Tuckered

The half witted, narcissistic, Twitter obsessed, mega twat has been at it again, and I’m not talking about Trump.

After going at least 24 hours without causing a fucking Twitterpheric twat storm, the brain dead arse admirer has caused controversy once more by saying in an interview:

“When you hear about slavery for 400 years. 400 years? That sounds like a choice.”

Aye Kanye, why didn’t these guys just ask security to sort their ‘owners’ out?

Why didn’t they just refuse to pick cotton and start gigging instead, so they could hire a private jet and leave?

Last week the cunt said he supported Trump and instantly lost 9 million Twitter followers.

He said the President was his ‘boy’ which explains a lot, like father like son then? Because they’re both thick as shit.

Let’s see how many followers the prick loses this time.

If it’s less than 9 million, it will prove once and for all that announcing your support of that dementia ridden, hay haired, chin smuggler, is about the most offensive thing you can say in the US right now.

Calm your tits about fat kids Oliver, give that giant tongue a fucking rest for once.

Who knows, it might thank you by losing a bit of weight itself and giving you back some much needed oral real estate, you tiny toothed twat.

We get it, obesity is an epidemic, but everytime you try and help, shit things happen.

Have you seen the fucking price of a bottle of Coke now?

It’s more expensive than actual coke thanks to you, and where’s our Turkey Twizzlers, you fucking pukka cunt?

Stop blaming Theresa May. She’s responsible for lots of shit, but not starving kids and making them fat simultaneously, like some fucking Schrödinger’s feeder.

Making sugar more expensive won’t change a thing, this is a societal issue:

The break down of family units, no transference of skills, busy single parents working two jobs etc, etc.

Oh and don’t forget the never ending stream of nasty, processed, yet convenient shite on offer.

This is just too complex for your bish bash boshy, mockney cokney, wishy washy, chefy shite, so shut the fuck up.

Just keep out of it. Stick to doing handbrake turns in your fucking Capri on gravel, like a fucking 80’s child’s drawing of what ‘cool’ is.

Go and make a thee a minute meal or something. Feel free to take your time though pal.

This is a fucking outrage, depriving Scots of booze is like denying northerners gravy, or southerners quinoa, or whatever shite the soft cunts are munching this week.

Let’s be honest, it’s just another poor tax. Yes, not everyone who drinks excessively is skint, but a lot of people struggling financially are twatted out of their skulls.

You can’t just price out an alcoholic, trust me. It’s like sugar tax. Let’s see how that goes after a couple of years, I bet we’ll all still be fat cunts but just more skint.

If someone is determined to get out of their mind to escape this shitty existence we call life, they’ll do it.

They might take a tenner from their nan’s purse, try meths, or dabble in glue-roma therapy.

They might give spice a whirl, or smack a chance. I don’t know, but what I do know is that they will, 100%, get fucked up if they want to.

Why do people do this?

I get it, other drivers, well other people in general can be fucking annoying, but this new type of evolved post road rage rant is pointless.

“To the man in the black Audi who nearly caused an accident on my way home, if it wasn’t for my quick reflexes and thinking, we’d both be in A&E now or worse still, dead.”

Right Kathleen, do you do realise Bob in the Audi can’t see this don’t you, you dumb cunt?

You understand that the two comments of “Hope ur OK x” from Louise and Jennifer, the three angry emojis from Karen, Paul and Jess, and the crying emoji from Kirsty won’t have any impact whatsoever on Bob?

Bob couldn’t give a fuck. In fact, that cunt is sleeping easy tonight and dreaming about not using indicators. He’s not even thinking about you and your stupid grey Corsa.

Why are people proud of being British, of a flag, and a leeching Monarchy?

Rewind back to the 90’s and being Patriotric was a whole different story. It was a celebration of culture, things like the Mini, Brit pop and art etc.

Now Britain feels cold, divisive and isolated. Fuck culture, we’re all about the flag and dreams of a 40’s all white Utopia that never fucking existed.

It’s not Patriotism any longer, it’s Nationalism.

I equate it to religion. You’re basically proud of your parents shagging here then staying.

If you happened to be born in Pakistan you’d most likely be a Muslim, likewise if you were born in Ireland you probably won’t be worshipping Vishnu.

You’re proud of chance, which is fucking madness.  If you find a tenner on the floor you’re happy for a fleeting moment, but you don’t celebrate it for the rest of your life with a superiority complex.

You may be proud of winning World War II, why? YOU didn’t fucking win it, YOU probably weren’t even a fucking Tinder swipe in a horny fucker’s eye.

Maybe it’s the olden days you crave? Simpler times when we all lived in a Manor, with staff on hand, games of cricket on the green and a fucking Bentley on the drive?

Well I’ve got new for you sunshine, if you work in a call centre today, then this was never the life your family had.

Back then your relatives were probably working 60 hours down a mine with no weekends, free healthcare, or barely enough money to feed themselves. Wave your fucking flags to that.

Maybe you’re proud of Britain now? If you are then you’re as dense as diamond.

Yeah let’s have a street party and celebrate child poverty, mass homelessness and Naziesque deportations. Gawd bless the Queen!

Either Amber Rudd is lying through her teeth, or she’s got early onset dementia. She can’t remember a fucking thing, like what she does at work all day.

If she’s lying, can’t remember, or simply doesn’t know what happens in her own department then why the fuck is she still in the job?

If I gave any of those excuses to my gaffer, he’d have me up in front HR quicker than if I’d grabbed the receptionist’s arse whilst shouting “Owzit sugar tits?”

Don’t get me wrong, I’m fully aware that Rudd is merely Darth Vader to May’s Emperor Palpatine, but that haggered psychopath should fuck off too.

In fact, the only reason I’m not raging about May not resigning is the knowledge that she’ll likely be replaced with the MP for 1828, Jacob Double-Barreled Cunt.

They should just stop pretending. Fuck it, it’s Brexit Britain! Let’s take it all back, put the flags out, change The Home Office to the Go Home Office and make anyone who didn’t come over on a Roman boat wear a fucking  badge.

Oh, remember the important issue though, Jeremy Corbyn is anti-Semitic.

I’m struggling to engage with politics at the moment, which is a shitty position to be in when you’re trying to run a failing satire site.

Giving any attention to these besuited morons, flinging shit at each other in their human zoo, whilst jeering and grinning maniacally as they jack boot us in the face is exhausting.

Even Question Time is a chore nowadays, especially when you realise half the audience are Tory MP’s ‘disquised’ as normal folk, by wearing something from the fucking Georgio ArAsda range.

It’s like having a cocaine fuelled candle lit wank to a damp black and white image of a pair of legs, crudely torn from the lingerie section of your nan’s catalogue. It’s fucking difficult.

Nonetheless I tried by catching the ‘highlights’ of PMQ’s from the Channel 4 News Facebook page earlier today.

Nothing has changed much, Corbyn is angry and righteous but still fucks up the odd word and delivers his points with all the gravitas of a lost tourist asking for directions.

The front bench still sit there acting like spoilt kids who are being punished by having their iPhones confiscated, whilst shouting incomprehensible moans like dying men in nursing home who hate the fucking mashed potatoes, but can’t articulate it to the nurse.

And then there’s May. Standing there with that perpetual smirk, like the cat that murdered the milk man to get the fucking cream.

Still oozing that facade of confidence as if she’s liked, or even respected. Still somehow floating on the surface giving the illusion of strength and stability, whilst her webbed Louis Vuitton clad feet flail beneath the water.

It’s the same old shit, a bullet pointed list of Labour slurs about managing the economy that’s been photocopied so many times it’s turned black enough to be deported.

Her shrill hate spout still churning out bile and superiority, with all the relish of a pubescent school boy explaining Fortnite to his bored mam, as her half mooned eye sacks dance playfully on her spherical botoxed cheeks.

Nothing has changed. I doubt it ever will.