The only people offended by your poppy are hayfever sufferers with poor eye sight

“And whilst we’re on the subject fucking bacon is not Muslim kryptonite.”

Around about this time every year you can almost hear the sound of drilling and sawing as a million bigoted cunts come out of the wood work to declare;

“Them Moslems…”

(all dick heads spell Muslim like this)

“can all go back home if dey don’t like are customs and poppys an dont respect are brave men an wimin!!!!!1

Yeah, I’m sure they’re all terrified of a plastic flower symbolising the millions of fallen veterans, many their own relatives, who died ironically fighting against fascist pricks like you.

If Muslims were offended by poppys then Bernard Manning would gave worn one every night.

No one hates your flag, wants you to remove your poppy or objects to you celebrating Christmas. The council are not going to force to say Happy Holidays instead.

And whilst we’re on the subject fucking bacon is not Muslim kryptonite. They don’t fear it like you do with a bath, so putting it on a door handle is a mild inconvenience at best you stupid inbred twats.

 

BBC axes Crimewatch to reflect the lack of Police

“As post Brexit hate crimes rise quicker than Nigel Farage’s blood pressure outside a Polski Sklep, the BBC has pulled the iconic series after 33 years.”

As post Brexit hate crimes rise quicker than Nigel Farage’s blood pressure outside a Polski Sklep, the BBC has pulled the iconic series after 33 years.

After all, what’s the point in appealing to the public to identify criminals when there’s no fucker about to make the arrests? That’s like appealing to America to embrace salad.

The Tories have cut more pigs than an abattoir since 2010 resulting in a Mad Max style dystopian present, only milder.

Police these days are becoming ever more impotant. Long gone are the Bobbies on the beat of old, dishing out thick ears to unruly kids. If they tried that now they’d get kicked to death by a group of 10 years, or sued.

Now if you see a Copper you’re tempted to grab your fucking autograph book. They’re like celebrities. In fact recent studies show you’re more likely to see somone from Emmerdale.

They’re a mythical threat, or protector, depending on which side of the law you’re on.

Pot heads can now chong away on super strength skunk with relative impunity, and you can phone 101 and fill in a survey with some spot ridden school leaver as you watch your stolen car being torched from accross the road.

It’s all good though, we’ll sort out our own problems in this big society. The few police left can concentrate on the paper work as online paedo hunters sort out our nonces, and we can get on with our pitchfork lynchings.

Fuck Crime Watch. Just replace it with 45 minutes of hate, then we can all take to Facebook and be Judge, jury and executioner.

 

Cordon thinks he’s Ricky Gervais but he’s more like Ricky Tomlinson – Only funny when someone else is writing

“He looks like a knifed a bag of onions with a trendy haircut. A 35 year old post op transsexual who’s just been given the correct hormone dosage.”

I’m not going to get all morally outraged about that fat bastard cracking rape jokes whilst the victims are still coming forward quicker than Weinstein’s colleagues to condemn the cunt, but I will get angry about the quality of them. I’ve seen funnier gags on a fucking hostage.

I know where he’s coming from, don’t get me wrong. He’s British, like Ricky Gervais. He can be controversial too, like Ricky Gervais. It’s just a crying fucking shame he doesn’t have comedy, or timing, like Ricky Gervais.

Cordon breaking America like his last deck chair still eludes me. I mean, they’re shallower than a paddling pool in a drought over there, and he’s hardly got the classic looks or physique of a star.

He looks like a knifed a bag of onions with a trendy haircut. A 35 year old post op transsexual who’s just been given the correct hormone dosage. A middle aged furry lipped lesbian with the inexplicable confidence of a footballer on crack.

He’s a squealing burst helium balloon of cunt. Sausage meat moulded into a humanoid shape by a clever chimp. He’s a cheeky mockney wanker. He’s a lad isn’t he? One of the boys, with a glint in his eye that you can just make out through one oh his fat slits.

Keep him America. You’re fucking welcome.

Harvey Weinstein’s casting couch has seated more arses than a Debenhams Santa

“What’s not cool is the fucking virtue signalling coming from every man and his dog, male stars in particular . This was clearly a very lose definition of a secret. If they were real men they’d have spoken well before the cat was out of the bag.”

For the last two days Hollywood has been reeling from the fact that ‘casting couch’ has more than one meaning like ‘you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours’, or ‘how much work are you willing to put in for this role?’

When it comes to movies, Wankstain is a fucking God. He’s like what Alan Sugar is to business, or what Jeremy Corbyn is to corduroy, and like everything else these days he’s polarised opinion more than abortion.

Everything is like fucking abortion now. Brexit: abortion, Trump: abortion, a fucking white and gold dress: abortion. There’s no middle ground anymore. It’s black and white. Right or wrong. It’s extreme. Think for yourselves.

If Weinstein did rape women and sexually assault others then yes, he should feel the full force of the law, but what happened to innocence before proven guilt? In this instance the smoke is billowing, but we can’t see the flames yet so we don’t know how big the fire is.

As long as people have been on this earth powerful men have been willing to exploit women sexually, and as long as those men have existed, there have been certain women who are ‘happy to oblige’ in exchange for what they want. In these cases who’s exploiting who?

I’m not saying all of Weinstein’s accusers are like that of course, I’m merely illustrating that it’s not, as I said, all so very black and white. If it were then why does a casting couch have so many connotations?

Many will say stupid things like “if this really happened then why didn’t people speak out years ago?”. Well that’s as simple as the person asking the fucking question. Fear. Weinstein is all powerful and can make or break a career in Hollywood, or see to it that you never work again. Or at least he could.

The women that have come forward are braver than you can imagine, risking everything from never working again to being shunned by the industry and everyone in it. Thankfully more came forward so they could support each other and be taken seriously.

What’s not cool is the fucking virtue signalling coming from every man and his dog, male stars in particular . This was clearly a very loose definition of a secret. If they were real men they’d have spoken well before the cat was out of the bag.

Theresa can fuck off as well. If you want to get outraged, look at the VIP and celebrity nonces a lot closer to home whom the government have protected for decades.

Unpatriotic senior citizen REFUSES to lay Rememberence Sunday wreath

She won’t even bow to herself.

In a break of tradition, our ageing Monarch, Queen Elizabeth II will pass down the duty of laying a wreath at the Cenotaph to renowned bush whisperer and Toby jug model, Prince Charles this Rememberence Sunday.

It’s just an another example of The Queen, who is now in her 91st year, slowly winding down her duties. It follows Prince Philip’s retirement from cutting ribbons and making racist remarks a few months ago.

The move has attracted a wide array of criticism from accross the political spectrum, with Conservative MP George Costington-Smythe stating;

“It’s most unpatriotic, one gets the impression that she’s taken leave of her senses and has come down with a touch of Corbynitous. Next she’ll be refusing to even bow for herself. It’s an affront to our brave men and women.”

In comments which have been accused of being ageist, the Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn, has applauded her decision muttering something about her being old, before burning a poppy and shitting on a memorial, probably. With him being staunchly anti British and that.

 

Unpatriotic Queen REFUSES to lay wreath at Cenopath

She won’t even bow to herself anymore

In a break of tradition, the ageing Monarch will pass down the duty to renowned bush whisperer and Toby jug model, Prince Charles, on Rememberence Sunday.

It’s just an another example of The Queen, who is now in her 91st year, slowly winding down her duties. It follows Prince Philip’s retirement from cutting ribbons and making racist remarks a few months ago.

The move has attracted a wide array of criticism from accross the political spectrum, with Conservative MP George Costington-Smythe stating;

“It’s most unpatriotic, one gets the impression that she’s taken leave of her senses and has come down with a touch of Corbynitous. Next she’ll be refusing to even bow for herself. It’s an affront to our brave men and women.”

In ageist comments, the Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn has applauded her decision saying something about her being old, before burning a poppy and shitting on a memorial probably. With him being staunchly anti British and that.

Shopping for Knob Heads aka Eat Well for Less

“Greg Wallace descends on people’s houses looking like a pimp farmer, then spends an hour telling them to shop at fucking Aldi .”

A fucking one hour show devoted to telling stupid people how not the waste money. There’s more than one series too! How many fucking idiots are there for that shit Harry Hill to patronise?

If you haven’t see it, Greg Wallace descends on people’s houses looking like a pimp farmer, then spends an hour telling them to shop at fucking Aldi . It goes a bit like this;

Greg: “I see you like to spend £82.40 a week on Persil. I bet we can bring that price down a fair whack for you, up the apples an pears, blah blah blah.”

Family of cunts: “Fuck off! I can well tell if my clothes ain’t clean enough with Persil innit. I’ll know if you’re shitting me you fucking bald jumped up Tomato salesman.”

There’s then a fucking 45 minute montage of people shopping and hosts tutting. It’s like a really shit episode of supermarket sweep with contempt instead of prizes, interspersed with some fucking cooking for three year olds classes to stop the stupid bastards spunking £50 a night on takeaways.

At the end of the show the family are amazed to learn that they’ve been cleaning their fucking clothes in Almat washing powder from Aldi, which is a tenner a gram cheaper than Persil, which is about the same price as a gram of Westminster coke.

They also learn that eggs is eggs, milk is milk and cabbage is fucking cabbage, with all the worldly awe of a toddler who’s just discovered a fucking electrical socket. The stupid fucking cunts.

 

Stop pouting it looks like you’re doing an impression of a dog’s arse hole

“Bambi ears and massive eyes aren’t attractive unless you’re into bestiality and noncing.”

In fact just stop taking fucking selfies altogether you vain twats, no more duck faces, and get rid of the filters because Bambi ears and massive eyes aren’t attractive unless you’re into bestiality and noncing.

It doesn’t make any sense. You take a perfectly nice face then contort it into that of a hazy eyed phantom trombonist. It’s supposed to make you look like you’ve got fuller lips but in reality it just looks like you’re having a fucking aneurysm.

What happening to spontaneous photos of a nice smile? The natural wrinkling around the eyes making them pop like beautiful glistening diamonds? There’s no wrinkling at all now, natural or otherwise, everyone looks like they’re a CGI representation of a real person from a shit 2008 film. Set filters to maximum Mr. Worf.

Just stop it, it’s not natural, sexy, or even nice. You just look like you’re trying to blow out candles in a room filled with smoke, or like you’re trying to felate a maggot after an acid attack.

Brexit has turned into a shit episode of Deal or No Deal

“The EU don’t want to make leaving look too attractive to its other members, and like Josef Fritzl with a new padlock, they’re going to make it as difficult as possible.”

“No deal is better than a bad deal” squawked the Disney vulture a few months back to an audience of Brexiters equally as deluded as the fans of the show, as she stood in front of 22 metaphorical boxes of shit.

No you heavy night personified, it isn’t. You know what’s even better than no deal or a bad deal? The deal we’ve already fucking got. Or a good deal, but so far your negotiating strategy is akin to renting a BMW, scratching the bumper, only offering 20% of the costs and then being miffed when the garage keep hanging up the phone.

Yes, the EU are as petty and awkward as a toddler at nap time, but you can’t whinge about talks stagnating when you won’t settle the bill, and David can’t even be arsed turning up to the meetings. That’s not negotiating, that’s the fucking silent treatment, like they staggered in at 2:30am without even texting.

The EU don’t want to make leaving look too attractive to its other members, and like Josef Fritzl with a new padlock, they’re going to make it as difficult as possible.

Think about it, they can’t ditch the divorce bill for every Thomàs, Ricardo and Adalard whilst letting them retain all the perks. If they did then what would be the point of a fucking Union in the first place?

Face it. We’re fucked. There is no luck, no chance, and the banker isn’t going to be surprisingly generous. It doesn’t matter that we brought a Mascot or that Mandy with box 3 has a good feeling.

Writing shit on the back of hands won’t make a difference and asking the universe will do fuck all. We can swap the box as much as we want and let Noel say a fucking prayer if we like, but deep down, we all know with 100% certainty that our box will be filled with shite.

Gove

“You look like the product of a sympathy wank into a defective jelly mould, you chinless pin eyed fuck.”

Oh Michael. Where to start? You look like a broken Pob sculpted from a block of pork luncheon meat by a furious Geppetto. A Geppetto who’s given up making the perfect real boy and can’t afford one of those highly dubious Chinese sex dolls. The meat isn’t even Spam. It’s Ye Olde Oak, from fucking Lidl. Slightly more salty, fatty and mottled.

You look like the product of a sympathy wank into a defective jelly mould, you chinless pin eyed fuck. You’re a Gerald Scarfe wet dream, a Danny Devito to a Chris Evans Arnold Schwarzenegger in a shit Twins.

You’re the knitted Christmas jumper from a demented Nan, a lost sock on a Monday morning. You’re fucking diet Pepsi.

You’re an architect of misery in a dystopian post Brexit nightmare, an adulterer of education and an expert denier. You’re a fucking crinkle headed smug faced wry smiler, and a mildly surprised climate change denier.

You’re a cunt.