If you’re ok with murdering elephants for kicks then your head should be mounted on a fucking wall

Admit it, you only lifted Obama’s elephant trophy ban so your fuckwitted son can bring home a tusk and make a fucking ivory dildo out of it.

Hunting fucking elephants for fun though, aren’t you the clever cunt. That requires less skill than a fucking Wetherspoons chef, open door, put food in, press button, wait for fucking ping.

Not only is elephant hunting patently stupid, it’s completely fucking pointless. I mean, how hard can it be taking aim at a massive lumbering three tonne target and squeezing the trigger? What do your other hobbies include, Kitten wrestling? Fucking bunny boxing? You fucking geriatric orange embarrassment.

Elephants are sophisticated, have long memories, communicate in ways we’ve yet to understand, live in loving family groups and mourn their dead, sort of like giant grey anti Trumps.

After the conservationist Anthony Laurence died two separate herds of the wild elephants he saved starting showing up at his house on the anniversary of his death every year. Don’t believe me? Google that shit.

How the fuck do they know he’s dead and how the hell do they know what day it is? Let’s not bother finding out, let’s just shoot them and hang their heads on the fucking wall like an imitation Picasso.

You’ll only remember the anniversary of your Presidency with fucking Facebook’s ‘On this day feature’ you fucking walnut faced chin smuggler.

What makes some dickhead standing on the Serengeti look at a majestic elephant kicking up dust in the Twilight think ‘quick, lets shoot it!’

Admit it, you only lifted Obama’s elephant trophy ban so your fuckwitted son can bring home a tusk and make a fucking ivory dildo out of it.

What’s next? Lift the ban on fucking children so your mate Epstein can get his end away?

I say legalise hunting, but make it fair. By all means kill an elephant but you have to do it naked with your bare hands.

I hope in a parallel universe somewhere there’s a fucking family of elephants admiring the wall mounted head of a dead president, with the perpetual bemused expression of a man who’s just seen the gleeful glint of revenge in a gun toting elephants eye before the fatal kill shot , you fucking melted hay mained cunt.

I’m not a veganised tri sexual omni trans who identifies as organic hummus – Should I be worried?

Personally I don’t agree with gender exploration in children, especially really young ones, it just doesn’t seem right or necessary to me, like religion.

They say you can never have too much of a good thing, unless you’re American and the good thing is sugar of course, but currently we have too much politically correct. There. I said it.

Call me a Tory wanker and burn me at the stake. I don’t fucking care, but before you gather the pitch forks and light the torches, just read that back.

I didn’t say we’re too politically correct. I said there’s too much of it, and if you don’t believe me just watch any magazine show, read any magazine, or open a fucking newspaper. Not The Mail or The Torygraph obviously, how can you enjoy a wank if you’ve contracted fucking Siegheilitous?

Look. I’m a leftie and proud. I don’t fucking ‘identify’ as one, I am one, to me anyway, although some readers would assume I’m Blairite scum because I happen to think Communist era Russia was a bit too murdery, or Communist China for that matter. Fuck it, any Communist regime ever. Admit you cunts, it doesn’t fucking work does it?

Anyway, I digress. I’m a lefty in that I happen to think we shouldn’t have more fucking homeless people on our pavements than those little white stones pressed into them.

I’m a lefty because I believe in fairness, rights and freedom of expression, but personally I don’t agree with gender exploration in children, especially really young ones, it just doesn’t seem right or necessary to me, like religion.

I think children should be allowed to explore who they are and grow up naturally, then when they’re adults they can do whatever they please with their bodies, but that’s just my opinion and I’m certainly no expert.

I can almost hear the outrage brewing in the distance from those who read no further, the sound of a million knitting needles clanging after a hard day’s yogurt weaving, who are getting angrier than a shit haired President with a disabled Twitter account, and that’s fine. I’ve come to expect unbridled rage in our ever so tolerant society.

If you think I’m wrong though, debate me. Show me why. Don’t just call me a bigot and block me, that way we’ll never progress as a society.

My point is this. The more of a minority someone is, the more they appear to be over represented in the media at present.

A white ‘transracial’ man from Florida who identifies as Filipino dominated the headlines the other day. I mean, am I allowed to fucking laugh at the absurdity of that? And if so, for how fucking long before I’m arrested for a hate crime?

Daily Telegraph feed on their own as apparently none of them can remember what happened to Jo Cox

I fucking hate people who can’t do their jobs. It’s more people than you think. Some days I think the whole of London is stacked neck-high with nothing but blue-suited oxygen thieves jockeying for position near to an open wallet. They are the kind of un-flushable turd that simply reappears in a new position without having done what they were supposed to do in the last one. And that brings me nicely to these twats.

There has been something amusing about The Telegraph’s 20 year-long suicidal strangle-wank into obscurity. But now there is something dangerously wrong with those spunk-puffins and all the female-friendly lifestyle supplements in the World can’t hide it.

They did once serve a purpose. Good sports section; couple of crosswords; brilliant cartoonist; oh yes, and a letters page where middle-England could do indignation bukakke when anyone mentioned closing Grammar Schools. But when the fuck did they slip into the void left when The Sun stopped handing out free colouring pencils?

Do I have to be associated with this omni-directional spunk mortar? If I believe in the free market, the rights of the individual, small Government and the rule of law, does it automatically make me one of these shit-heads? Because yesterday they went too far.

These fucktards appointed themselves Block Captain for the right wing militia and did a 2 page, full colour, witch-hunt special. On page 4 there was a cut-out-and-keep Nazi arm band and directions to where you can shove your better judgement.

Apparently the “thoughts and prayers” that went to the family and friends of Jo Cox didn’t include a single fucking one about not turning individuals into scapegoats on a political, and real, knife-edge.

But just ask yourself a few questions. Who the fuck works there now? Why the fuck? And, do you think anyone would fucking own up to it if they did?

There are times when you wonder if the Tories and their rags could display worse judgement if they tried. Well it seems they are trying.

Sweet Jesus make it stop, you fucking bellends!

 

Universal Credit is a ticking time bomb for a homelessness crisis

“Now call me old fashioned but if you gave a smack head £500 for the month, are you completely certain he’s going to prioritise rent and bills first? Because I think he’d have a massive fucking party.”

I’m no luddite. If change is genuinely beneficial then go for your life, but the Tories haven’t got a fucking clue, unless they have and are just more evil you could ever have imagined.

I’m not even going to get down to brass tacks. I honestly don’t know if people will be better or worse off in the long run, but knowing these nefarious bastards I can’t envisage new claimants celebrating with a bottle of chateauneuf du pape.

The implementation of it is crueller than a 50’s Santa, except you don’t wake up to your satsuma on Christmas morning, you get it in March and it’s up to you to surprise yourself.

Let’s set aside for moment the fact that some people will have to endure six weeks without money whilst the old system changes to the new. Let’s ignore that food banks won’t pay a family’s fucking gas bill.

These changes will affect everyone on benefits, now don’t get me wrong, the vast majority of claimants are responsible and genuine people, but for every recently redundant job seeker there’s a Frank Gallagher, and for every disability claiment there’s a Rab C. Nesbitt.

Here lies the problem. People who’ve been in the system for years are used to getting their rent paid directly to their land lords and having a steady weekly or fortnightly income.

There’s a massive proportion of people with mental health issues or substance and alcohol dependencies who claim benefits who’ll be thrust into a brand new way of living, giving them full responsibility over their lives, in some cases for the first time and with no family around to help.

Now call me old fashioned but if you gave a smack head £500 for the month, are you completely certain he’s going to prioritise rent and bills first? Because I think he’d have a massive fucking party.

How can this be a good thing? The government are literally giving people enough rope to hang themselves with.

If you think we have a homelessness problem now, then go for a city centre walk in 12 months time, because no amount of council spending on one way tickets will fix this catastrofuck.

The Tories have turned our green and pleasant land into a shanty town filled third world country, and it’s only going to get worse.

 

Postman Pat’s career in tatters after Mrs. Goggins comes forward with sexual abuse claims

“He would nose me on the counter after we’d closed for the day”

The Daily Star reported yesterday that Mrs. Goggins has suffered for years at the hands of lovable Postie Patrick Clifton.

Clifton, or Postman Pat as he’s better known, has for decades portrayed himself as an upstanding member of the Greendale community, a loving husband, generous father, and an animal loving hard working pillar of the community.

All of that changed yesterday however, after his work colleague and confidant of years, Mrs. Goggins, shockingly exposed him as being an ‘agressive lecherous animal’ behind closed doors.

“He was sick.” She said.

“He’d stand outside stroking Jess as we locked up for the night being all smiley and chatty with the punters, but as soon as we were indoors all of that changed, he’d throw her to the ground and kick her across the room before demanding a cup of tea from me and calling me a bitch. He was a real Jekyll and Hyde character.”

Mrs. Goggins was inspired to speak out in the wake of the recently Hollywood sex scsndam and also alleges;

“He was a pervert. It started years ago with him pinching my bum. He said it was just for a laugh but I knew then it was plain wrong. After that it just esculated, in later years he would nose me on the counter after we’d closed for the day”

Greendale Police have launched an investigation. More to follow.

If this government were anymore transparent you could walk right through them

The government is falling apart quicker than an Ikea stool under the sheer weight of James Cordon and his massive ego. It’s collapsing like a pro Brexit argument faced with actual reality.

I’m all for clarity and openess but this lot are taking the piss now. They’re over sharing more than a fucking depressed American who’s just been asked how she’s doing.

I miss the good old days. Real bonefide scandals. I miss front page Daily Star articles about disgraced ministers caught with 4 grams of cocaine, dressed in women’s underwear, and being shat on by street hookers whilst sucking off a dwarf.

Now it’s like they don’t even want to be in power anymore. I can’t for the life of me think why?

Listing every knee touch, crafty wank and odd fetish from you’re cabinet over the last forty years probably isn’t the best course of action when you don’t have a fucking clue what’s happening right now.

The government is falling apart quicker than an Ikea stool under the sheer weight of James Cordon and his massive ego. It’s collapsing like a pro Brexit argument faced with actual reality.

Boris has had his foot in his mouth so much lately that he’s spitting out fucking corn plasters.

Priti’s had more secret meetings than a fucking Hollywood Producer with his lawyers.

Half the cabinet have quit or are about to because they’re too ‘handsy’, and Brexit negotiations are going at the pace of a tortoise with a broken fucking leg.

Step down Theresa or call an election for Christ’s sake. This isn’t strong and stable leadership, this is a fucking farce.

You and your government are a national embarrassment, you’re about as useful as tracing paper in a shitter.

 

BoJo is a walking disaster

He’s bullshit in a shit, a shit haired albino ape. He’s a fucking Greek restaurant after a Hen do, a  
Two Fat Ladies secret love child, the fucking bumbling Eton Mess.

Is he going for a leadership bid? Does he want to get sacked? Is he going to resign? These are just three of the many questions that no one gives a fuck about what the answer is.

He doesn’t fucking care! Think of it this way. If he isn’t in Parliament tomorrow, he’s not going to be worrying about getting fucking sanctioned in a fortnight.

One thing is certain though. Like anyone with half a brain, he probably wants as little to do with the impending cluster fuck that is Brexit as possible.

“Oh, you want to drive that Austin Metro with the shit Union Flag paint job, its fucked engine and no breaks into the bowels of Hades Treeza? Be my guest. Here’s the fucking keys.”

The only thing bigger than the £350 million sum that BoJo insists on repeating more than Only Fools and Horses on Gold is his own fucking ego.

He’s bullshit in a shit, a shit haired albino ape. He’s a fucking Greek restaurant after a Hen do, a  Two Fat Ladies secret love child, the fucking bumbling Eton Mess.

He’s a lie spitting bollocks tornado, chaos personified. A fucking tubby unhinged makeup free clown who no one laughs at. He’s a suited unkempt hyper cunt, the fucking walking demic.

Stop asking Facebook what time Asda closes

“Dose eny1 no wen bin day is”

Yes. Your fucking local authority website you dumb cunt.

“Dose eny1 no wen bin day is”

Yes. Your fucking local authority website you dumb cunt.

“When r kids back in school?”

Use fucking Google for Christ’s sake. The only answers you’re going to get off Facebook are 15 minutes later from your equally brain dead friends, who, incidentally, are probably asking fucking Beyonce on Twitter.

You shouldn’t be asking social media when your fucking kid’s term starts.

Sandra: “Had it wiv men me”

Mandy: “Aw, you ok hun?”

Sandra: “PM me”

Ah the attention seeker and the nosey bitch. A match made in heaven. Sandra doesn’t have any friends and Mandy hasn’t spoken to her for four years.

After this very public exchange, Sandra will inform Mandy that Paul, her dosser of a boyfriend, went out on Friday and didn’t return until Tuesday.

She’ll go on to explain that he stank of cheap perfume and wouldn’t answer his phone, and that she knows what he’s up to but will never leave him because she loves him ‘more than life itself.’

Mandy will then take great pleasure in telling the girls at bingo what a mug Sandra is and what a cunt Paul is.

“Only 5 of my friends will share this post”

You’ll be lucky you unoriginal cunt. They won’t share it because it’s shite. If you want to talk about an illness that’s affected you or to raise awareness about something, don’t use some fucking impersonal generic template and beg for shares.

P.S. Please please please share this post! Only 3 of my friends will. The rest of you just care if I die of AIDS.

Make the most of the German markets because after Brexit they’ll just be markets

Bang a few log huts up, play some shit generic festive saxophone music and boom! You can charge a fiver a shot for some hot wine, or 4 quid for fucking a macaroon and cunts will flock in their droves, standing there in the biting cold, skint, squashed by hoardes of other cunts all saying how fucking lovely it is.

Halloween is over, Bonfire night is done and Christmas aisles have been springing up in supermarkets accross the country like victims in Hollywood.

Yes, it’s that time of the year again, pre Christmas. The first merry cunt in your street will have his lights up by the end of the week, and Wham will be raping your ears every day on your morning commute by the end of the fortnight.

Long gone are the days of short Christmases. Now IT’S CRIIIISSSSSTTTMMAAASSS! for at least a fucking month. It just gets longer every year like a list of disgraced politicians.

It’s not truly Christmas though until you’ve lost a tooth in a Tesco fight for a shit 50 quid TV or end of line Dyson on Black Friday, or at least been to a fucking ‘Christmas Market’.

People love all that crap don’t they? Bang a few log huts up, play some shit generic festive saxophone music and boom! You can charge a fiver a shot for some hot wine, or 4 quid for fucking a macaroon and cunts will flock in their droves, standing there in the biting cold, skint, squashed by hoardes of other cunts all saying how fucking lovely it is.

Well make the most of this year and next, because after Brexit you’ll be walking around normal market stalls with inexplicable Cockneys shouting at you to buy fucking tomatoes and only dreaming about macaroons, when the Germans realise that not even the thickest Brits will pay 30 quid for a sausage and a stein of lager.

If we all chip in and pay Mrs. Brown’s tax bill will she fuck off?

I’d even take Miranda perpetually falling over in a poorly edited loop until the end of days than hear that open throated cackle, or witness that over practised fucking glasses twitch ever again.

Mrs. Brown and her boys are about as funny as twatting your elbow whilst escaping from the wreckage of your car after the horrific crash which killed your family.

I don’t care if they evade or avoid tax to be honest, I’m more livid about them being voted Britain’s best comedy. What the fuck happened there? Was there not a Brexit vote that day?

I’d sooner watch new Red Dwarf on Dave back to back for the rest of eternity than glance that collapsing prick in a dress for thirty seconds.

I’d even take Miranda perpetually falling over in a poorly edited loop until the end of days than hear that open throated cackle, or witness that over practised fucking glasses twitch ever again.

I’ve seen funnier fits for fuck sake. I’ve had more pleasant surgery in a half hour period. It’s fucking shit. It makes 2 Pints of Lager and a Packet of Crisps look like Monty Python.