Paul Nutall give up the ghost man

I saw you on that debate, thumbing your invisible fucking power detenator, like a coked up Eddie Hitler who’s just found a bottle of meths. 

What is the point of UKIP? Apart from to become increasingly racist like a pissed up Sun reader on a tram. You’ve done your job, the clues in the fucking name; UK Independence Party.

We’re independent now, alone in a world of manicial despots like Kim Jong Un, President Duterte and fucking Theresa May.

Like an embarrassing one night stand, you’ve served your purpose.  So wash the cum out of your hair, wipe your mascara off, phone a taxi and fuck off.

Yes you’ve fucked us, yes it was exciting but now we can’t look you in the eye anymore. The people who voted out weren’t keen on how Europe is managed, but you keep going on about  fucking Burkas, like a grandad after his 6th can of Skol.

You’re done. Finished. The tories used you like like a dead pig at a millionaires party. Go on. Stand down, it’s just embarrassing you lingering around here, like the smell of piss on the back seat of a town centre taxi at 4am.


Working class tories prove that propaganda works

I’ve written in depth before about the amount of fucking poor porn on the box, you know, the shite that really gets your blood boiling and your veins sticking out like someone from Kensington who’s inadvertently stumbled into an Aldi.

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, watch Channel 5 at literally any time of the day.

There’ll be some cocky fucking fat twat who’s one Tunnocks away from a fucking heart attack, crying that she can’t keep her fucking swarm of screaming gobshites in Coca Cola and KFC, on the mere 2 grand more a year than you earn actually fucking working for a living.

You’ll want to smash the fuck out of your tele. That’s what this shit is designed to do, and guess what? It fucking works.

Shit like this is why we have working class tories. Turkeys literally voting for Christmas.

People think if they rent a nice flat, have a fucking Nissan on HP and a 42″ plasma from Littlewoods, that they’re somehow middle class and should vote in the same way.

Get a fucking grip! You’re one Brexit triggered redundancy away from the fucking dole queue you stupid bastards.

The welfare state is flawed yes. People take the piss more than Bernard Manning in a mosque, but it’s just a tiny percentage.

It’s a fucking safety net. People need it from time to time, like the 500,000 public sector workers that Britain breaking bacon pumper sacked off after deciding he was in charge.

If you’re voting Conservative because “them scroungers have sky and a big telly” then you seriously need to evaluate you’re decision and read another paper other than The Sun and watch another channel, other than 5.

I can recommend a video The Guardian posted yesterday, about a disabled woman crawling around her poorly designed house with no wheel chair access.

She has to pay for her meds now and guess what? She can’t fucking afford them, so she goes without.


She lives off fucking milk for Christ’s sake, in Britain in 2017. She’s not the only one and if you vote for more of that you’re a fucking cunt. I don’t care what class you are.



Figit spinners are just another passing craze like Pogs, UKIP or Tamagochis

People get carried away with it all don’t they? Remember that poor fucking woman who toiled for about 6 months making a fucking loom band dress?

It was in all the shite rags wasn’t it? Daily Fail: ‘Loom Band Dress sells for £2.5 million on eBay!’

There was a little picture of the woman’s daughter modelling it with an interview piece to go along side it.

“First I’m going to pay all my bills and then buy a private jet.” No you’re not love. No one in their right mind is going to give you millions of pounds for a fucking wearable fire hazard.

After the alleged sale you hear nothing about it for three weeks, until you glance the same woman on page 26 of The Sun, crying into a pile of a million ripped up loom bands. Devastated that the mystery buyer was taking more piss than Trump in a Russian brothel.

That’s an extreme case of fucking idiocy though, but these distractions are needed now more than ever I’d say.

Anything to get your fucking obese type 2 diabetes ridden cherubs to put down their fucking smart phones for 30 seconds.

Maybe not figit spinners though eh? The last thing they need are stronger thumbs.

Hmmm what to watch tonight?

Shall I watch Benefits Street or Benefits Britain? Benefits by the fucking Sea or 56 Kids and cunting Counting, about a slag with a flange like the fucking Euro Tunnel?

Or maybe I should watch Life on the Dole or Can’t Pay, We’ll Take it Away? Yeah I think I’ll watch that last one, that’s my favourite. Isn’t it nice how that old cunt with the wig patronises people for 10 minutes before ruining their lives and making them homeless in a really comforting way?

It’s fucking beautiful isn’t it? If I really wanted to look at a load of scrounging jobless scum I’d open my blinds and peer out of my fucking window, or even easier than that, look into my wife’s cold dead eyes.

It might be bit cynical of me, just a tad, but if I didn’t know any better I’d say that the TV stations and news papers had an agenda, like holding a spotlight to a tiny percentage of the jobless that take the fucking piss in order to make us all really fucking despise everyone on state ‘benefits’.

It fucking works though doesn’t it? I once caught ten minutes of Benefits Street when the batteries in my remote died.

I spent the next four hours driving around council estates and smashing the windows of anyone cheeky enough to own a fucking plasma TV.

I know better though. That’s Nazi propaganda shit right there isn’t it? It just wouldn’t happen in the UK in 2017.

Oh you’ve had a haircut?

Peter Sutcliffe also had a nice affro in the 80’s, and with hindsight he probably thinks he probably made a few bad decisions too. In fact I bet even that cunt would hold his hands up and admit he was fucking wrong.

And whilst we’re at it, what the fuck were you playing at last week? Can your expenses not stretch to a fucking calculator, for fuck sake? I bet even Jeremy has a fucking abacus lying around somewhere.

Don’t you think Labour are going to find it hard enough to fight as it is without you mumbling bollocks live on air? You were less prepared for that than a fucking Jehovas Witness knocking on the door of ISIS, you fucking bowl cutted bull shitter.

You may as well walk around with a fucking placard that says ‘Vote Labour, we’re as good with money as a smack head who’s found a purse’

Get your fucking act together you fucking tiny eyed human sphere. Patronising the fuck out of someone doesn’t make you right, just ask Theressa.

You’re like a shit substitute teacher who always covers RE because you know the sum total of fuck all and can’t control the class, you fucking condescending snake voiced slow warbler.

If you can’t be arsed actually knowing the fucking policy you’re discussing then revert to the tory way, repeat the same bullshit phrase over and over again or just evade the fucking question, it’s as fucking simple as you, you fucking lobotomised hyper cunt.

Terrorist Sympathiser?

I wouldn’t worry. Even if Corbyn was a secret terrorist what’s he going to do?Knit you a cake? Yogurt bomb you? Or maybe he’s going to grow you a particularly sour lemon in his fucking allotment.

Put your Daily Heil down for one second and open your fucking eyes. You’ve been crying like a little bitch about the nasty banks and the rich getting richer for last 9 years.

Now there’s an actual alternative to the austerity driven, divisive, poor murdering status quo being offered up, and you don’t want it because he wears a suit from Asda and spoke to a cunt in 1983.

Theresa speaks to a cunt everyday.  You know, the one flinging his own excrement from the front bench whilst taking the piss out of foreigners, and shaking his head and stuttering like a parkinsons sufferer on speed.

Yes there are concerns.  Diane Abbot is about useful as a tissue condom, even with a sensible hair cut. And yes, John McDonell looks like a local working man’s club chairman.  You know, the guy who only drinks tomato juice and collects everyone’s 50p membership on payday.

I’d take actual clowns making mistakes whilst genuinely trying to help people, over psychopaths pretending to be clowns making no mistakes, whilst trying to hurt people.

The Conservatives make no fucking bones about it either. Fuck the foxes, that’s just a distraction.  They want you to work all your lives, pay your taxes then take your kids inheritance from them the moment you start shitting yourself.

If you haven’t already then watch the leaders Q and A from Channel 4 and Sky News yesterday.  You can choose soundbites and disdain or answers and passion.  The choice is yours.



You think bloody difficult is a compliment

They’re right, you are a fucking difficult woman. Countless police and NHS staff stand in front you and tell you that everything has turned to shite.

Yet you don’t answer their questions though do you? You just parrot off your bullshit soundbites and rhetoric, like a terminally dull liar with mild tourettes, standing in a fucking burning building with a water pistol.

Careful with those micro expressions! It’s perfectly natural for politicians to express a flicker of shock or disdain at a question.

You fucking hate criticism though don’t you? Those crecent eyes turn into cold dead laser daggers, resting on your saggy hate bags, as your mouth gets stuck somewhere between a smirk and a ‘fuck you’.

Yes, if you hear something you don’t like, you look like someone has just shat in your living room, or even worse fed a fucking homeless man.

Corbyn wiped the floor with you today. The man has as much charisma as a fucking antique rug, but do you know why he won? Because he gave actual non scripted answers, treated people like humans and acted like a fucking human.

I’d call you May-Tron you’re so fucking robotic, but then you’d sound like something which would actually benefit the NHS.

Oh and stop trying to smile. People would have more time for you if you just left your expression at its default souless psychopath resting position.

Sean Spicer is right, even Hitler wouldn’t stoop so low as to use chemical weapons

Apart from the vast sheds he had built filled with the chemical gas Zyklon B, to murder millions of innocent Jews and everyone mentioned in Cher’s hit song; Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves, in his human abattoir experiments.

Sean Spicer, you’re a fucking chemical weapon. If your balls had dropped you’d actually sound quite sinister instead of sounding like a coked up choir boy playing war with his senile old grampa, you fucking clueless holocaust denying cunt.

You’re not a spin doctor, more a spin temp on his first day after graduating from Trump university. As far as PR goes, Trump would be better served employing a rabid chimpanzee who launches balls of its own rolled up shite at the waiting press than you.

You’re a fucking joke of a man, if you were written into The Thick of It by the pure genius of Iannucci himself, your character would be expelled at the editing stage and he’d be sectioned under the mental health act for writing such unbelievable bollocks, you hoof wanking pig eyed castrato.

You’re a fucking shite stuttering news abuser on speed, a cartoon drawing of Joseph Goebbels scrawled by the mouth of the mutated limbless offspring of a retarded pig and an ex PM, who’s just had a GCSE history lesson on World War 2 delivered by a pissed up Farage off his bonce on Spice, you fucking hollowed out husk of a shit impression of a cunt.

Come the fuck in or fuck the fuck off you cunt.


Who needs experts when we have this perma tanned shit gibbon?

“A man who counts golf and sexual assault as his pass times”

Dear experts;

On behalf of the human race I’d like to apologise. Over the last few months we’ve collectively decided that you all chat shit and that centuries of research and proof is all bollocks.

We’ve elected a luminous, star spangled, perma tanned, shit gibbon, in the role of world’s most powerful man.

A man who counts golf and sexual assault as his pass times, so you can userstand why he denies climate change in favour of making a quick buck and drowning his fucking great grand children in the process. The art of the fucking deal huh?

That’s over in the good old US of A though. Luckily it won’t affect us. We don’t need an ozone layer in the UK, a lobtomised dick head in a suit told me that, so fuck you experts.

No, in UK we did things differently. We listened to a pig fancying, shit Odo impersonator, hell bent on stealing votes from a bigoted Thunderbird puppet.

In doing so we ignored countless governments and economists on the say so of a twitching, bespectacled, professional back stabber and a giant toddler with a penchant for writing bollocks on the side of a bus at the detriment of all of us.

Yes, we ignored all the sensible advice because ‘we don’t need experts.’

What good are facts and figures when you can just watch someone shouting opinions at you through the tele eh?

“You’ll financially cripple yourself if you do that”

Ah but we’ll have fucking bendy bananas!

“The water level will steadily rise as all the ice melts because the ozone layer will continue to deplete, leading to eventual global catastrophe.”

Yeah but we want cheap fuel.

Even the fucking chimps think we’re idiots. So again, we’re so very sorry.


7 billion morons.

“What tym dose Asdas close?”

“When r the kids back in school?”

Use fucking Google for Christ’s sake. The only answers you’re going to get off Facebook are 15 minutes later from your equally brain dead friends, who, incidentally, are probably asking fucking Beyonce on Twitter. You shouldn’t be asking social media when your fucking kid’s term starts.

Sandra: “Had it wiv men me”

Mandy: “Aw, you ok hun?”

Sandra: “PM me”

Ah the attention seeker and the nosey bitch. A match made in heaven. Sandra doesn’t have any friends and Mandy hasn’t spoke to her for four years. After this very public exchange, Sandra will inform Mandy that Paul, her dosser of a boyfriend, went out on Friday and didn’t return until Tuesday. She’ll go on to explain that he stank of cheap perfume and wouldn’t answer his phone, and that she knows what he’s up to but will never leave him because she loves him ‘more than life itself.’ Mandy will take great pleasure in telling the girls at bingo what a mug Sandra is and what a cunt Paul is.

“Only 5 of my friends will share this post”

You’ll be lucky you unoriginal cunt. They won’t share it because it’s shite. If you want to talk about an illness that’s affected you or raise awareness about something, don’t use some fucking impersonal generic template and beg for shares.

P.S. Please share this. Only 3 of you cunts will.