HHF
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Huge Hairy Fucker (HHF) is a popular Russian children's book character. He was invented in 1903 by Nicolai Fuckov and appeared in several short, morally instrucive stories to teach the 'kiddiwanks' about how they should behave. Set in quasi-medieval times, "The Chronicles of HHF" feature HHF (or Boris, as he is sometimes known as) roam around the village correcting the misbehaviour of small children in the company of Faggot the Horse, his horse. The back of the book boasts that "HHF uses foul language almost as often as regular language and likes shouting."
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[edit] Impact on society
HHF is extraordinarily popular among the children of Russia and, in most cases, stays with them right through to adulthood. Many a Russian politician has been recorded reminiscing fondly of his school days and how he "wanted to act like HHF in the playground and so did all my mates!" It is a matter of contention as to who exactly said that, but some sources credit it to Aleksandr Wankerov, who was President of Russia between 1974 and 1978. Other notable Russian figures who are self-confessed HHF fanatics include Victor Pissov (the eminent drugged-up rapist), Tanja Cockotov (once finished 15th the World Knitting Championships) and Vladimir Sodov who campaigned strongly for the acceptance of Homosexual Rights and Horrific Wrongs in Russia.
[edit] Extracts
Many experts believe "The Chronicles of HHF" are fundamental to understanding and appreciating Russian cultural values and beliefs. Therefore two extracts are included for your perusal, assuming you wish to be better acquinted with Russian culture than you are at present.
[edit] HHF visits the witch
“I am a hairy scary motherfucker!” said the large man at the village shop, “and I fucking well want you to gimme a wanking chocolate bar, you big fucking heap of cack-assed bastardness. And none of your shit, you bollocks merchant gobshite.” The shopkeeper obliged gracefully, mindful of the fact that HHF would nail his bollocks to the counter if he refused. However, HHF had problems of his own. He was on a mission to get some foot medicine for his horse and, to this end, had to visit the village witch.
On his way through the village, HHF espied a small child peeing on a holly bush. Outraged, he enquired “What the fuck d’you think you’re doing, pisshead. You are a faggot, a donkey turd and a fucking shit-eater of a wankbastard!” As the child prepared to give an excuse, HHF picked him up, threw him into the middle of the bush and left with a final shout of “Harhar, shitebag cunt!” for the witch’s house.
“Bloody fucking hell, I wants some bastarding foot medicine for my huge big fuck-off shitty horse, ya bitch,” HHF announced on his arrival
“I don’t think so, what’s your name? I only even talk to people whose name I know, so I do. Because I’m a witch, don’t ya know,” replied the witch in a voice with the pitch and pleasantness of an air raid siren.
“Harhar, Boris, ya fag. And did you fucking well know you sound like a motherfucking goose that has got shitloads of avian flu in its bollocks and is also a fucking homo shite of a douchebag?” enquired HHF.
“I am aware of that, Boris. Here’s some medicine, don’t ya know, and I must commend you on your politeness, so I must.”
HHF, or Boris as he occasionally suffers to be referred to, returned to his horse. “Here, get this shit down you, Faggot, you big smelly farting wanking piece of monkey-bollocks,” he told Faggot the Horse. “And you’d better fucking enjoy, you huge bag of shitty frog’s bollocks, ‘cos I had a bloody hell of a time trying to make that fucking stupid bitch hand the crap over. Fuck me, I could just about have rip her cocking head off and play bloody football with it, for fuck’s sake.”
[edit] HHF lays down the law
“I’m a hairy scary motherfucker!” shouted HHF at the traffic warden. “And if you don’t fucking well let me cross this goddamned crappy road, I will bloody cut your fucking twatting head off with your own fucking lollipop sign, you dickshit bastard, and shove it right the fuck up your arse, you dick.”
“The sign or my head?” asked the traffic warden, stepping aside to let HHF cross the road.
“Fucking both, fucker,” replied HHF, loudly. He continued on his way with his horse, Faggot. They came to someone’s garden where a family of two small, despicable children, one of which was complaining:
“What the hell is this? Horse vomit?” it squealed, pointing at it’s food.
“It looks like total dogshite, you stupid fuck,” offered the older child.
“Right, you fucking stupid little sods!” shouted HHF, “That’s more than enough pish from you cunts! Eat your fucking horse vomit right now or I’ll fucking well throw you bastards right through that fucking window! Count of bloody three! One, twothree, right fuckers, eat some glass twatting arseholey cockhead wankbastards!” Whereupon, HHF launched both children into the living room.
“My work here is fucking well done,” he announced and left.
“Good pun,” said Faggot the Horse*
(* It’s a children’s book. Animals can talk sometimes.)
[edit] Mildly interesting background information and references and all that jazz
1. Horse vomits is a common delicacy in Western Russia.
2. Fuckov had no children.
3. Fuckov was awarded a total of 15 literary prizes for his work.
4. There were six HHF books published between 1905 and 1911.
5. Nicolai Fuckov was killed in 1912 by an angry moose, leaving behind the first two paragraphs of the seventh HHF book. It was tragic.
6. It was common practice in those days to lock mooses in small rooms as a form of light entertainment. Not many people know this.
7. All of this information, plus more, can be seen at the HHF Museum in Moscow, which hosts a rather fine collection of pictures of bearded men, assorted ornaments and little buttons that shout "Fuck you!" whenever you press them. It's said to be a great day out for all the family and was recently voted Europe's Most Informative Tourist Attraction.
