Month: July 2017

Yes it’s that time of the week again, when the tiny handed philanderer appoints a new Director of Communications.

Just 11 days after Anthony Scaramucci was chosen as Chief Bullshitter for The White House, Trump was reportedly unimpressed after realising he isn’t in a fact Bond super villain, but just a rabid coke head with a penchant for swearing.

Trump was allegedly so afraid of Scaramucci that he hired an army general as his Chief of Staff just to fire the shit Fonz.

“He’s not Scaramanga!” Trump was overheard saying to an aid shortly after Scaramucci was appointed.

Mr. Blofeld is currently not available to comment until he’s officially sworn in.

You probably thought I was going to write a satirical article about Trump banning her after he banned trans gender people from serving in the US Military.

I’m not. The US banned Mrs. Brown and her fucking boys because they’re about as funny as twatting your elbow whilst escaping from your wreck of a car after a horrific crash. And if they didn’t ban her they fucking should.

I would eat chlorinated chicken until I shat out a swimming pool, if they took that unfunny cunt and the cast of Benidorm for just one fucking series.

It would only be one series though unfortunately. I know we all think yanks are thicker than an Alan Bennet memoir, but they fucked Piers Morgan off quicker than a Tory manifesto after an election.

Mrs. Brown isn’t fit to sponge up Mrs. Doyle’s spilt tea. Utter fucking shit.

 

 

With all the MP’s taking a well earned break from fiddling expenses and covering up catastrophes, Treeza has fucked off on a walking jolly and Jezza has started on his next batch jam.

So far no tragedies, acts of terror, or basically anything news worthy at all, Britain is duller than a Reece-Mogg anecdote right now, which isn’t a bad thing, in fact it’s a nice rest from the last few months.

There’s been no chucking billions away to T-Rex deniers, no general elections, no fucking referendums and we’re getting a nice break from the fucking phrases ‘strong and stable’ and ‘Brexit means Brexit.’

In fact, the only thing that’s happened in politics land recently is that Farage urged young people to go and watch a film about British people fighting his fucking hero.

I don’t think we need a revolution, or even a Labour government. We should just let all the MP’s have a permanent holiday like Holly Willoughby.

No violence, no overthrowing, or taking back control, we just manage without. Crack on as normal and hope for the best. After all, what would be missing exactly? All we’d need is a bumbling prick to insult other countries on TV occasionally, and a letter to America telling them to do whatever the fuck they like and that they’ll have a full support. Piece of piss.

Celebrity hot head and scooter botherer, Ronnie Pickering, became a YouTube sensation after offering to beat a moped driver to a pulp to ‘learn him about the road’.

Since the helmet cam footage went viral, things have calmed down on the Pickering front, until footage recently emerged of an angry toff, obsessed with murder and citizen’s arrerests, threatening a family in a car.

After the watching the video, Pickering Tweeted that the man in the video, a Producer for David Attenborough called Fergus Beeley, is a ‘pink shirt wearing ponce’ before challenging him to a fist fight.

Both of them have been asking each other ‘do you know who I am?’ on Twitter for the last 5 hours.

More follows…

The permanently perplexed, flange jowled, fuck faced, tyranacunt, vomited the important announcement all over Twitter like a thick dog who’s found it’s owners chocolate stash.

Trump likes to dress up in military uniform and laud the efforts of his forces, at massive rallies, like a coked up Hitler who’s just lowered his IQ by half after watching fucking Love Island on catch up.

Only Hitler actually served his military and won medals, unlike Trump who dodged more drafts than a recovering alcoholic in a Weatherspoons.

Yes, the oranged hued, birds nest modelling, clunge agitator, respects ALL US heroes, apart from those awkward fuckers who may need time off for surgery or even some moral support at some point. Fuck it, lose your legs on a land mine and he might consider a hospital appointment for you. You know, when you’ve proven yourself a hero by ruining your life, like he did Nam, when the sale of his fucking house fell through, probably.

He’s not thought this through has he? The cunt is more unbalanced than Laurel and Hardy on a fucking see saw. And when an inevitable war kicks off and he reintroduces conscription, he’ll probably find that the 10 million soldiers he’s expecting to fight for his country are all suddenly men trapped in women’s bodies.

News broke earlier that the next Bond film is due out in 2019 with Daniel Craig stepping down from the iconic role to concentrate on looking concerned and slitting his wrists.

McCarthy, who proved her worth as a super slueth in the film Spy, made the announcement an hour ago, Tweeting;

“The name’s Bond. Jane Bond #Excited!”

A spokesman for the franchise said;

“We’ve got a female Doctor, now it’s time for a woman Bond. Daniel Craig was phenomenal in the role and will be sorely missed, however, in the later films Bond lost the comedy elements that made the franchise so popular in the first place. We’re looking forward to Melissa reinvigorating that.”

There’s already been a huge backlash on Twitter following the announcement. Sam The Man Tweeted;

“Bond used to be good. I will not be watching anymore!”

Super Pumped added;

“A bird Bond? What, with a license to iron? #fuckingrediculous”

We won’t know what the semi reboot will look until the first previews land next August.

For 6 months Sean Spicer tried his hardest to make the inane ramblings of an orange, perma tanned, wizen faced, shit gibbon, appear presidential, by stuttering, rocking uncomfortably on his feet and talking down The Third Reich, to make Trump’s administration appear more human and compassionate.

The miniature balding castrato spent his tenure looking like a rabbit trapped in Stephen King’s IT’s dead lights, only he was the clown and truth was the shit spider at the end.

Unless you ignore the time he was the Whithouse easter bunny. He fucking loved that. All that corruption, all those lies, wrapped up in a silent character, like a pre investigation Trump Russian counterpart.

Bye Sean. We’ll miss you, like equality, civil liberties, you sphere headed, question dodging, podium holder.

 

I don’t have the video but you can easily Google it. Don’t ask Facebook like you do to find out what time fucking Asda closes, because like a Jeremy Kyle contestant, it won’t work.

He’s called Fergus Beeley and he’s an Attenborough producer. His documentaries that is, he doesn’t produce actual Attenboroughs, which is a shame because the BBC would be worth the license fee if a David Attenborough fronted every show.

I digress, this privileged cunt lost his temper quicker than Nigel Farage being asked why all of UKIP are more racist than a fucking black and white minstrel show.

In typical superiority complex fashion, the jumped up silver spoon licker, allegedly started his tirade of foul mouthed abuse that even made me blush (it didn’t) with the phrase ‘do you know who I am?’. A phrase usually only reserved for that scary one eyed guy sat on his own in the corner of a town centre pub who utters it straight after ‘whatchoo looking at?’. Tip. Don’t say ‘a one eyed cunt.’

He looked like a shit post watershed Basil Faulty impersonator, off his nut of crack laced quinoa, with his arms flailing like a demented Italian.

To be fair we didn’t see the catalyst for this insane outburst. The family he was having a go at may well have been driving dangerously, but to call them wankers and sluts before threatening a child, death threats and physical violence was more over the top than Louis Spence at his Birthday party.

 

Jayda Fransen is 1960’s America personified. She’s a fucking walking whites only water fountain, that ejactulates bile into the mouths of anyone stupid enough to use it.

She’s a dead eyed, witch featured, vacuous sack of shit, with the perpetual expression of a fucking startled cat.

She’s also purportedly a Christian, apart from that bit about loving thy neighbour. She proves this by walking around with a British flag and a white crucifix, whilst shouting racist obscenities flanked by fucking Daily Express readers like a shit KKK.

Apparently these marches ‘protect’ the UK by attempting to stir up hate in already divided towns, whilst selling fucking badges at the same time.

And just like radical Islamist extremists, Britain First are trying to wage their own Holy war, but the stupid cunts on both sides fail to realise that the majority of people in the UK couldn’t give a fuck about religion.

 

Another day, another council fuck up. It seems these days that common sense is about as common as an unclaimed MP’s expense, as Andre Spicer found out, as he helped his young daughter sell lemonade to people heading for a music festival in east London at the weekend.

After half an hour of ‘trading’ (small cups 50p, large cups £1), 4 jumped up, jobs worth pricks of enforcement officers, for Tower Hamlets Council, made a beeline for the terrified 5 year old, before turning on a camera and reading out a script about trading permits.

Are these cunts for real? She’s five for fuck sake. They handled that with all the grace and diplomacy of Vanessa Feltz returning a top that ‘shrunk in the wash’ to fucking River Island.

They stood there and read her the riot act as if she had millions squandered away in some offshore account. You can’t even prosecute a 5 year old for murder but fuck it, let’s slap a £150 fine on her dad for being an accomplice to this heinous crime.

Thankfully the council dropped the fine, but it doesn’t make up for the fact that we’re surrounded by these twats in every fucking walk of life. Jumped up, power tripping cunts in uniform, with the intellect of a fucking TOWIE star, who are some how enforcing crap rules like a shit SS.

Get a fucking grip you clowns.