Benefits to rise by £6 million!

“As people burn to death in buildings coated with pretty coloured fucking bbq fire lighters, and the rate of homelessness increases quicker than a DUP bribe, the UK’s richest benefit claimant is set for a fucking £6 million pay increase along with a £370 million lick of paint for Buck Palace.”

As people burn to death in buildings coated with pretty coloured fucking bbq fire lighters, and the rate of homelessness increases quicker than a DUP bribe, the UK’s richest benefit claimant is set for a fucking £6 million pay increase along with a £370 million lick of paint for Buck Palace.

I know what all the arguments for the extra cash are going to be already; She works really hard cutting all those fucking ribbons and she’s getting on a bit, her diamond encrusted, solid gold Crown is pretty fucking heavy nowadays, and it must be a strain what with Philip retiring blah blah blah. But do the benefits outweigh the cost to the public purse? My grandad is getting on a bit. He’d cut a fucking 1000 ribbons for some help with his gas bill come winter.

£370 million seems a little excessive to do up someone’s gaff, especially when you consider that a whole fucking tower block could’ve been coated in something not flammable for an extra 2 grand.

It’s time we got rid of this antiquated system of superiority. Scrap the royals and fuck hereditary peers too. Just because you happened to be born to certain parents, at a certain place, in a certain time, it makes you no fucking better than the rest of us.

Unless you had Bryan Cranston’s parents and you were born in the same place as him, at the same time and they called you fucking Bryan Cranston, because that cunt is a god. He deserves 80 odd million and Palace just for services to tele.

“Oh but what about all the tourism Malcolm?” Fuck the fat American twats. They only spend money in fucking Maccies anyway, so it goes straight home. If we do ditch the Royals then just don’t tell the cunts. They dont fucking see them anyway! Just leave a few of them soldiers with the daft hats knocking about and Bob’s your fucking uncle.

Tim Wattacunt and the Mahogany Duke prove daytime TV is a fucking abortion

Fuck talk shows and the odd quiz, TV producers have found something cheaper to make than a fucking omelette. The antiques show. Once reserved for Sunday night viewing and aimed specifically at those who can actually remember buying the featured items fucking new, the format now dominates the box, like Donald Trump at a Miss. World contest.

You’ve got that 7ft mahogany twat jawed gimp on ITV, the fucking ‘Duke’. Duke of what, Alzheimer’s? The cunt constantly summarises what’s just happened as if you, the viewer, has the memory of a gold fish. The auctioneer says ‘I’m at £50 with the man in blue’ and then Davey boy immediately pipes up ‘the man in blue just bid 50 bobby dazzlers!’ We know you cunt. We just saw it.

There’s an array of odd looking fuckers on his show. That gold obsessed, 70 year old lady boy, who looks like he’s auditioning to be a fucking tarot reader. The scruffy greasy haired fat twat with the long grubby nails, who pretends he’s skint then buy a worthless piece of shite for 50 grand, and the prick with the massive eyes who looks like Two Face out of Batman without the good side.

Then you’ve got the cast of fucking Balamory on the Beeb. Does it say on the job spec ‘must have a gap in teeth and/or must be Scottish’? Everyone looks like a fucking League of Gentlemen character. There’s that perpetually happy black haired bird who reminds me of a Textiles teacher that’s accidentally stumbled onto the set and thought ‘fuck it, how hard can it be?’ Then there’s that fucking huge bastard who’d keel over if he ever managed to tuck his fucking shirt in. Oh, and don’t forget the long haired, well spoken one, who always wears fucking primary coloured trousers. No cunt is naturally that pleasant. I don’t trust him.

Finally there’s the ring leader. The fucking poor man’s Duke, Tim Wattacunt. That gapped toothed, shit Leslie Phillips impersonator is more irritating than fucking bleach on a eye ball. Especially when he says ‘yeeeaah’ like a fucking distressed snake.

I hate being off work ill. I got excited by something called ‘Lose Women’, but unlike Ronseal, the fucking tin lied. They were just a bunch of stuck up cunts trying to out do each other.

Susan Boyle and a Disney cartoon vulture just struck a deal

Just a few weeks after Theresa May’s attempt to strengthen the Tories hand collapsed like a fucking Glastonbury reveller after Corbyn ascended the stage and healed the sick, the ultra right wing party are now allowing themselves to be propped up by the DUP.

Treeza has somehow managed to find the elusive magic money Tree, and has cut it down quicker than David Dimblebly silencing and opinionated lefty, in order to pay the DUP a billion pounds for their support.

Like a shit new beer, Tory Lite will be weaker and taste a little bitter. Having thrown away their manifesto quicker than a pile of incriminating MP paedo files (excuse the pun) they’ve basically turned into a one issue, Brexit obsessed party. Like Nigel Farage’s birthday celebrations.

I don’t know the full the details of the deal, apart from that the DUP have actually expelled some of the less popular Tory pledges like a school age Paul Nutall caught chatting shit again by an angry P.E teacher.

I don’t think much will change though, we’ll still have a fucking austerity driven, divisive set of psychopaths in charge, hell bent on putting profit before people like fucking Ferengi caricatures, looking after their rich mates whilst the rest of starve and burn.

Will Treeza be here much longer? Who gives a fuck? She’ll just be replaced with another emotionless, rubber faced droid, when the time comes, which I’m guessing will be sooner than later considering she’s about as popular as a turd in a swimming pool.

 

 

Tommy Robinson slams Islam as a violent religion before knocking 7 shades of shit out of someone

The far right pint sized cunt, was seen ‘defending himself’ at Royal Ascot earlier, by knocking someone to the ground and punching him repeatedly six times in the face.

Robinson, aka Stephen Christopher Yaxley-Lennon, aka Andrew McMaster, aka Paul Harris, aka tiny featured, miniature racist and shit Keith Lemon impersonator, is famous for bigotry, mortgage fraud and out twatting Piers Morgan.

The little prick often relishes in telling people that he’s read the Qu’ran, when in reality he’d probably fucking struggle to spell EDL, an organisation which he headed up from 2009 to to 2013.

The English Defense League promises to ‘pretect Ingland from the Muslamics’ by walking around towns pissed up, carrying flags and chanting racism like a smashed grandad after too much whiskey at a family Christmas party.

Like in the film Twins, Tommy ‘ten names’ Robinsom is the shit left overs. He’s Danny Devito to Paul Golding’s fucking Arnold Schwarzenegger.

We only know about this shit Napoleon because the media insists on giving the cunt a platform, like an over zealous, politically minded host at a dwarf convention.

It’s like when Nigel Farage was given 24 hour coverage by the BBC for five years, even though the tweed clad, frog faced, string free Thunderbird puppet didn’t even a hold a fucking seat. Where did that get us eh? Fucking Brexit that’s where.

My advice is to just ignore the microscropic poison filled irrelevance like that worrying lump under your arm pit. After all he’ll probably eventually  dissappear like shell suits or fucking UKIP.

 

Look who’s headlining Glasto!

Fucking Jezza that’s who! You can say what you like about the guy, but recently he’s come out of his shell faster than a fucking sanctioned hermit crab. I honestly thought the cunt was going to pull some fucking spoons out of his back pocket and start singing Kumbaya at one point.

Jeremy Corbyn is the happiest loser in history. He’s like the fat kid who’s secretly thrilled no one picked him for the football team, because he’s much happier whinging about not being picked than actually working up a sweat on the pitch and dealing with the giant cluster fuck that is Brexit.

He’s like the class geek who’s just shot down the bully with a killer line after years of abuse and has been rewarded with a kiss on the cheek from his favourite crush. He’s oozing more confidence than fucking Boris Johnson on a zip line.

I wouldn’t have minded being there you know. Imagine being in the front row and watching the bottles of piss hurting towards you literally turning into fucking wine mid air. The smell of fish stronger than in Russel Brand’s bed room after a night on the pull. The sons and daughters of Tory voters convinced they actually saw him levitate at one point because all they’re off their tits on trips and ket.

I heard Theresa May was’nt invited and that instead she was headlining a cheese festival in Dover, but was escorted away after it all curdled to chants  of “Fuck off” and “Step Down.”

Brexit: One year on and they’re all still fucking here!

A year ago today the 52% united and mobilised like a fucking walking street party, with their shitty plastic Union Jack bowler hats and England flags straight from a fucking Chinese drop ship.

The rhetoric of division was thrown directly into the eyes of the masses by the scum press, like an angry captive ape flinging its own shite into the faces of its mocking, gawping onlookers.

They had one purpose; ‘to make Britain great again!’, secret code for ‘look at that cunt over there, he’s stealing that job you don’t have.’

We were going to ‘take back control’, pump £350 million into the NHS instead of squandering it on fucking sombreros for those lazy fucking, napping Spaniards, and stop being dictated to by Europe with their stupid ideas of equality and fucking human rights.

But here we are now. The bargaining has started and our negotiating team are crumbling quicker than a Tory majority. Our hard Brexit is softer than a horny 90 year olds cock and Treeza has just told all of our doctors and nurses that they can fucking stay!

This wasn’t what we were promised on Independence day! This isn’t ‘taking are country back!’ This is just shit. Literally nothing has changed apart from we’re poorer and booze cruises will soon be a thing of the past.

Where’s UKIP when you need them? Ah that’s right, those fuckers disappeared quicker than a Tory manifesto the day after an election. Merry Brexit you cunts.

 

He didn’t bow for the fucking Queen the cunt!

“Look at him the disgusting terrorist shit. With his ill fitting Asda suit and his stupid fucking delusions of fairness. He lost. We won! Get over it! The fucking daft twat probably has dementia or something. We deserve to burn in tower blocks as long as we have a stong and stable economy”.

Said The Daily Express, or The Daily Mail, or one of the other bile filled, hard right idiot rag, aka the mainstream media. Probably.

I wouldn’t know, because on the rare occasions I’ve actually clicked on one of their links to have a proper gander at the latest shite, I’ve physically felt my IQ lowering quicker than Theresa May’s fucking poll ratings.

Fuck the 4 or 5 other people around him who didn’t bow. Fuck the fact that bowing at that point in the proceedings by someone of his standing isn’t actually protocol, let’s just go back to square one and revert to smearing the cunt in shit like we did two years ago.

After all, who gives a fuck? As long as there’s a piece about how the almighty saviour of Britain, Nigel Farage, should be knighted, and a big fuck off picture of the Union Jack, we know that our readers will swallow up any old shite like a pensioner on the fucking phone to a charity.

The comments section of our Facebook page will be filled with the incoherent musings of our brain dead, bullshit fed readers, poorly regurgitating precisely what we’ve literally just fucking told them to think.

Even if Corbyn should have bowed, which he shouldn’t have, would he still be in the wrong? Why is the Queen better than you or I? She was born into immense wealth and status, nothing more, nothing less. She eats, sleeps, farts and shits, and sometimes she’s hungover to fuck and in a right cunt of a mood.

Do you know who I would bow for? Any of our under funded, under paid and under appreciated emergency service employees who’s jobs get more difficult by the second. Our doctors, nurses, teachers. Anyone working with the sum total of fuck all in our rapidly declining country.

I wouldn’t bow to royalty if my neck was broken in face down position.

So there’s not much happening today apparently

Apart from the summer solstice, Royal Ascot, The Queens speech, and something called the fucking Day of Rage. Come On! I’m all for peaceful protest but that sounds like it’s going to be about as calm as Nigel Farage being introduced to his new Polish neighbours.

I know there’s anger right now. Real, heated, palpable anger. The type of anger you only feel after talking to fucking ‘John Smith’ for 3 hours on Sky’s ironically named helpline. The standing on a piece of Lego, white heat, fucking red mist rage that this incompetent, poor hating, shower of cunts of a government induces.

But this protest must remain just that. A protest. If this descends into a fucking grab a TV free for all, then you’ve fucking lost that argument quicker than Paul Nutall changes his fucking home town.

Smashing the fuck out of a local family run accountancy firm and trashing some innocent cunt’s ‘nice car’ isn’t holding the government to account. It’s just pissing your fellow city dwellers off.

That fucking walking scarecrow, Boris, is more excited about using those water cannons than David Cameron at a fucking petting zoo. Don’t give the warbling plum stutterer an excuse.

So. March. Chant. Wave your fucking signs and unite. Grow and swell like Micheal Gove’s head after being re-appointed to cabinet. Go back every fucking day if you have until someone fucker listens but please give the boys in blue, our fire fighters and our ambulance service a fucking rest today. They’ve had enough shit to deal with.

I don’t know who I hate more Tommy Robinson or Good Morning Britain for giving the cunt a mouthpiece

Just imagine if the day after the Manchester attack you buttered your toast, made your morning brew, then tuned in for your daily dose of Britain’s favourite voicemail enthusiast and big toe impersonator, Piers Morgan, to see what he was getting faux outraged about this morning.

Then imagine that sat on the sofa next to him was extreminst hate preacher Anjem Choudary, who’d been Tweeting the night before that girls often go to gigs in unsuitable clothing (in this hypothetical situation). You’d be more fucking outraged than Theresa May having to make eye contact with a member of the public.

People would be up in arms. The complaints line would fucking melt like Diane Abbott in a maths quiz. Fucking pitch fork sales would go through the roof and The Daily Mail would explode in a fit of ‘moral’ outrage like a vegan who’s just found out Haribos are cow based.

So why is it when Muslims are mown down by some alcoholic gobshite, who probably wasted his shit excuse for a life reading the Facebook pages of Britain First and The EDL, do we have an extremist, right wing, fanatical hyper cunt on breakfast television, spreading his bile filled, hate ridden bullshit as if he’s delivering a fucking pottery segment? As if this is the most normal thing in the world?

I don’t care if that pound land Farage, Piers, did grill him. I wouldn’t have cared if he punched the cunt in his divisive, hate inciting smug fucking face.

No extremists should have a platform, Islamist or Far Right, especially in front of millions of viewers. We need to starve the flames of hatred from oxygen and cut out this cancer from our society. If we don’t, how will this madness ever end?

The Daily Mail couldn’t wait to cash in on this one

Another day and another cunt goes out of his way to take the lives of innocents for a warped agenda. Is he mentally unhinged? Well of course he is, he’s white isn’t he?

He’s a fucking terrorist and he’s mentally unwell. They all are. It’s not normal to mow people down, go on a stabbing frenzy or blow yourself up. Regardless of your ‘reasoning’.

I don’t don’t do prayers but my heart goes out to the victims, a statement which sadly has become a cliche of late. It just sounds less sincere the more it’s uttered.

The scum press of course were circling the tragedy like the vultures they are with The Fail Online leading with;

“White van driver injures at least 10 people after ploughing into a crowd outside London’s Finsbury Park Mosque where hate cleric Abu Hamza once preached as Muslims finish their evening prayers”

Which was quickly changed after (I’m assuming) they realised that not referring to the occurrence as the terrorist attack which it so clearly was, and mentioning the unrelated Abu Hamza, may have come across as just a tad racist and hate inciting?

Yes, for a second, their thinly veiled facade as a reputable news source slipped away like cheap tower block cladding, revealing once again the disgusting, divisive, poison pumping shit rag we all know them to be.

Never take one of their ‘articles’ on face value. They’re loaded with agenda pushing buzz words designed to take you off guard. Sometimes it’s not so subtle, but other times it’s a master class in the dark art of propaganda.

Today we shall mourn, pick ourselves up, brush ourselves off and unite once again, as we have done for countless weeks now. It seems to me that terrorists want a war and that some publications just love to throw fuel on that notion.

Well fuck them both.