When did it become acceptable to go shopping in a fucking onesie?

“I don’t care if you’ve just freshly laundered your cosy fucking scrote suit, or if it’s straight off the rack from Georgio ArAsda, you look like grubby fucking skanks.”

I’m hardly Victorian in my values. I don’t expect people to dress up in their Sunday best when nipping out for a loaf, but is it too much to ask for them to get dressed in first place?

I know you’ve all got stressful and busy lives now with 24/7 work emails, longer hours and choosing the perfect fucking filter for your obligatory food pictures before you share them with all your friends who couldn’t give a solitary shiny shite if your antipasti was fucking lush, or your ‘cheeky vino’ was on point or not.

No one is too busy to put on some suitable outdoor wear. I’m sure George Osbourne doesn’t nip to Harrods in a fucking dressing gown and that cunt has 68 jobs. Ok, thats not fair. His servants, servant probably goes for him, but still, what’s your fucking excuse?

I don’t care if you’ve just freshly laundered your cosy fucking scrote suit, or if it’s straight off the rack from Georgio ArAsda, you look like grubby fucking skanks.

Sort your shit out you lazy fucking scrubbers. Save your fine silks for fucking sexy time with Wayne, or Trevor, or whatever the fuck he’s called, after surprising the cunt with the Wagon Wheels you’ve picked up from the Offy along with your 10 Sterling and litre of Lambrini.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *