Out with the old and in with the new! We won’t lie to you, pinksheep was tired, pinksheep was old, pinksheep was very 1996; but not in a good way. The new pinksheep will be different. Think “lifestyle magazine” meets “monkeys on typewriters on crack” meets “tourettes syndrome”. Pinksheep will become the literary equivalent of fire shooting out of your (man) cunt; but in a good way.
Lookout for our ear porn section in cult(ure), our special lesbian section The other monologues, health will fall under warts and all. We can be highbrow too with vacuous rants and finger licking – our food section. Politics will meet home décor in Harold’s swim centre and homo beautiful.
You want more? Fuck you. Seriously. We might be throwing in a new set of forums if our dealer comes through. It will have all the style and grace you’ve come to expect from the internet, but have long since given up hope for; which is to say, it’ll look nothing like the pinksheep of old.
Photo courtesy of http://www.flickr.com/zachklein/
So sign up for a new account on pinksheep (no, we didn’t migrate you across, fuck that) upload a saucy picture and join in the frivolities of the new pinksheep, the queerest place on the internet.
The Administrator is an all knowing and all seeing giant brain in a jar who runs this website with an iron brain stem. Fish-flakes are always welcome. Thank you for not tapping the glass. 
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I’m not seeing ‘ear porn’ yet, should I listen out for it? Word on the grapewire is that some tart from the west will be writing about it. Is that me? If not I will hunt down your poodle and make it into a clutch purse.
I’m listening on the grapevine instead, I find it’s more reliable. It could be you, you could be A STAR!
I had a dream about being a star, but you took that dream kicking and screaming out into the street, whacked it with a pool noodle, drizzled chocolate syrup all over it, tipped a bucket of chips all over it and summoned the seagulls. All because you left me and moved to Melbourne! …I miss you
Western Australia is unkind and filled with putrid bogans and (gag) singlet’n'thong wearers. I feel so alone!
Michael, that’s a bit hypocritical… I seem to remember our nights out wandering the valley, you drooling over the bears, me over the pretty boys… the good old days… we had it good. Yet you gave that a golden shower and left me for Western Australia… the amazing land with two tall buildings, the red dirt, the bright sky, and the Fremantle doctor. If you’re now noticing the high number of wife beaters (and I’m not referring to the garment) then you’ve got nobody to blame but yourself.
Love the new look and new features, Joe! Good work!