Month: December 2017

You know the ones, they won’t give anything to the homeless because it’s the government’s fault, they’ve had the same poppy for seven years and they won’t buy a poor kid a Christmas gift because they have issues with Amazon’s fucking tax arrangements.

Well thankfully not everyone is like that. Satire Aid was an overwhelming success and that’s in no small part down to my readers.

The Rochdale Herald, NewsThump, Southend News Network, Angry People In Local News Papers and I are amazed that The Big Fat Secret Santa appeal did so fucking amazingly well.

Since its launch I’ve been genuinely touched by some of the things that happened along the way. We’ve had people buying gifts from over seas, we filled an empty warehouse in Fife and we bought every kid in social care in Rochdale multiple presents. All of us, together.

It didn’t change the way Amazon pays its tax but it will make a fuck tonne of kids smile on Christmas morning and that’s what this was all about.

So. For the last time this year I thought you brilliant bastards deserved a final update;

You bought 22,000 gifts!
You spent £150,000!

This is what you bought

1055 packs of Crayons
569 footballs
753 copies of the Grufalo
535 copies of Paddington’s Little Library
200 guitars
And more than 2,000 boxes of Lego!

Mission Christmas are struggling with the sheer volume of gifts which is unprecedented, because we inundated both Leeds and Manchester.

Your generosity so overwhelmed Metro Radio’s Mission Christmas appeal in Gateshead that we had to spend the day on the phone to Amazon asking them to ship the gifts to a warehouse (donated by the incredible people at the logistics company Simpson Bros) because there was no longer any room in the lobby!

If you want, you can still donate a gift to Mission Christmas. The cheapest one is under 2 quid.

Just go to www.satireaid.co.uk choose a gift and we’ll send it to them to pass on to a kid in need.

Thank you so much and fuckity bye.

Like always the shops will be closing for a day on the 25th. So why does every cunt go and spend another 200 quid on Christmas Eve like it’s the end of days?

You have enough whiskey in for uncle Mick. He’s never going to smash through two litres. 4 packets of paxo is more than enough for one family and what’s with all the loaves? I know it’s Jesus’s birthday but he’s not going to be impressed.

It’s the same every fucking year, millions of cunts clogging up the aisles like pieces of fat in a yanks artery, fighting over Hovis and Semi Skimmed as if it were oxygen in a broken lift. Stop it. It will still be available on Boxing day.

If I ever run out of stuff on Christmas day I don’t panic, or attack a closed Tesco Express with a fucking sledge hammer, I just calmly nip to my local Asian corner shop for all my bready needs.

Can you lot start doing the same please? That way Christmas Eve shops can be used for their primary purpose, which is to allow pricks like me to try and manufacture a last minute Christmas dinner from tinned carrots and Smash.

A father of young twins bought himself a smart watch as an early Christmas present.

33 year old Baker, Keith Jones frm Somerset, purchased the £300 device to track his steps, fitness level and the number of calories he burns each day, however things didn’t go quite according to plan.

“My girls are 3 months old and I thought it was about time I got in shape, you know?” He said.

“I never treat myself and I thought the watch would be a good start in tracking my calories and what not, but to be honest all it does is tell my how little sleep I get.

He continued: “I’m a baker you see, up at 3:30am every morning.  Add the night feeds and I’m getting about 2 hours kip, or 1 hour 48 minutes and 33 seconds of deep REM sleep according to the watch. I’ve not lost any weight but I’m definitely more depressed.”

“I don’t really have the time to excercise so it’s basically just a very expensive time piece which I’m not even that keen on, aesthetically speaking, in fact it’s not even that when the battery runs out and the time is wrong after charging.”

Mr. Jones’s long suffering wife, Kim, isn’t happy with the purchase either;

“He’s obsessed. It’s not half as bad as makes out you know. He set the alarm for the middle of the night the other day just so he could check how little sleep he’d had, so he could wake me up and let me know! The lazy shite never gets up with the twins anymore either.”

Mr. Jones soon hopes to return the watch with The intention of replacing it with a Tassimo coffee maker which he will, 100%, definitely use.

After successfully blagging millions of beard  clad morons into buying records again over the last few years, the music selling  behemoth is now going to target the same hipster demographic with videos.

Launching in January, the humble video cassette will be re-branded as a ‘hyper visual and sonically brilliant medium’.

A store manager for the company said;

“It’s the perfect blag and now is the perfect time. VHS died just after a few classics were released. We still have 130 pallets of the original Star Wars trilogy re-mastered in our stores. Those cereal eating bearded fuckwits will lap that shit up.”

Word is already spreading about the relaunch and many market traders are keen to cash on the new craze by refurbishing old stock.

Barry Sledge who lives near Manchester’s Northern Quarer said;

“There’s so much buzz about this in all the milkshake barbers. Everyone wants a video recorder and I’ve got 15 of them in the lock up. I was gonna chuck them out last year but I’m glad I didn’t. I’m gonna make a right fucking killing. It’s record players all over again”

HMV refused to directly comment but research suggests that the first film to be released on the ancient medium is Clerks.

Your virtue signalling has been noted and we all think you’re being a bit of a cunt.

A couple of days ago I posted an article that said that every time you reminded me that our campaign to buy kids in poverty a Christmas gift was being fulfilled by Amazon a fairy died and a child didn’t get a Christmas present.

Fuck me the virtue signallers didn’t disappoint did they? Up they lined in their hair shirts to tell us how virtuous us they all are for boycotting Amazon, they also did some finger wagging and tutting before being told to shut it or fuck off.

It’s all well and good banging on about inequality but if your main goal is to try to stop people buying gifts for kids cowering in a domestic violence shelter or shivering in some shit bed and breakfast on Christmas morning you’re being a cunt and frankly you can get tae fuck.

Because, get this, you lunatics have now bought 16,000 gifts worth £113,000 and it’s still going.

Mission Christmas in Leeds has, thanks to the 4,000 Christmas presents you sent them hit their target to give 24,000 kids in West Yorkshire a Christmas, Mission Christmas in Manchester has had even more. Every child in Rochdale known to social services got a present thanks to the 2,500 you sent them.

The same is going in Burnley, Newcastle, Liverpool, Fife, Rotherham Reading, Southend and Colchester. Thousands upon thousands of Christmases.

There’s still time to donate a gift because Mission Christmas in Sheffield will still be accepting presents until Friday. So go to www.satireaid.co.uk choose a gift from the Amazon wish list and choose the gift registry address on checkout.

Job done. And if you don’t want to because you think Amazon are dicks that’s fine, try keeping it to yourself, going to a toyshop buying a gift and giving it to a toy drive. They exist all over the country.

And if you don’t follow our friends who came up with this at The Rochdale Herald and our pals at NewsThump, Angry People in Local Papers and The Southend News Network you should.

If you can’t afford to buy a gift there’s still stuff  you can do. Give this post a share, tell your mates or just be nice to somebody and wish them a Happy Christmas.

Merry fuckity Christmas.

It’s nearly that time of year again when most people break up for Christmas, then head out for drinks with their work colleauges before getting  absolutely Barlowed. And that’s just fine. For most of us.

Seasoned piss heads avoid this day like Fosters, or bathing, because they know their favourite boozer will be packed to rafters with more cunts than an antenatal ward, or a UKIP conference, because it’s the anniversary of the once a year drinker.

The once a year drinker is a strange beast. Wearing a Georgio ArAsda jacket from circa ’97, he’s Mr. Quiet all year round, then like a shit Banana Man he magically transforms after a whiff of shandy. He becomes 70’s Bloke! An inexplicable brown kipper tie appears accross his chest and his trousers mysteriously flare. Every Jaeger Bomb unlocks a new twat level, and he goes from Clarksoned to Manninged in just 4 drinks.

He’ll kick off with any man, grab women’s arses with seeming impunity and go all ‘On The Busses’ with the barmaids. You can spot these cunts from three pubs away and hear them from five. There’s literally fucking thousands of them.

The pain is short lived however, as you’ll usually see three bouncers kicking the shit out of them at around 6:30pm, but some manage to evade this fate by simply staggering off into the distance. You’ll see these ones shouting at a taxi to  take them home covered in kebab sauce at 7:30pm.

Don’t bother going out on Mad Friday and if you do treat it as a twat safari. This is what it was like when Britain was Great. Apparently.

Grasping onto Colonial triumph like Katie Hopkins with her last dim ray of limelight is nothing to be proud about.

Patriotism, if you’re British, is a redundant concept. Or at least it should be, like phone boxes, or UKIP.

Are you proud to be British? I’m not. I’ve only got to go for a walk in a city centre to see levels of poverty you’d associate with a fucking third world country.

Rickets are back. Rickets for fuck sake. In the UK, in 2018.

The only thing preventing us going full on Dickension is the lack of a fucking happy ending.

I’m literally waiting for the Tories to announce a new inclusive work house scheme to tackle the homelessness crisis. Nothing shocks me anymore.

In spite of all of this though we prevail. As citizens we’re Del Boy’s three wheeler. We just keep going. Fuck that actually, je suis Del Boy!

As a people we’re brilliant. Untouchable. We carry our communal stiff upper lip around like a badge of honour.

We rarely riot when we see injustice, just tut, shrug and declare how utterly fucking shit it is, before rolling up our sleeves and helping the worse off when the government can’t be fucked.

They know we will, they rely on it for fuck’s sake, they know they can keep pushing and pushing and we’ll always pick up the pieces.

Double homelessness? We’ll hit the streets with donated coats.

Starve benefit claimants? We’ll buy extra in our weekly groceries to feed them.

Thieve off an old man? We’ll wreck your fucking funeral.

Inspite of all ills and all our imperfections, we are British and we help each other. Don’t celebrate a fucking flag, celebrate that.

 

As hundreds of thousands of people freeze to death on our streets this Christmas, raise a glass and spare a thought for poor old Nigel Farage who has to slum it, penniless, in his £4 million hovel.

Yes that’s right, the tweed clad serial UKIP leader and chief architect of the UK’s imminent demise, man of the people, Nigel ’40 fags’ Farage is completely brassic.

At this very moment tens of thousands of sanctioned unfortunates accross the country are begging their family members for any amount of cash so they can keep our hero in Bollinger till at least the new year.

Right now Sir Bob Geldof is shouting ‘fuck’ at random strangers and the people of Africa are sending him hampers of oysters, beluga cavier and vintage cases of Châteauneuf-Du-Pape.

How much fucking contempt does this stringless Thunderbird puppet have for the millions of working class people he lead astray before vanishing into a fucking golden lift?

Fuck off you Britain breaking cunt. You won’t find any sympathy here. Not while you’re stood in your Savile Row suit earning 75k a year and pleading poverty. This just proves how completely out of touch you are in your 1950’s little England tiny village utopia.

Take a drive up north you fucking leather faced oil excreter. I dare you. Go to a food bank and flash the punters one of your famous yellow toothed grins and tell them that you’re skint. See what happens.

Park the Bently off the estate though eh? You fucking toadesque rabble rousing Trumpophile.

Every time a twat says “but it’s Amazon” a fucking fairy dies and a child doesn’t get a present this Christmas.

I’ve been banging on about poverty this year pretty much non-stop and you all seem to be pretty much in agreement with me on this. The fact that there are kids without fucking shoes in a first world country is a fucking outrage.

I can guarantee you this. The parents who’ve been left behind by this thundering clusterfuck of a government and can’t afford to buy their children a pair of shoes are going to be either choosing between buying a pack of pissing crayons or eating food this Christmas.

All the time I hear people whining “somebody should do something” well here’s a thought; why don’t WE do something about it.

Together with our friends at The Rochdale Herald, NewsThump, The Southend News Network, Angry People in Local Newspapers and the really weird Garlic Bread Memes we’ve done just that.

We set up an Amazon wish list with a bunch of toys on it and put the delivery address for several different charities, including Barnardos and Salvation Army, who are distributing presents to kids without a pot to piss in and; fuck me sideways; you heroes have bought 23,000 presents worth about £155,000 quid so far!

BUT. We can still do more. There are about 40,000 children in Yorkshire and Lancashire alone that are living below the poverty line. So while we’re feeling pretty chuffed to have done what we’ve done there’s still loads more to do.

If you can afford £1.23 you can go on our wishlist and buy a packet of crayons and a kid will be playing with them on Christmas morning. If you can afford more there are loads of options available on the list to suit any and all budgets.

If you genuinely can’t afford to buy anything, then you can still do something. Share this appeal. Tweet this appeal. Tell your friends to go to www.satireaid.co.uk and buy something. It’s that simple.

And before you say “but it’s Amazon” I fucking know. But if you have another way of instantly buying 10,000 presents for children with holes in their socks a gift in the next three fucking days, I’m all ears.

In the meantime, suck it up, don’t be a cunt and get involved.

I’ll be honest with you, I couldn’t be fucked even watching that video. If I want to see a snotty kid crying for 10 minutes I’ll tell my son Santa is a load of bollocks. He’d be mortified, but 17 year olds are such snow flakes these days.

Joking aside, I’ve read bits about this latest fauxtrage viral. Not too much though because it does my fucking nut in, like X-Factor, sobriety, or people.

One day he’s such a brave boy and all bullies are cunts, he’s being Tweeted by Justin Bieber, and has 50 grand in his sky rocket.

The next day his family are racist scum, the celebs don’t like him anymore, and the money has dissapeared quicker than a promise on the side of a bus.

Then he’s a scammer, his family are scammers and it’s all an act, and in a cruel twist of fate the very people who were supporting his cause initially, are now bullying the poor cunt themselves, spitting vitriol all over him like fucking neutered acid attackers.

But then we find out his dad is a bit of a cunt and we’re allowed to feel sorry for him again. It makes less sense than fucking episode of Sherlock.

It was the same with the murdered ape, Harambe or whatever the fuck it was called. These stories go nuts for a week and then you forget all about them.

My advice is just ignore it, switch off your critical thinking and just let The Sun tell you what to believe a week later when they’ve made their mind up. Like you do with everything else you fucking lobotomised outrage junky cunts.