Showing posts with label islay. Show all posts
Showing posts with label islay. Show all posts

Sunday, 8 February 2009

We're Not All Fucking Chavs


The Grumpy Old Twat has been shocked to the core, yet again, by some marketing mong or other who has decided to 'fix' something that just isn't fucking broken.

Most of you will all ready know that I don't like change for change's sake and it certainly fucks me off big time when some spotty faced twat, fresh out of marketing school, decides to fuck around with perfectly adequate existing foodstuffs that have been happily available in the same traditional way for donkeys years.

Well, Walkers 'jug eared smug twat lineker' Crisps have decided we now need some new flavours with which to tickle our taste buds. Oh no, Ready Salted, Cheese & Onion, Salt & Vinegar and Smokey Bacon just aren't fucking good enough for us anymore.

Ok, ok, so I admit to the odd packet of Tomato Ketchup flavour but it appears that those who know best at Wankers Crisps have decided that we have now all become lardy arsed, gut bucketing, 50" plasma watching, fat fucking freeloading, tasteless Chavs and we now need these 6 new flavours to suit our benefit fueled lay-about lifestyle.
  1. Onion Bahji
  2. Fish & Chips
  3. Cajun Squirrel
  4. Builder's Breakfast
  5. Chilli & Chocolate
  6. Crispy Duck & Hoisin

I fucking shit you not!

Whaaaat the buggery, fucking, bollocks of a planet were these 'fuck up our food' fuckers on when they thought of this pile of shit? And what kind of sad fuck sits down in his laboratory, whips out his tasteless taste buds, and decides what fucking squirrel should taste like?



Just fuck the fuck off, get a new life and leave our crispy comestibles alone!

It's enough to drive me to drink.

Oh, ok then, just a bottle of Islay single malt with the top off and a straw inserted . . . .  oh, and perhaps a few Twiglets would be nice. No 'funny fuck' flavours though.

Twats!

Sunday, 7 December 2008

The Spirit of Christmas


It just isn't the same anymore.
The only spirit of the season that remains
is a nice single malt from Islay.

Apart from the fact that it's
"all about the money"
Christmas, Xmas, Winter Festival
or whatever else the fuck it's called these days,
is yet another sad victim of the
'politically correct' minefield.

You can't send cards depicting Christ,
you can't perform the nativity in school
and whatever you do
don't sing a fucking carol,
just in case you offend someone
with other religious beliefs.

So I shall just be getting pissed
during the newly named festive period of
Grumpy Old Twat Mas