Month: June 2018

Another day and another drop off on the Brexit express, final destination obscurity, before a quick stop off at oblivion.

The next company to flee the sinking ship HMS UK, has been announced as Airbus who manufacture wings here for those things we used to fly to Europe in.

Tens of thousands of people could lose their jobs after the company released details of their contingency plans in the event of a hard Brexit.

Fucking wonderful, great news that, seeing as a hard Brexit is looking more likely than a police investigation into a recently deceased BBC DJ.

Airbus is just the latest in a seemingly infinite number of firms going bust or relocating.

It’s like watching the Industrial Revolution in reverse, or capitalism collapsing.

When the Brexit utopia is finally realised, and we’re forced into a version of true Communism, all having an equal share of fuck all, the traditionally anti socialist Brexiters will claim that’s all they ever wanted from the beggining.

The Express inhaling, immigrant hating, bacon hued majority won’t give a fuck about Airbus.

They can’t see beyond their own noses and the selfish cunts don’t even build planes anyway, so why should they fucking bother?

It doesn’t even effect them innit.

That haemorrhage of gammon will just shrug and mumble something about straight bananas, before going back to being ignorant and deluded twat spackers.

I fucking hate the tories almost as much as I hate catching my own reflection in an unexpected mirror, but, credit where it’s due.

Ready made Spitting Image doll and unnecessary vowel stretcher, William Hague, today suggested that weed should be legalised.

Now I’m not for this purely because on occasion I like to ‘smoke dem ‘erb’ but because it’s obviously a good fucking idea.

With Brexit looming like Trump in a female changing room, millions of pounds in extra revenue for the economy would be no bad thing.

Not to mention the ever increasing evidence of its health benefits, and the strain legalisation would relieve an already stretched Police force of dealing with.

If the US and Canada can end their wars on drugs then why are we lagging behind so much?

No one has ever smashed ten bongs then gone on a violent rampage, the worse that could happen if that they order a Domino’s, forget, then get paranoid when the delivery driver knocks.

Terrified families stuffed into tiny carriages like cattle, told to bring only their most prized possessions so they could later be stolen by the state.

Then they arrived at the gates of hell on earth to suffer humiliation, abuse, then starvation, before eventually being worked to death, shot, or gassed.

What happened when they clambered off those trains, exhausted and terrified?

The children were separated from their parents, snatched by bullies clad in Hugo Boss and taken away.

We know how it ended, but we must never forget how it started.

Fast forward over 70 years and here we are now, 2018, America, and children are being separated from their parents and locked in cages.

No, this isn’t the same, they won’t have that terrible fate, but this whole situation has echoes of one of the darkest blots on human history.

The world is watching very closely this time Mr. Trump. They are worried that when you dehumanize people you’re on a very slippery slope.

With Trump’s rhetoric about building walls, banning Muslims and the USA not being a migrant camp, people have a right to be worried.

Especially when he’s jealous of despots like Kim Jong-Un because his people ‘sit up and pay attention’ and he wants his to do the same.

Usually in my articles I insult people like Trump in sweary tirades, it’s what this site is known for.

He’s beyond satire now though, less garish cartoon and more all too real threat. He’s not funny, he’s fucking terrifying.

Wake up America. This is how it starts.

This isn’t the first time the UK has been hooked on mother’s ruin, but the last time we were all lashed off our tits on it, it was safer than water and cheaper than air.

So step aside craft ale cunts, gin is in now, apparently.

The more expensive and the deeper shade of pink, the better.

“Oh you like gin now don’t you, fancy a Gordon’s and tonic?”

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous you scummy cunt, I want that 7 quid a shot purple stuff in a wankers cocktail with a dried slice of orange. I’m posh now.”

Gin is rank, admit it. Be original and choose a drink you actually like instead of looking at the price tag.

No one is impressed with you over spending on something that tastes like a lime had a shit, even if you post pictures of the bottle on your fucking Instagram page.

It’s liquid flossing for brainless adult cunts, that’s right, everyone thinks you’re a knob, just like they did when you went through your Grey Goose phase four years ago.

The long serving Question Time veteran and host, David Dimbleby, is stepping down after 25 years of speaking to the man the wearing spectacles in the gangway.

Nobody knows who will replace him yet, but Nigel Farage, who has appeared on nearly as many episodes is the bookies favourite to take on the iconic role.

A spokesman for the BBC said;

“It’s a no brainer really, Nigel is comfortable with the show,  he won’t listen to anyone on the left of politics, and he’s very pro Brexit. In fact, all he’d need to do is move over two places.”

Mr. Dimbleby will continue to host the Tory showroom for the remainder of it’s current run, before stepping down to probably talk about trains or canal barges, with a new presenter being picked next year.

Producers of the show had nothing to comment but did make it clear that Theresa May is a wonderful leader and that Brexit is just brilliant.

How can they be allergic to summer? Does oxygen make them ill as well, and water a little queasy for fuck sake?

If summer were a party, hay fever sufferers would be the ones that get too pissed and demand Abba’s Waterloo is played on repeat, before finally bursting into tears and ruining it for everyone else.

I don’t think they’re a new phenomenon, like everyone just started cry sneezing in the last heatwave, but I’m pretty sure they were a lot less fucking moany about it in the past.

They’re like vegans, they’re compelled to tell you!

As soon as a cloud stops obscuring the sun for twenty seconds, allowing the tiniest slither of light, they’re sneezing at you and listing all the medications they’re on.

“Piranase does nothing, Claratyne is useless…”

Stop fucking taking them then you fucking flower fearing pussies. Quick! Run! The pollen is coming!

Blow your nose, wipe your eyes and enjoy the fucking rays like every other fucker, you whining cunts.

I know we’re not in 1870, or Reese-Mogg Manor where children, if not with the nanny, should be seen and not heard, but come on!

“Jonny has been playing Fortnight for 63 hours solid! He’s shat himself and won’t eat his tea. When I ask him stop he spits at me and calls me a twat.”

Well I’m sorry love but little Jonny is a cunt and you’re a shit mum. Yeast would do a better job at raising your fucking kids than you.

What the fuck is wrong with people? Punishing kids is the easiest it has ever been!

Fuck breaking a sweat with your slipper, just take the fucking phone away, or the power lead for the PS4.

If you’re going to let a 10 year old rule the roost then do us all a favour and bag up.

I know some kids have issues with ADHD and other disorders, but I’d happily let them assault me or smash up the room rather than give in to them playing a fucking game for three days solid. Get a fucking grip.

The only flags the council are going to ban you from showing are the kind you put on the fucking ground without the relevant planning permission.

It’s the same old shit every fucking time, St. George’s Day, The World Cup, in fact, any kind of celebration around being English.

Nobody gives a fuck! Muslims, the council, the government. No one. So stop playing the fucking victims.

If you want to dress as a giant red and white twat with matching face paint then go for it.

If you want to drape your house in a massive red cross, go for it, but don’t act all clueless when victims of a natural disaster come knocking on your fucking door.

“But, but, the taxi drivers!” Are you a cunting taxi driver? Does them not having car flags ruin your shit bedroom Window display? No it doesn’t, so stop fucking whining, you offended by proxy cunts.

Put your Daily Mail down, get your face paint on and your flag cape and walk around shouting Vindaloo for a week or two, it’ll be a nice break from listening to you all moan about Tommy fucking Robinson.

For a (mostly) political satire page I’m admittedly a bit shit at politicking. The more time passes the less engaged I become.

Keeping an eye on the progress of twats from one day to the next can become quite boring, unless you’re a gynecologist of course, and like one on the cusp of retirement, eagerly waiting to swap his speculum for golf clubs, I’ve missed one of the most diseased cunts of my career.

Sir Christopher Chope, whose last name sounds like some sort of dubious penile polyp, has been thrust before my eyes against my will, like cellulite on a beach.

Today he objected to a bill making upskirting  illegal, which the tories had already indicated would be passed into law.

Who knew such big issues could be derailed after months of hard work with just one shout of ‘objection’?

Where the fuck was this prick when the Brexit referendum was just a twinkle in a pig fucker’s eye?

He’s got previous too, his voting record looks it fell it out of a preview script from Season Three of The Handmaid’s Tale, voting against everything decent from equal pay to gay marriage.

Allegedly he even once objected to a Hillsborough debate in favour of discussing MP’s pensions.

This is why I can’t be fucked with politics anymore.

They’re all self satirising, Victorian arse holes, who could literally take a shit on a Cenotaph to chants of fucking “Free Tommeh!”

Because if I don’t give a shit you can bet the majority of Brits don’t.

In a week where 99p Planet couldn’t afford to bail out Poundworld because they were a penny shy, Rolls-Royce have announced 4,600 job losses over the next two years.

Now I’m not saying it’s because of Brexit, but it’s because of fucking Brexit, although I can already picture the Tory spin now;

“Fewer people will be travelling to and from Europe, which means fewer aeroplanes and therefor less Rolls Royce engines will be needed, it makes perfect economic sense. Besides, we need an estimated 4,500 strawberry pickers so it really is win win.”

I don’t know what the comments section of The Daily Express will look like though, as those flag clad, dragon destroying, vacant petri dishes appear to blame everything on Amazon.

I’m guessing something like this:

“Jus waiting for all the remoaners lol! Its nuffink to do wiv Brexit ffs!

“The High Street has been dyin for years, everyone shops online nowadays. If you want a new Trent 1000 engine you just order it off Amazon innit.”

To be fair maybe it’s nothing to with Brexit. Maybe all these job losses, store closures and head office relocations are all just massive coincidences.

I’m sure as soon as we’ve left the EU they’ll all come begging with their tales between their legs for a crack at our post Brexit utopia.