Sean Spicer is right, even Hitler wouldn’t stoop so low as to use chemical weapons

Apart from the vast sheds he had built filled with the chemical gas Zyklon B, to murder millions of innocent Jews and everyone mentioned in Cher’s hit song; Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves, in his human abattoir experiments.

Sean Spicer, you’re a fucking chemical weapon. If your balls had dropped you’d actually sound quite sinister instead of sounding like a coked up choir boy playing war with his senile old grampa, you fucking clueless holocaust denying cunt.

You’re not a spin doctor, more a spin temp on his first day after graduating from Trump university. As far as PR goes, Trump would be better served employing a rabid chimpanzee who launches balls of its own rolled up shite at the waiting press than you.

You’re a fucking joke of a man, if you were written into The Thick of It by the pure genius of Iannucci himself, your character would be expelled at the editing stage and he’d be sectioned under the mental health act for writing such unbelievable bollocks, you hoof wanking pig eyed castrato.

You’re a fucking shite stuttering news abuser on speed, a cartoon drawing of Joseph Goebbels scrawled by the mouth of the mutated limbless offspring of a retarded pig and an ex PM, who’s just had a GCSE history lesson on World War 2 delivered by a pissed up Farage off his bonce on Spice, you fucking hollowed out husk of a shit impression of a cunt.

Come the fuck in or fuck the fuck off you cunt.


“What tym dose Asdas close?”

“When r the 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 spoke 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 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 raise awareness about something, don’t use some fucking impersonal generic template and beg for shares.

P.S. Please share this. Only 3 of you cunts will.

Offence is like a fine wine you can’t afford it so stop fucking taking it

The Independent went through a phase of showing women in knickers with fucking period stains because it’s ‘natural’ and ’empowering’. I didn’t like it and said so, but then people got offended at my apparent offense. I wasn’t offended, I just don’t want so see that shite when I’m eating my fucking corn flakes.

Am I wrong? Sometimes I get a bit too pissed and do a wet fart. Would you like to see me posing in my shite stained kex on your news feed? Why the fuck not? It’s perfectly natural you sexist cunt.

Everyone is outraged these days. There will people who read ‘fucking’ in the first sentence of this post and will be so outraged that instead of scrolling past, they’ll write in the comments that I’m an uneducated fool who should have his mouth washed out, usually with lots of spelling mistakes and no punctuation. You have my permission to call these people cunts. What’s washing my mouth out going to? This has been fucking typed.

It’s like we’ve all been infected with the Mary Whitehouse strain of the little bitch virus. “You have to respect my views as a celibate tri sexual veganised water worshipper.”

No. We fucking don’t. I’m an atheist. I have zero respect for any religion, but I’ll defend anyone’s right to believe what they want. I’m not offended that you believe in God, so don’t be offended that I don’t. I don’t respect religion but I do respect people who believe in it.

It’s about balance, you can disbelieve without purposely trying to be offensive and if you do that, then it is given, not needlessly taken. In that respect you have a right to be offended.

The worse people are the ones who get outraged or offended on behalf of someone else. “Dr. Dre said then N word! As a middle class white man from Kent I’m deeply offended by this on behalf of my black American brothers.” No you’re not. Shut the fuck up cunt.

Monday’s attack was horrific

I’m not afraid to say that these events don’t usually get to me, as heartless as that sounds. They’re always someone else’s problem. London or Paris etc. There’s so many of them that you become desensitised and numb. There’s just so much pain in the world that if you let it, it will fucking devour you.

This was different. This was local. My city and my people. I stayed up watching the rolling news, or should I say lack of it. I was angry with senior Police and the lack of information being released, after all, when was the last time you saw an event like this take so long to break in the news? After two hours of watching the same three second clip of Ambulances, Sky News were discussing balloons and fucking speakers exploding.

My anger was misplaced of course. I knew deep down that this was something bad and with hindsight, the police were just trying to keep their intelligence to themselves. That way they retained an element of surprise for the protection of all of us.

The Police, despite 7 years of crippling cuts, along with everyone else involved that night, were amazing.

It’s easy to go on about the wonderful people of Manchester helping each other out, but the truth is that happens anywhere that such tragedy strikes. People are, for the most part, essentially good. A point which gets easier and easier to oversee in today’s hostile climate.

It’s also difficult not to get caught up in a patriotic wave, but fuck it, I will. The Police and The NHS coped tremendously that night, but the truth is they would have coped with 200 fewer officers and 200 fewer nurses just as well. We brits are resilient as fuck. We fought WW2 with songs and 2 ounces of fuck all. We make shit happen. We always triumph.

That cunt, I won’t say his name, robbed 22 families of their loved ones. He attacked fucking children and injured scores of innocent people. There are no words to express my utter disdain for this backwards thinking moron or the poison oozing bastards who radicalised him, knowing full well that they will never die for their so called beliefs.

But he took more than that. He robbed my sense of security and for a second, a second too long, he made me hate all the people he pretended to represent, and that is unforgivable.

I’m ashamed to admit it, but it didn’t take long for my logic to be restored and it’s embarrassing to admit that terrorism worked on me, even if it was for a second. A second that felt like an eternity.

He hurt all of us but he didn’t break us. They never will. The following day I was in a taxi and the Asian driver felt the need to denounce it. To point out how sick the attacker was and that radicals should be hanged.

His outrage was laboured but genuine. I felt sorry for him. How may times did he feel he had to condemn the acts of a guy who had fuck all to do with him that day alone? I wanted to shake him and say ‘Stop! You don’t have to fucking do this for every customer. This has nothing to do with you’. I gave him a tip instead.

My words would have been hollow anyway. What good is me telling him that when you’ve got scum like Hopkins and Morgan chomping at the bit to politicise and cash in on tragedy, when the political parties are taking a break? The Sun ran with a picture of Jeremy Corbyn ‘with blood on his hands’ for Christ’s sake.

Dropping bombs, spreading vitriol against normal people. It’s not fucking working is it? The wheel of hate just keeps turning. The answer? I don’t have one but being stuck in this cycle isn’t it.

So. Keep being people. Keep that free taxi rides, free brews, free rooms spirit. Keep giving blood and getting bee tattoos and singing. Keep fucking loving each other because what’s the alternative?

Final Solution? You went full Nazi Katie

Glancing your contorted hate filled donkey scrotum of a face, as I flick through 50 channels of shite is akin to finding a fucking lump on my bollocks, both unwelcome and terrifying.

You’re a Vulcan headed bile injected venom spitting arse tag, and a raised eye browed disdain dealing spunk chinned dick head divider.

You don’t just court controversy do you Katie? you marry it, abort its fucking children then smear the remnants over the pages of The Daily Mail before shitting on it and calling it a fucking article, you Pez dispenser of bollocks.

There are still children in intensive care. General Election campaigning has ceased, yet you couldn’t fucking wait to politicise this tragedy could you? Cheap point scoring and spreading your Nazi rhetoric like the cancer that it is.

Final solution? You make me fucking heave you callous hate filled cunt. You couldn’t even spell Manchester correctly. You were foaming at the bit to push your warped agenda, appealing to the senseless knuckle dragging gob shites who pay your wages.

You’re vermin. The lowest of the low. You deal in human misery and self righteousness. You’re an oxygen thief and a waste of space. A pantomime villain. You’re a fucking parody of yourself . Fuck you.


You’ve got 1 day left to register to vote…

If you’re young then you’re probably sick to death of hearing this but for fuck sake register to vote.

For every one of you that can’t be arsed, there’s a 100 fucking pensioners already filling up their flasks, frothing at the bit to vote for Kim Jong May and her strong and stable attack on everything you hold dear.

Just do it. It takes 5 minutes, unless you’ve got debt collecters after you, in which case give it a miss because they’ll have your address and you’ll end up with that patronising old wig wearing cunt from ‘Can’t Pay We’ll Take it Away’ on your doorstep.

The tories are going to win. There’s no doubt in my mind about that because people are fucking thick. That’s not an excuse not to vote though. At least you’ll be able to say you did your bit.

I don’t care who you vote for but just remember this….

The Tories have increased the national debt by £550 billion, doubled the amount of homeless people and plunged hundreds of thousands of children into poverty. The number of food banks has increased by 400% under them. Fucking food banks, in the fifth richest economy in world. That is madness.

Zero hour contracts are through the roof. The NHS is being sold off, dismantled and privatised. Disability benefit has been cut by £30 a week.

If you’re 5 minutes late to your job centre interview you can be sanctioned meaning you don’t get money to pay your bills or feed your kids. People are literally killing themselves as a result of these policies.

Pensions have decreased. Police funding has been cut. Public services like libraries and swimming pools have closed down. Sure Start Centres have closed. I could go on.

Basically if you give a shit about people who aren’t millionaires don’t fucking vote Conservative.

And if some bedraggled manic eyed hyper cunt, with teeth like the piano keys from from the film Big pops up on YouTube and tells you to rip up your polling cards, ignore the fucking twat.

Scrap free school meals?

Are you fucking serious? You don’t want to be Thatcher anymore do you? You want her to be remembered as a fucking soft touch.
Cruella is far too Disney. Let’s inject a bit of real culture into this campaign. You’ve gone full on Mr. fucking Bumble but you can’t have more if there’s fuck all to begin with.
You’re Mary Antoinette without the misquote. You’re not even going to give the kiddies bread, let alone cake.
And dementia tax, what? Are you hoping they’ll just fucking forget? You may as well send MP’s round dressed like fucking gas men ‘to read the meter’ before robbing the poor cunts blind.
They’ll still vote in their fucking droves though won’t they. Millions of deluded working class wankers who are convinced they’re middle class, because they have a Fiat 500 on HP and a fucking Smart TV from Littlewoods.
Yes, you and your merry band of media tycoons have got people one slip away from the dole hating everyone drawing it. What’s the Wizard of Oz’s next trick? Get people on minimum wage despising the NHS? Is this the direction in which we’re moving now?
That decomposing bile filled bollock could turn Lord Sugar against money for fuck sake.
Initially I thought you just didn’t want to win because Brexit is going to be a fucking shit storm. Now I’m not so sure.
You’re as arrogant as an ‘in talks with Netflix’ Clarkson and as out of touch as fucking Bez on crack.

I can’t wait for the unveiling of the Conservative Manifesto….

I can’t wait for the unveiling of the Conservative Manifesto. A year off work unpaid to look after your dying granny so the NHS doesn’t have to. Fuck me, that’s a vote winner right there. I suppose at home your fully patched Windows 10 laptop won’t accidentally make a brew instead of running her dialysis machine, before asking you for your fucking credit card details.

That wasn’t a hack by the way, that was just the tories dipping their toe in the water, to see how the public would react when asked to pop their pin in for a cheeky look at their own Virgin medical records.

So what are the other policies on offer? 100 x 0 hour contracts? A promise of 100 guaranteed no hours per month?

200 brand new food banks a year for the next 5 years?

Compulsory assisted dying for those deemed a burden to the Democratic Republic of Great England?

Let’s be honest, the rumoured announcements so far have been less dazzling than a Lada headlight haven’t they? Corbyn’s going to end world poverty with a fucking poem at a rally, Farron’s walking around in a ‘I’m the 48%’ T-Shirt whilst smoking a spliff, and Paul Nutall is in some alien town, pretending he’s lived there all his life whilst having an existential crises over his 9th pint of Carling.

And what are you doing Theresa? Apart from being miffed at disabled people and creaming yourself over dead foxes? Ah that’s right, promising people no money for not working.

It’s like you don’t want to win. It’s like you’ve just thought ‘ah, no one wanted this job did they?’ when you realised that Brexit means fucking nightmare. Has the penny finally dropped? Have you realised that this is going to more chaotic than a late Boris looking for his fucking car keys?

Well it’s too late now. Fox hunting isn’t going to swing it. You could literally stand in front of a lectern tomorrow and announce the hunger games and you’d still win by a fucking landslide.

Corbyn could turn water into wine before ascending to heaven and Mail readers would be pointing out his obvious fucking drink problem.

There’s no turning back now.

Jezza man, wake the fuck up. You’ve got three weeks…

Jezza man, wake the fuck up. You’ve got three weeks to sort your fucking shit out. I know, I know, kinder fairer politics blah blah blah. That shit won’t wash pal. You can’t fight the fucking Nazis by throwing rose petals and expressing your disdain through the medium of interpretive dance.

The world is on the brink of nuclear war so shut the fuck up about abolishing Trident for now. We love an underdog in the UK but not a fucking liability son. So get yourself a fucking spin doctor and a suit, play the establishment game and for fuck sake memorise your notes because at the moment you sound like a confused missing grandfather at a bus station.

You won’t win, you can’t fucking win and even if you were competent, that cunt Murdoch will devour you like John Prescott with cake at a christening. Still, taking all that into consideration, a fucking brick would be better than these shower of cunts.

So, get to it, I want to see a Rocky style montage of you holding babies, people laughing at your anecdotes, you stood in a new hospital with your sleeves rolled up and your tie tucked into your shirt, and on building sites with a high visibility jacket and a hard hat. Yes, the only way you can win over the great British brainless bastards is to become a fucking mock Tory.