Let’s welcome Trump with open arms so we can call him a cunt to his face

We’re Britain, the most tolerant society on the planet. We have to be, the guilt of the empire courses through our veins like heroin in a Glaswegian.

We’re Britain, the most tolerant society on the planet. We have to be, the guilt of the empire courses through our veins like heroin in a Glaswegian.

We invented the stiff upper lip for fuck sake. We’re the masters of passive aggressiveness and we’d sooner briefly talk about the weather with someone we’re not too keen on rather than bluntly telling them we don’t like them. Anything for an easy life.

We hate our jobs, tolerate our families and just want to get home and drink alcohol to drown out the futile misery of it all, to the point where we’ll be late for an appointment because the fucking neighbour is outside and we’re hovering near the window until they dissappear because we don’t want to speak to them.

We don’t always love thy neighbour but we accept them. As long as no one interferes in anyone else’s business we’re pretty much ok, but rock that unity boat and you’ll feel our fucking wrath.

One thing we don’t do is shy away from righteous conflict. We don’t need a safe space here in the UK, and we challenge injustice wherever we see it. Mosley failed. UKIP failed. Britain First failed.

We don’t stand for that divisive shit, partly because of morals and partly because we want an easy fucking life.

So let that orange saggy chinned bewilderment gurner come. Let him stay at Buck Palace for all I care. Fuck it, roll out the red carpet for the prick, but let’s make sure we’re lined up on either side of it to tell him what a tiny brained half witted hyper cunt he is for endorsing fake news from Britain’s biggest morons.

If that fat bastard lets my kids down again this Christmas I’m going to the North Pole to sort him out

If that fat bastard lets my kids down again this Christmas I’m going to the North Pole to sort him out

All joking aside, hundreds of thousands of kids in our not so green and not so pleasant land live in abject poverty.

Years of austerity has taken its toll with many parents resorting to foodbanks just to feed their kids. We sadly live in an age where heating often trumps eating.

This isn’t political point scoring by the way, it’s harsh fact.

Well this year my fellow satirists decided to act on the initiative of The Rochdale Herald. Instead of just trying to make people laugh, Southend News Network, NewsThump, Angry People In Local News Papers and I, teamed up with them to make something amazing happen; To make a child smile.

The appeal hasn’t even been running for 24 hours yet and already hundreds of presents have been purchased!

The below is an explanation straight from The Rochdale Herald which outlines how you can be part of it, in some instances for less than a tenner. Come on. Let’s make a difference this Christmas;

“We’ve partnered with three charities, in Reading, Rochdale and Southend, who specialise in distributing toys and gifts to the children who really need them (Reading Family Aid’s Toys and Teens Appeal 2017, Rochdale Giving Back Christmas Toy Appeal and Southend on Sea Borough Council Toy Drive).

They have kindly given us some guidance on the sort of toys that prove popular, and those that are most in demand – you will no doubt be surprised to see a distinct lack of Xboxes, but lots of colouring in books, felt-tips and books to read. These children are not fortunate enough to have had the chance to develop expensive tastes.

We have also set up two Amazon wish-lists for these items, where ANY item purchased will be sent directly to the charity for distribution to a child that will be incredibly grateful to receive it.

You can find these lists here: http://bit.ly/satiresecretsanta

So – what can you do to help? Firstly, please go and visit the link above and see if there is a gift you would like to donate to a child in need this Christmas, and pay for it through Amazon like you would anything else you would buy. That gift will then go directly to the charity within 24 hours. Secondly, please share this post as widely as possible so it can do as much good as possible.

Due to the logistics involved in getting these presents to the families concerned, the cut off date for donations for the reading appeal is the 12th December, so we would hugely appreciate it if you could share this post far and wide today.

Treat this like you would the office secret Santa, except we’ve made it really easy for you to do something amazing instead of giving Dave in accounts a pint glass with his name on it. Let’s see if we can all brighten a few tiny faces on Christmas day.

Thank you for reading, and hopefully for sharing with your friends.”

You know we’re fucked when the most powerful man in the world backs a demented religious extremist over our own PM

Britain First are nothing more than an annoyance if ignored, in fact, I’ve had bigger movements with my morning shit, but now Trump has just given them a platform the likes of which they could only dream of.

Did CERN fuck up and not tell anyone? Did we all step into the fucking Quantum Leap accelerator and vanish around about the time America chose to elect that shit haired cunt monkey, or Britain thought it would be a grand idea to live off fucking bread and dripping for the rest of eternity?

Come on. We need the truth. No black hole was created when they turned that Large Hadron Collider on, but we definitely seem to have entered a parallel universe, like in a shit version of Sliders devoid of comedy mishaps along the way, or the promise of something better. Nope, we jumped straight into the worst possible dimension. We’re in hell.

It takes a lot to shock me these days. I’m mentally prepared now for the most bizzare possible outcome.

If I’m a fan of someone I expect them to die imminently, if I see an amazing comedy on TV I savour every second because I know there will never be another series, just infinite fucking Mrs. Brown’s reruns.

I look for ‘Nuclear Bunkers’ on Amazon now instead of 50″ 4k TVs. We’ve turned into the lowest common denominator,  post truth, alt-fact and anti fucking sanity society imaginable.

The most powerful man in the world shared three dubious propaganda videos from a dangerous, far right, minority UK based fringe group to his MILLIONS of followers. Let that sink in.

Britain First are nothing more than an annoyance if ignored, in fact, I’ve had bigger movements with my morning shit, but now Trump has just given them a platform the likes of which they could only dream of.

Has he actually listened to that toxic hawk browed hyper cunt? Has he seen her marching with giant white crucifixes and pissing people off outside mosques? If he has we should be very worried, and if I were Muslim and American I’d have a backup plan. This is 4th Reich shit.

To top it all off he chose to pick sides with fucking Jayda Fransen over the Prime Minister of the UK in a further Twitter spat, after he realised the real Theresa May had more than six fucking followers of course. You couldn’t make this shit up.

What a fucking time to be alive eh? It’s been nice knowing you all. Apart from you. You’re a cunt.

The Mail Online may as well replace the Katie Hopkins column with a serialised Mein Kampf

“She’s your dementia ridden grandad having a flashback in a German market. She wouldn’t just cause a scene, it would be a flying fucking wurst fest. Everyone would be scraping macaroon from their hair for the next three weeks and the floors would be stained claret red with fucking mulled wine.”

Let’s face it, it would probably be less offensive and easier to fucking read. ‘Mutual’ my arse, they dropped her quicker than an investigation into VIP paedos by the government.

How can you be too controversial for that fucking online shite rag anyway? What was the clincher, comparing immigrants to cockroaches, the final solution Tweet, or the gunships suggestion? I suppose we’ll never truly know, or care for that matter.

She’s a walking disaster, a fucking liability. She’s your dementia ridden grandad having a flashback in a German market. She wouldn’t just cause a scene, it would be a flying fucking wurst fest. Everyone would be scraping macaroon from their hair for the next three weeks, and the floors would be stained claret red with fucking mulled wine.

Where will I get my weekly dose of ill informed hate now? I suppose I could just wipe my arse on a copy of The Sun, butterly it in half and slowly open it to reveal an excrement rorschach test. That way I could just interpret my own hate piece instead of that cunt being paid to write one.

We’ve put up with this foot faced Pez dispenser of bollocks for too long anyway. First LBC and now The Mail Online. All we need next is for Twitter to hammer the final nail into the coffin of her shit controversy mongering career, by removing her rabble rousing, hate spewing account so she can fuck off back into obscurity, shouting abuse at foreign looking pigeons, surrounded by mangy cats before maybe reappearing in another 30 years like a shit Pennywise the Clown.

For now though, she’s gone. We don’t fear IT anymore.

There’s something you’ve never noticed about Chris Eubank before

And it’s staring you right in the face.

It’s not that he can’t say ‘Sister Act’ by the way, although that’s quite pertinent because he shares this feature with Whoopi Goldberg.

That’ right. He has no fucking eye brows and neither does Whoopi. Not one solitary eye complimenting hair.

Was it worth a click? Of course it fucking was because you never noticed did you?

Be honest. I only noticed because I read an article about Whoopi Goldberg having non the other day.

Then Boom!

I was scrolling through Louis Theroux documentaries on Netflix when I stumbled upon the above little beauty which hit me harder than a John Prescott egg retaliation.

Chris Eubank has no forehead buffer. He has verandaless eyes. He’s an expressionless wonder, a smooth operator.  He’s a fucking furless Terminator, the fucking legend.

How did we not notice? He doesn’t hide it with stick on ones. It’s there, plain as day!

You can go to bed now. Fuckity bye.

Man who lost his car keys files for divorce after his wife asks where he had them last

“If I knew where they were I wouldn’t have spent the last hour tearing the fucking house apart would I, you stupid bitch!”

Keith Miller from Aldershot filed for divorce from his wife Maggie yesterday after 14 years of marriage because he lost his car keys.

The 48 year old Plumber claims to have ‘seen red’ after Mrs. Miller asked where he last had them after he’d ‘searched the house from top to bottom.’

The couple were due to go on their monthly date night, which they were apparently already running an hour late for when the incident happened.

Baby sitter and eye witness, Sally Coates said;

“At first it was quite a jovial situation with Maggie saying he’d lose his head if it wasn’t screwed on. Even Robert (the Miller’s 10 year old son) jokingly asked Keith if he’d tried phoning them (the keys) which he appeared to see the funny side of.”

The mood in the house darkened though after Mr. Miller returned from the kitchen for the 20th time, for Mrs. Miller to ask innocently;

“Where did you have them last?”

According to Miss. Coates, Mr. Miller began shouting;

“Oh I don’t know! My fucking pocket? Do you think they’re in my pocket, I haven’t checked. Let’s have a fucking look shall we? Oh look. Not there! What a surpise. If I knew where they were I wouldn’t have spent the last hour tearing the fucking house apart would I, you stupid bitch!” Before demanding a divorce.

Mrs. Miller then reportedly removed her wedding ring before throwing it at her husbands face and shouting;

“I was only trying to help you useless bastard. You can’t find the sink or the rubbish bags most of time, or the fucking clitorus. Here, have your fucking ring back.”

 

House full of emotionless unfeeling psychopaths vote animals are the same

Straight after the vote, 157 foxes from around the country sighed with relief as they were being torn apart by packs of ravenous dogs, to guffaws and jeers from chinless inbred plumb throated turbo cunts, who were wielding little whips to twat the horses they were riding on.

The government have been concentrating on really important post Brexit issues this week, like voting that animals no longer feel pain or emotion, like cuddly fucking Terminators with broken kill chips.

Straight after the vote, 157 foxes from around the country sighed with relief as they were being torn apart by packs of ravenous dogs, to guffaws and jeers from chinless inbred plumb throated turbo cunts, who were wielding little whips to twat the horses they were riding on, because what’s the point in just watching animals get hurt eh?

The only things that sullied their day out was the silence of the foxes who no longer wimpered in pain on account of their new found lack of sentience, and the fact that they couldn’t vote to take our country back to pre science in fucking person.

They’re not savages though. They haven’t taken us all the way back to the bad old days when you could punch your dog in the face for shitting on the chesterfield, or for pissing  on the rug. That’s would just be barbaric.

You could probably get away with kicking a goat to death for shits and giggles though, or stoning a sheep until it’s catatonic because they’re thick as fuck aren’t they?

After the relative success of the vote they are now planning additional votes on homeless people being thrilled to bits with living on the streets, poverty not existing, the NHS being well over funded, no MP’s ever secually assaulting anyone,  and Brexit being a fucking all round brilliant idea.

£40 billion to leave the EU? You could buy 40 DUPs for that or some fucking cinema pick ‘n mix

£40 billion to leave the EU? You could buy 40 DUPs for that or some fucking cinema pick ‘n mix

It’s a fucking dear do this taking our country back malarkey. For £38 billion they can keep the cunt as far as I’m concerned.

Don’t we even get a Black Friday deal eh? After all it’s a strong British tradition isn’t it? Beating the fuck out of each other in a Tesco for a shit tele has been around forever, like tapas, or Elf on a Shelf.

So Merry Christmas! I’m sick to back teeth of writing about Btexit so here’s a little festive divorce bill poem instead to cheer you all up;

You can’t have any police or nurses or sprinklers for your flats,
You’ll lose all your rights except the one to torture cats.
We’ve decided that the homeless are not worthy of new homes,
But we’re doing up Buck palace and it’s being kitted with new thrones.
Don’t moan you whinging plebiscite you voted for this shit.
We don’t care it’s pennies to us and the poor are hardest hit.

Morrissey says controversial shit when there’s tickets or an album to sell

When the fucking inspiration for The Head from Art Attack opens his Jackie Stallone bile slit to spew out yet more arse gravy, you’re compelled to comment, like your fucking nan who’s come up to visit from the south coast and has seen her first brown person.

It’s like he’s found Katie Hopkins’ fucking playbook under a pile of her discarded bollocks pellets.

Why bother working your arse off trotting around doing mundane promotional interviews with those cunts on The One Show, when you can just say something inflammatory to some German publication, light the touch paper, then bask in all the free publicity whilst the money rolls in?

It works like a charm every fucking time in our ultra sensitive, outrage consuming society. It’s like he’s almost jealous of the attention Weinstein et al are receiving, but knows he’s duller than a copy of Geometry Weekly so jumps on the band wagon by defending them.

Look, even I’m doing it right now! It can’t be helped. When the fucking inspiration for The Head from Art Attack opens his Jackie Stallone bile slit to spew out yet more arse gravy, you’re compelled to comment, like your fucking nan who’s come up to visit from the south coast and has seen her first brown person.

Maybe he just resents time itself and he’s taking it out on everyone else. After all he looks like a Spitting Image self fulfilling prophercy or the bloated corpse of a depressed club land lookalike recently pulled from the ocean. He’s a fucking before picture to Quentin Tarantino’s after, the chubby pretentious cunt.

It’s International Men’s Day! – Just like the other 364 days of the year

It can be a bit shit at times working out what it means to be a man right now, but we need to let those parameters keep changing until we get it right. This is the only instance where sons should pay the price for the father’s sins.

You know, just to make all the blokes who kick off on Twitter moaning that we should have our own one every fucking International Women’s day aware.

I’ve seen some stupid shit floating around in the internet gutter today about how we’re all labelled rapists and perverts etc. Come on lads, you know that’s half fucking right anyway. If it isn’t then why do you clear your browsing history?

It’s not because you’re shopping for wedding rings is it, it’s because you know deep down that searching for ‘granny amputee rimming’ is a tad fucking pervy.

Do you honestly believe all women think we’re monsters, or that we’re somehow oppressed? Woman are our mothers, sisters and partners, and the only blokes who forget that usually end up bitter, resentful and single.

Don’t confuse the current media outrage/exposure wave with actual public opinion, that’s how fucking Trump and Brexit happened.

Accept that there are cunts among us and just try your hardest not be one. I know that our role is being constantly redefined in an ever changing world and that things were simpler for previous generations, but that’s how we progress and move on.

I agree, it can be a bit shit at times working out what it means to be a man right now, but we need to let those parameters keep changing until we get it right. This is the only instance where sons should pay the price for the father’s sins.

So. Enjoy your day if you must and don’t be a cunt about it. It means nothing and will continue to until we get paid less than women and have to endure endless sexual assaults as par for the course.