Tories try to attract voters with cut price food after giving it away for years didn’t work

Maybe Nando’s wasn’t the right choice? Maybe free wings at Chicken Cottage would’ve won over any potential crutch kickers, I suppose we’ll never know.

The party of the super rich and thick red top readers are after new members.

Recently the Tories launched their own activist group to rival Labour’s Momentum, by trying and failing to appeal to the next generation of plum throated, pig fucking, poor hating, cunts.

The plan failed to activate (get it?) when the young Tories did what young Tories do, get caught being racist whilst stabbing each other in the back to seize control of their collective of fuck all.

Well here we are now, the party negotiating  Brexit have failed to negotiate 10% off chicken for like minded arse holes.

Maybe Nando’s wasn’t the right choice? Maybe free wings at Chicken Cottage would’ve won over any potential crutch kickers, I suppose we’ll never know.

It’s a flawed plan really, I mean, if you think about it the Tories have been giving away food for years in a roundabout way via food banks.

The trouble is that it only seems to increase the numbers of  Labour members instead.

For once a Government policy I agree with

Each pay day I fed my hard earned cash into a virtual roulette machine quicker than an ex PM feeding his cock into a dead pig for an initiation ceremony.

I never was a gambler. I bought the odd scratch card of course, regularly paid my idiot tax with dreams of winning 5 grand just like the next cunt.

Sometimes I even won a pound so I could swap it for another fucking misery token.

Then came the day that ruined my life. As a manic depressive with a so far pretty fucking dire existence, I’ve got a very addictive personality.

If it gives me any form of pleasure I’ll eat, drink, smoke or snort it. I’ve got more vices than a fucking B&Q warehouse.

I digress, I was in my local about four years ago drinking away my pain with a couple of mates. One said “let’s go for a spin.” I was so naive back then where gambling was concerned. I wish I still was.

“A spin” involved us each putting £20 into a pot and wandering over to the nearest resting den of damned. A one stop shop for the terminally self loathing dregs of society, banging illuminated screens and cursing them, when in actual fact they were cursing their own inability to retain a modicum of self control.

This was hell on earth and unbeknown to me, I’d soon be one of those dregs.

We won! Not huge but enough to entice. Our combined £60 meant we left with a healthy £260 each. £200 profit for standing in front of a machine, pressing numbers and waiting for a virtual wheel to spin. Piece of piss. Or so I thought.

Twenty minutes later we were back. I laughed at my mates as they each squandered their cash.

They were mugs and I was clever. Bored, I put a tenner in the fourth machine, the other three were occupied by my friends and an angry drunk. There’s only four allowed in each shop. Each can take £80,000 a hour since Gordon Brown relaxed betting laws to make way for a super casino which never transpired.

I won! Another £250. Piece of piss! I lent my friends money so we could carry on drinking. I was smug and they were losers.

That week I went back every night and every night I won, until I didn’t.

A tenner here, fifty quid there. It added up quicker than the cost Trump’s imaginary border wall.

I was fucked. Each pay day I fed my hard earned cash into a virtual roulette machine quicker than an ex PM feeding his cock into a dead pig for an initiation ceremony.

I got more payday loans than UKIP in an election campaign. I was living in my dad’s spare room and every ‘night out’ resulted in 1 pint, a five mile walk home and me contemplating throwing myself off the nearest railway bridge.

Long story short I got my act together. Certain circumstances forced me to and an inner strength I always had but hadn’t realised prevailed. Thank fuck!

Occasionally I crumble. I go back to square one and revert to form, and each time I do, I fall into a dark cloud of depression. This shit never leaves you.

Most aren’t so stong. Most with this affliction spend every day of their tortuous lives cramped up in these high street prison cells, desperately trying to ‘win big’ and set themselves free. That never happens of course because they give it all back to book maker.

The government proposals to limit each bet to £2 will save lots of misery and possibly some lives.

Gambling is a disease. The stricter the rules the better as far as I’m concerned.

I don’t care about Meghan’s dad, I’m more bothered by the Police taking bags of fuck all from the homeless

If the Royal family want to survive another hundred years, Harry should speak out about this bull shit and invite all the people who have been treated like scum to the wedding.

This whole farce of a wedding is a sickening reminder of the division between the haves and the have nots in this shit hole of a country.

Since when did the police confiscate the belongings of anyone, homeless or otherwise, for safe keeping to be ‘collected after the wedding’?

It’s not only concerning, but fucking obscene.

First private police forces and now these pricks treating humans like cattle.

Fuck it, have done with it and just kit them out in brown shirts, or give them all fucking eagle badges.

Is this what post Brexit Britain will look like, fucking Nazi Germany?

Where’s the logic? Did simply moving homeless people on seem a bit crass?

Maybe if you take their sleeping bags and begging hats away they’ll take the hint and just fuck off themselves, like good little subjects.

We should be looking after our most vulnerable and protesting for their rights.

As for ‘patriots’ on the day, we should knock those sad, flag clad, cunts off their deck chairs and stand up for the people whose pavement space they’ve stolen.

If the Royal family want to survive another hundred years, Harry should speak out about this bull shit and invite all the people who have been treated like scum to the wedding.

Fuck Royal protocol and his unwillingness to get involved in politics, he’d have a massive fan base in an instant if just once he’d call the government out and stand up for those with nothing.

It’s Mental Health Awareness Week but you’re probably already painfully aware

Naturally happy types, you know, jovial, smily “I get up at 6am” cunts, meandering through this murky world of hate we call home, and progressing on the journey of pain we call life unnerve me like a wide eyed man shouting on a bus.

I’m more disturbed by those of us without mental health issues to be honest.

Naturally happy types, you know, jovial, smily “I get up at 6am” cunts, meandering through this murky world of hate we call home, and progressing on the journey of pain we call life unnerve me like a wide eyed man shouting on a bus.

Come to think of it, depending on the availability of cheap, super strength lager, I’d probably get on with that bloke better.

I suffer from depression, I think. It’s hard to tell when life refuses to stop shitting on you like a tory whore who’s had one line too much.

I’m not making light of it, I know I do really because on the rare occasion everything is as it should be, or is as I think it should be, I still feel like utter shit.

I can’t do counselling. The thought of talking through my issues with a stranger terrifies me, it’s much better to share them with thousands of strangers online.

I’ve also tried meds, they worked, for a while, until the realisation that I’d become an emotionless walking husk, devoid of creativity kicked in.

I’ve tried walking too but booze is definitely better. No one ever suggests getting smashed though.  Kale yes, exercise yes, Smirnoff NO!

The point I’m sruggling to make is this:

If you are depressed try things. Talking, meds, exercise etc.

Some of these suggestions sound patronising coming from a grinning, perpetually happy twat.

Going for a walk is the last thing on your mind when you’ve spent two days in bed and a journey to the toilet feels like you’re scaling Everest, I get that.

There will be better days though, try it on of them, it might work for you.

Apart from trying things I’ve got nothing, otherwise I’d be happy myself.

Just don’t let that black dog lure you to the depths, kick the cunt in the bollocks and tell it to fuck off.

As for people without mental health issues, yes you, you walking smirk, think about us more.

One day something horrendous will happen to you that will shock to the core and knock you on your arse. You’ll get lost in a black void with seemingly no escape.

Remember that feeling. We call it Monday.

Yes it is hot Trevor and no I don’t know how long it will last this time

British weather is unpredictable like Boris Johnson in a crisis, and if you haven’t grasped that yet do you even Britain bro?

Breaking: It’s warm. It might last all weekend, or it might rain tomorrow, that’s how it works here.

British weather is unpredictable like Boris Johnson in a crisis, and if you haven’t grasped that yet then do you even Britain bro?

People like imaginary Trevor, who state the bleeding obvious with complex observations like:

“It’s hot innit?” or “How long do you think we’ll get this time, one or two days?” Should be rounded up and shot.

The same applies to people, who after the sun inevitably goes away, say:

“Well that was a fun twenty four hour of summer wasn’t it?”

Just put the stop watch away and fucking go out and enjoy it.

Unless like me you’re a sun hating hermit, sat in doors, writing literal shit, whilst scowling at all the  happy cunts outside.

Give Millenials a break

They’re like politically correct Terminators, they can’t be bargained with. They can’t be reasoned with. They don’t feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And they absolutely will not stop… ever, until you are a vegan!

If you’re in your early thirties then technically  you are one anyway.

I know right?  I was fucking mortified. It’s like finding out your great grandad was Rudolf Hess.

I think lots of the people who categorise other people are around this age too, and out of sheer embarrassment have recently created a mini generation, Xennials.

It’s not as cool as it sounds, think of it as like being a Millenial, but with a knowledge of dial up internet, wanking to magazines, or going outside.

I digress. We’re too cruel to these thick, youthful, tossers aren’t we? We just can’t help it.

They’re like politically correct Terminators, they can’t be bargained with. They can’t be reasoned with. They don’t feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And they absolutely will not stop… ever, until you are a vegan!

It’s not their fucking fault that they’re like they are though.

“They don’t play out.” We moan.

No fucking shit, we didn’t let them! All our childhood heroes turned out to be fucking nonces.

We’ll be fucked if we’re letting our kids go in the garden when the next door neighbour is odd Bob Bicker, the neighbourhood knicker sniffer.

“They’re always on their phones.” So are you cunt! You’re reading this on one now.

“They’re precious little snowflakes who can’t accept a differing opinion.”

I’ve thought long and hard about this one and it’s absolutely correct, but, again, it really isn’t their fault!

Think about it. We’ve spent the best part of two  decades making the world more PC for the benefit of all of us.

Terms we used to hear our racist uncles casually drop into conversation would not be tolerated now, rightfully, but go back 15 or 20 years and sadly it was normal.

Millenials had never really been exposed to that shit before, then BOOM, out of nowhere the far right appeared.

Cunts like Katie Hopkins championing hate as ‘free speech’. No wonder they banned these opinions from their universities, they were alien, dark and unfamiliar.

It’s all our fault. We created this massive safe space, then we criticised Millenials for being in it. We really should give them a fucking break.

Have people always been this repellent or is the internet just highlighting it?

They serve to intensify my sense of hopelessness, like impending nuclear war, the rise of Fascism, or fucking Crocs.

Every now and again when I’m stuck for a rant, I’ll ask my Facebook followers what’s fucking them off.

Overwhelmingly, every time I ask, the first response is almost guaranteed to be ‘other people’ and I have to agree.

I usually pick another suggestion, one more topical, or more specific, but people really are massive cunts aren’t they?

They fuel my depression like a line of coke to a Presidential speech, they may even be the root cause.

They serve to intensify my sense of hopelessness, like impending nuclear war, the rise of Fascism, or fucking Crocs.

It’s gets so bad sometimes that I regret having kids, for their sakes, not mine.

People are shallow, vacuous, self righteous pricks.

They’re constantly offended, virtue signalling, selfie taking, Insta using, food photographing, twats.

Flat earth choosing, avocado abusing, vaccination confusing, disease distributing, multiple gender defending fucks.

They’re alt right, which should mean left but doesn’t, or they’re left which should be mean left but doesn’t.

They’re ill informed yet adamant they’re right, they ‘speak the truth’ but are full of shite. It really fucking fucks me off.

We’re filtered both in pictures and in life. Date night just for Facebook photos with the wife.

Look at me, look at my car, I’m better than you, I’ve come some fucking far.

Look at this gin, this is a what I drink, 30 quid a bottle, see it near my sink.

I couldn’t give a fuck. I’ve had enough. I’m sick of all this showy shallow shit, there’s more important things but you won’t discuss it.

Quick, tell me how many miles you ran, or how many fucking metres you swam, or post a prayer to your long dead mam.

I’m done.

Sorry, I don’t know what happened there, it all went a bit of stream of consciousness, but the point was have people always been like this, or are we now just more willing to show it?

Police seize Pic ‘n’ Mix with an estimated street value of £4.2 million from a Cinema

Police seize Pic ‘n’ Mix with an estimated street value of £4.2 million from a Cinema

Officers were called out to an unknown location early last night, thought to be owned by a prominant cinema chain.

Dotty Winified Hovington-Jones, who got all offended by me describing her as dotty said;

“The cheeky fucking robbing bastard cunts tried charging me £8.70 for half a bag of gear for our Jonny. The fucking pop was a fiver alone, so I rang the fucking dibble.”

When officers arrived at the scene they found four pieces of fudge, two Back Jack’s and three white mice, with an estimated street value of £4.2 million.

PC Geoff Wakes said: “It’s the biggest haul we’ve had in a long while. They get away with it you see, especially now Woolworth’s has closed. People need their fix.”

The goods were seized for analyses, although there is nothing in law preventing the chain charging such high prices.

After police calmed Mrs. Hovington-Jones down, she didn’t any press charges and no further action was taken.

The cinema manager declined to comment.

Children accross the country terrified by poorly concealed weirdos entering their schools

Children accross the country terrified by poorly concealed weirdos entering their schools

Ah polling day in my old Primary school, I remember it well.

Swathes of sweaty, scary strangers, ‘hidden’ behind flimsy partitions, walking in and out like they fucking owned the place.

Why do we still allow this to happen? Just because it’s tradition doesn’t make it right.

It’s like a Christmas day for fucking nonces!

Volunteer: “The booth is just over there sir.”

Gary Glitter fan: “Oh I’m not voting, I just came to have a look around.”

It’s just fucking weird. Can you imagine if this shit happened in the US?

There’d be more dead kids than in goat abattoir.

Armed police on streets, SWAT teams on standby, fucking metal detectors etc.

What do we have? The Vicar’s wife, the head of the PTA and two 80 something volunteers.

Fat lot of good that would do against a smack head with a machete.

She needs to resign, she won’t, so vote for it tomorrow

For too long these vile fucking cunts have been self congratulating poor pissers, buying their own bullshit that they peddle in our corrupt right wing shit rags. Send them a message.

After every election success, the Tories seem to make it even harder for the opposition to win seats.

We need a revolution in this country, but non of us have the time nor inclination for organised mass protests.

Let’s be honest, we struggle to organise six people meeting outside a fucking Wetherspoons for 7pm on a Friday.

Now, I don’t care if you don’t like Corbyn, I couldn’t give a fuck if you think he’s an elbow patch modelling, mum’s jumper wearing, flower whisperer.

I don’t give a shit if you think he’s both a communist and a fascist, or that he loves the IRA, or hates the queen.

All that proves is that you’re a good little citizen, eating up all your bullshit from the media aeroplane spoon.

Actions speak louder than words and voting records shout louder than sound bites, bluster and rhetoric.

Think of it like that old Dr. Pepper ad, what’s the worse that could happen?

Can it be any worse than the current record?

Mass homelessness, which has well over doubled in some places and it’s only going to get worse with the shambolic changes to the benefit system.

A housing crisis, a dying NHS, the deportation scandal, child poverty, years of cuts, foodbanks, nurses using fucking food banks, stagnated wages, lack of investment in infrastructure, a calamitous Brexit.

The list goes on, and on, and on. Change needs to happen.

For too long these vile fucking cunts have been self congratulating poor pissers, buying their own bullshit that they peddle in our corrupt right wing shit rags. Send them a message.

If Labour smash the locals tomorrow, that smug, stone hearted, Disney vulture will be forced to resign and that will weaken the tories.

Do your fucking bit. Get rid of the lying shredder loving cunts.