not a cat-in-hell’s chance of you ever coming back to this page.
6. Disclaimers
CHEEKY CONDIMENT CO. DOES NOT PROMISE THIS WEBSITE OR ANY CONTENT, SERVICE, OR FEATURE WILL BE ERROR-FREE, OR UNINTERRUPTED, OR THAT ANY DEFECTS WILL BE CORRECTED.
THE MILKY WAY SHE WALKS AROUND, ALL FEET FIRMLY OFF THE GROUND. TWO WORLDS COLLIDE, TWO WORLDS COLLIDE. HERE COMES THE FUTURE BRIDE. GIMME A LIFT TO THE LUNAR BASE, I WANNA MARRY A MONSTER FROM OUTER SPACE. I FELL IN LOVE WITH AN ALIEN BEING, WHOSE SKIN WAS JELLY—WHOSE TEETH WERE GREEN. SHE HAD THE BIG BUG EYES AND THE DEATH-RAY GLARE, FEET LIKE WATER WINGS, PURPLE HAIR. I WAS OVER THE MOON—I ASKED HER BACK TO MY PLACE. THEN I MARRIED THE MONSTER FROM OUTER SPACE. THE DAYS WERE NUMBERED, THE NIGHTS WERE SPENT IN A RENT FREE FURNISHED OXYGEN TENT. WHEN A CYBORG CHEF SERVED UP MOON BEAMS DONE SUPER RAPID ON A LASER BEAM. I NEEDED NUTRITION TO KEEP UP THE PACE WHEN I MARRIED THE MONSTER FROM OUTER SPACE. WE WALKED OUT TENTACLE IN HAND, YOU COULD SENSE THAT THE EARTHLINGS WOULD NOT UNDERSTAND. THEY’D GO “NUDGE NUDGE” WHEN WE GOT OFF THE BUS, SAYING “IT’S EXTRA-TERRESTRIAL, NOT LIKE US. AND IT’S BAD ENOUGH WITH ANOTHER RACE, BUT FUCK ME, A MONSTER FROM OUTER SPACE.” IN A CYBERNETIC FIT OF RAGE SHE PISSED OFF TO ANOTHER AGE. SHE LIVES IN 1999 WITH HER NEW BOYFRIEND—A BLOB OF SLIME. EACH TIME I SEE HER TRANSLUCENT FACE I REMEMBER THE MONSTER FROM OUTER SPACE. ¶ DOUBLE PARK, DON’T LOCK THE DOOR. PUSH THE PEDALS THROUGH THE FLOOR. GIVE IT LOADS AND THEN SOME MORE. IT”S A HIRE CAR BABY. GRIP THE STICK, GRIND THE GEARS, WATCH THAT DISTANCE DISAPPEAR. NEVER YOURS IN A THOUSAND YEARS. IT”S A HIRE CAR BABY. HIRE-CAR, HIRE-CAR, WHY WOULD ANYBODY BUY A CAR? BANG IT, PRANG IT, SAY TA TA. IT”S A HIRE CAR BABY. BAD BEHAVIOUR ON THE STREET. SAVE YOURSELF A COUPLE OF SHEETS. COLLISION RATE KEEPS IT SWEET IT”S A HIRE CAR BABY. SHOW THIS MOTOR NO RESPECT. BUMP IT, DUMP IT, CALL COLLECT. WHAT ELSE DO THE FIRM EXPECT? IT”S A HIRE CAR BABY. DRIVE THE FUCKER ANYWHERE, JUST LIKE YOU DON’T CARE. PUT IT DOWN TO WEAR AND TEAR. IT”S A HIRE CAR BABY. PRAY THE PERSON WHO HIRED IT LAST DIDN’T DRIVE IT QUITE SO FAST. THIS DAKARUM DODGEM DOESN’T LAST. IT”S A HIRE CAR BABY. TRY NOT TO KILL YOURSELF, OR INJURE ANYBODY ELSE. DON’T FORGET TO FASTEN YOUR BELTS. RENT IT, DENT IT, BANG IT, PRANG IT, BUMP IT, DUMP IT, SCORCH IT, TORCH IT, CRASH AND BURN IT, DON’T RETURN IT. LOST DEPOSIT, LET ’EM EARN IT. WHO CARES, IT’S ON THE FIRM. IT’S A HIRE CAR BABY. ¶ I WANNA BE YOUR VACUUM CLEANER, BREATHING IN YOUR DUST. I WANNA BE YOUR FORD CORTINA, I WILL NEVER RUST. IF YOU LIKE YOUR COFFEE HOT, LET ME BE YOUR COFFEE POT. YOU CALL THE SHOTS. I WANNA BE YOURS. I WANNA BE YOUR RAINCOAT FOR THOSE FREQUENT RAINY DAYS. I WANNA BE YOUR DREAMBOAT, WHEN YOU WANT TO SAIL AWAY. LET ME BE YOUR TEDDY BEAR, TAKE ME WITH YOU ANYWHERE. I DON’T CARE. I WANNA BE YOURS. I WANNA BE YOUR ELECTRIC METER, I WILL NOT RUN OUT. I WANNA BE THE ELECTRIC HEATER YOU’LL GET COLD WITHOUT. I WANNA BE YOUR SETTING LOTION, HOLD YOUR HAIR IN DEEP DEVOTION, DEEP AS THE DEEP ATLANTIC OCEAN. THAT’S HOW DEEP IS MY DEVOTION. FASTEN YOUR SEATBELTS SAYS A VOICE. INSIDE THE PLANE YOU CAN’T HEAR NO NOISE ENGINES MADE BY ROLLS ROYCE. TAKE YOUR CHOICE. MAKE MINE MAJORCA. CHECK OUT THE PARACHUTES, CAN’T BE FOUND. ALERT THOSE PASSENGERS, THEY’LL BE DROWNED. A FRIENDLY MUG SAYS “SETTLE DOWN.” WHEN I CAME ROUND I WAS GAGGED AND BOUND, FOR MAJORCA. AND THE EYES CARESS THE NEAT HOSTESS. HER UNAPPROACHABLE FLIP FINESSE. I FOUND THE MEANING OF THE WORD EXCESS. THEY’VE GOT LITTLE BAGS IF YOU WANNA MAKE A MESS. I FANCIED CUBA BUT IT COST ME LESS TO MAJORCA. (WHOSE BLONDE SAND FONDLY KISSES THE COOL FATHOMS OF THE BLUE MEDITERRANEAN.) THEY PACKED US INTO THE WHITE HOTEL. YOU COULD STILL SMELL THE POLYCELL. WET WHITE PAINT IN THE AIR-CONDITIONED CELLS. THE WAITER SMELLED OF FAKE CHANEL, GAULOISES, GARLIC AS WELL. SAYS IF I LIKE I CAN CALL HIM “MIGUEL” WELL REALLY. I GOT DRUNK WITH ANOTHER FELLA WHO’D JUST BROUGHT UP A PREVIOUS PAELLA. HE WANTED A FIGHT BUT SAID THEY WERE YELLA’ IN MAJORCA. THE GUITARS RANG AND THE CASTANETS CLICKED. THE DANCERS STAMPED AND THE DANCERS KICKED. IT’S LIKELY IF YOU SANG IN THE STREET YOU’D BE NICKED. THE DOUBLE DIAMOND FLOWED LIKE SICK. MOTHER’S PRIDE, TORTILLA AND CHIPS. PNEUMATIC DRILLS WHEN YOU TRY TO KIP IN MAJORCA. A STOMACH INFECTION PUT ME IN THE SHADE. MUST HAVE BEEN SOMETHING IN THE LEMONADE. BUT BY THE BALLS OF FRANCO I PAID. HAD TO PAWN MY BUCKET AND SPADE. NEXT YEAR I’LL TAKE THE INTERNATIONAL BRIGADE TO MAJORCA. ¶ I’VE SEEN THE POISON LETTERS OF THE HORRIBLE HACKS ABOUT THE YELLOW PERIL AND THE REDS AND THE BLACKS. AND THE TUC AND ITS TREACHEROUS ACTS KREMLIN MONEY—ALL RIGHT JACK. I’VE SEEN HOW DEMOCRACY IS UNDER DURESS. BUT I’VE NEVER SEEN A NIPPLE IN THE DAILY EXPRESS. I’VE SEEN THE SUEDE JACK BOOT THE VERBAL COSH. WHITEHOUSE WHITELAW WHITEWASH BLOOD UPTOWN WHERE THE VANDALS RULE. CLASSROOM MAFIA SCANDAL SCHOOL THEY ACCUSE—I CONFESS. I’VE NEVER SEEN A NIPPLE IN THE DAILY EXPRESS. ANGRY COLUMNS SCREAM IN PAIN. LOVE IN VAIN DOMESTIC STRAIN. DIVORCE DISEASE IT EATS AWAY, THE FAMILY STRUCTURE DAY BY DAY. IN THE GRIM PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS, I’VE NEVER SEEN A NIPPLE IN THE DAILY EXPRESS. THIS PAPER’S BORING MINDLESS MEAN, FULL OF PORNOGRAPHY THE KIND THAT’S CLEAN. WHERE WILLIAM HICKEY MEETS MICHAEL CAINE, AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN. I’VE SEEN MILLIONAIRES ON THE DHSS. BUT I’VE NEVER SEEN A NIPPLE IN THE DAILY EXPRESS. ¶ LIKE A NIGHT CLUB IN THE MORNING, YOU’RE THE BITTER END. LIKE A RECENTLY DISINFECTED SHIT-HOUSE, YOU’RE CLEAN ROUND THE BEND. YOU GIVE ME THE HORRORS, TOO BAD TO BE TRUE. ALL OF MY TOMORROWS ARE LOUSY COZ OF YOU. YOU PUT THE SHAT IN SHATTER, PUT THE PAIN IN SPAIN. YOUR GERMS ARE SPLATTERED ABOUT, YOUR FACE IS JUST A STAIN. YOU’RE CERTAINLY NO RAVER, COMMONLY KNOWN AS A DRAG. DO US ALL A FAVOUR, HERE, WEAR THIS POLYTHENE BAG. YOU’RE LIKE A DOSE OF SCABIES, I’VE GOT YOU UNDER MY SKIN. YOU MAKE LIFE A FAIRY TALE. GRIMM! PEOPLE MENTION MURDER, THE MOMENT YOU ARRIVE. I’D CONSIDER KILLING YOU IF I THOUGHT YOU WERE ALIVE. YOU’VE GOT THIS SLIPPERY QUALITY, IT MAKES ME THINK OF PHLEGM. AND A DUAL PERSONALITY, I HATE BOTH OF THEM. YOUR BAD BREATH, VAMPS DISEASE, DESTRUCTION, AND DECAY. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, TAKE YOURSELF AWAY. LIKE A DEATH A BIRTHDAY PARTY, YOU RUIN ALL THE FUN. LIKE A SUCKED AND SPAT OUT SMARTIE, YOU’RE NO USE TO ANYONE. LIKE THE SHADOW OF THE GUILLOTINE, ON A DEAD CONSUMPTIVE’S FACE. SPEAKING AS AN OUTSIDER, WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE HUMAN RACE? YOU WENT TO A PROGRESSIVE PSYCHIATRIST, HE RECOMMENDED SUICIDE. BEFORE SCRATCHING YOUR BAD NAME OFF HIS LIST AND POINTING THE WAY OUTSIDE. YOU HEAR LAUGHTER BREAKING THROUGH, IT MAKES YOU WANT TO FART. YOU’RE HEADING FOR A BREAKDOWN. BETTER PULL YOURSELF APART. YOUR DIRTY NAME GETS PASSED ABOUT WHEN SOMETHING GOES AMISS. YOUR ATTITUDES ARE PLATITUDES, JUST MAKE ME WANNA PISS. WHAT KIND OF CREATURE BORE YOU? WAS IS SOME KIND OF BAT? THEY CAN’T FIND A GOOD WORD FOR YOU BUT I CAN… TWAT!
— JOHN COOPER CLARK