Month: November 2017

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.

 

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.

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.

 

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.

“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.

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.

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.

We’ve hit rock bottom as a society. We’re more devolved than fucking Scotland after a paddy, and it’s all because of the thing you’re reading this shite on. The ironically named smart phone, a device invented to enhance all of our lives and to make the acquisition of knowledge instant.

At least that was the idea. In reality two things the smart phone does absolutely guarantee are bad necks and fucking masturbation on the go.

Quite fitting really, when you consider that its turned us all into fucking callous, socially inept wankers. Steve Jobs isn’t spinning in his grave. I’d know if he were because there’d be some cunt filming it.

We walk around, ear buds in, with our slack jawed faces lit up like fucking Queen in the Bohemian Rhapsody video, paying no attention to our environment like some sort of fucking techno zombies from a dystopian future turned real;

“Grandad, why didn’t you protest the government burning all the poor people?”

“Because I was tending virtual sheep Johnny, on my virtual farm, like an actual fucking dick head.”

The collective consciousness has deteriorated so much now that we’re like the Borg with fucking learning difficulties. On social media and in actual reality we’ve been reduced to a vicious pack of mentally stunted morons, who attack anything they don’t understand like the fucking English Defense League in an ethnic market.

I say we of course, but most of us are silently watching on in horror as no one gets that Barry Gibb joke on Twitter, or everyone on your friends list shares an obviously fake news story about a baby surviving a fire two weeks after it happened. It would be funny if it weren’t so fucking depressing.

People used to help each other in trouble. Now they just film it, separating themselves from the horror unfolding in front of them by viewing it through a 5″ screen. Recenty people have even filmed other people getting raped for fuck sake. What is wrong with the world?

1. And when did we allow our children to be bullied online? When we were bullied the bully was fucking there, in front of us! For Christ’s sake teach your kids to leave the virtual room, close the lid on the laptop or even close down the social media account. Boom. Problem solved. No more fucking bullying. We need to teach them that non of this shit here is important. Non of it.

Remember this though. When it does all get too much for you, when you’ve lost all hope in civilisation and you’re standing on that ledge ready to jump, take a deep breath and smile, because as you hurtle to your death, the last thing you’ll see are hundreds of goading, gawping cunts, filming it all on their smart phones.

Tax havens are the focus of today, usually a relatively boring subject but still, a nice change from philandering politicians and daily mass shootings eh?

We’re not thick. We know that if Keith, a self employed plumber fills he his tax return in wrong and misses £300 he owes that he’s a tax evading cunt and will probably rightly go to prison. A celebrity however can squirrel away millions of pounds in perfectly legal tax avoidance schemes and will probably be treated to lunch by someone from fucking HMRC as a consequence.

It’s not really news is it? We live in a two tiered system which we just accept like lab mice waiting to go blind from having some shit shampoo rubbed into their eyes.

Someone once said there are two certainties in life, death and taxes. Only some pay fewer of the latter than most.

Now the Queen’s finances have been put under the spotlight, again, we knew deep down that the monarchy would be using these schemes. Why wouldn’t they if no laws are being broken?

This isn’t a legal issue though, it’s a moral one. As part of her portfolio, some of her investments went to a company called Bright House, not much but a pound is too much where these exploitative cunts are concerned.

The company preys on those already oppressed in society by government, banks and big business. The type of people relying on foodbanks who are one sanction away from missing their gas bill.

They offer shiny new goods to struggling families on the breadline who want, for once, for their children to wake up to the latest games console on Christmas morning for a small weekly fee. You wanted to know where that 50″ plasma came from, well now you do.

The interest is higher than Michael Fallon’s blood pressure though and miss one payment and the bailiffs will be round quicker than an internet cache clear in a Parliament office. They are scum pure and simple.

I dont care if the Queen wasn’t directly aware where her money was going or how much of it was invested. It’s not fucking on. She has enough tax payer funded staff for one of them to realise that this is more out of order than an 80’s condom machine in a town centre pub.

It’s time for them to go. Spend the money saved on housing and infrastructure and no amount of shitty tourism arguments will change my mind.

Oh look another mass shooting in America. It’s time to start sending our thoughts and prayers, because that did a fuck tonne of good for the latest victims who were in church this time didn’t it?

I’m bored of it. How many people need to get massacred before you can’t even be bothered opening the fucking link to see the death toll?

They’re as expected as a knitted jumper for Christmas off your nan, or a massive fucking gas bill in January, and to be honest it’s a fucking chore talking about it. I might just have a template prepared for the one next month, it will save me typing all this shit out again.

I can’t even get angry about it anymore, the arguments are more worn than Harvey Weinstein’s bedroom carpet, and what is the point in shouting at these fucking morons?

The answer is staring them right in the fucking face like sugar wherever they go, but will they listen? Will they fuck. They’d sooner spend a few billion dollars on bullet proof churches than tackling gun laws.

Check out President Tyranacunt’s Facebook update with tomorrows agenda just a few moments ago;

No fucking mention of it! Clearly the banquet is more important. Tucking into his silver platter burger a higher priority than the countless dead.

Sort your fucking shit out America. You’re a laughing stock. A joke, and not a funny one anymore either, your just tragic, a burnt out husk with no respect. You’re fucking Kevin Spacey.