Saturday, 31 January 2009

I'm Just A Fucking GONT

I just can't help it.

I've just got so fucking grumpy recently because of all the bollocks being jerked off onto us by those twats at Nulabore and the mindless shit flying everywhere you turn and the constant feeling that we are all totally fucked.

The result of all this?
My sanity defense mechanism has finally kicked in and I've gone all fucking nostalgic.

Yes, I'm afraid that nostalgia is the thing for me at the moment, 70's and 80's way of life; music, food, drink, TV, films and cars. Well, anything really (except platform shoes, Crossroads and not-so-mobile phones) that helps me harp back to the good old fucking days.

Fucking hell I'm sounding really old.
A Grumpy Old Nostalgic Twat.
A GONT, if you will.

I think the problem started here and here then I started to get even more reflective after visting here, and here, I make no apologies, I think it's a good thing and reflection is a tool that should be used a little more often. It helps one to find a balance in life.

Fuck only knows how long this mini-mid-life-days of yore-bollocks is going to go on for, or what the fuck is going to appear on this blog in the next few days.

One thing I can be sure of, I'm going to thoroughly fucking enjoy it. If it's not for you then fair enough, pop back in a while when I've snapped out of it.

As for Gordoom.
Kiss my fucking arse goodbye for now (but no tongue).
Normal service will be resumed.
You fat cunt!

Glitter Band anyone???

(guaranteed devoid of the dirty, bald, goatee bearded, fat, old kiddy fiddler)

Anarchy In The UK

Friday, 30 January 2009

Jelly Babies

I love Jelly Babies, especially the black ones.

Black Jelly Babies!

You racist!

I hate racist words like that.

I also hate black sheep, black ant, black market, black economy, black hole, black eye, black spot, black swan, black widow, blackmail, blacksmith, blackbird, black bean, black beetle, black belt, blackboard, black adder, black cat, blackjack, black, box, black watch, black rod, black knight and black humour.

Oh, and black this and black that . . . . 

Fuck off!  I'm not a racist.
I'm just saying that I like black Jelly Babies.

That is all.

Brownfingers's Mystery Caller

Gordoom Brownfinger looked a right twat (no change there then) at a top level meeting in Davos today. His mobile phone rang twice whilst he was addressing business and political leaders. The one eyed fat fuck was reluctant to disclose the identity of the caller but apparently they did leave a couple of messages on his voicemail.

"Hello Gordon, Prudence here. Thought it was about fucking time that you and I had  a chat.
Call me, I'm still waiting and I don't like continually being ignored"

"Oi, Gordon, Prudence here again. Why won't you return any of my calls? For fucks sake man, you really do need to listen to what I have to say. You just cannot afford to keep avoiding me any longer. Get your fat, one eyed face out of the sand before it REALLY is too fucking late!
Call me you twat, you know it makes sense!"

Wednesday, 28 January 2009

Who Are You Calling A Paki?

Am I right in thinking that Paki is just an abbreviation of the word Pakistani?

Two years ago Prince Harry called a colleague of his "Our little Paki friend", a remark for which he has recently been asked to apologise for.

The Pakistani in question was a friend of Harry's for fucks sake!

Am I also right in thinking that Brit is an abbreviation of British?

Therefore, should The Sun newspaper (chav comic) be asked to apologise every time it prints the word Brit? As in, The Brits are coming etc. Is the word Brit offensive too?

Is Scot offensive? What about Aussie, Kiwi, Pommie, Limey? The Cornish call holidaymakers Grockles, what's wrong with that?

If a Pakistini called you "His Brit friend" Would you be offended? Would you also demand an apology to be made on National TV and in the Press?

Of course you fucking wouldn't!

Where will all this fucking Righteous crap end?

Del Trotter mentions "The Paki shop" in an episode of Only Fools & Horses. This word has now been overdubbed for the repeat showings on UK Gold.

Should Sir David Jason apologise? What about John Sullivan or the BBC?

Should they fuck!

What about the 'Fuzzywuzzies' in Dads Army or "You stupid Kraut" in Fawlty Towers?
Both of these series are still being regularly repeated without any overdubbing.

What's the fucking difference?

All those brainless, Righteous fuckwits are doing is inciting racial hatred. It's fucking lunacy!

I'm not offended in the slightest when called  Brit, British, English, Pommie, Limey or whatever else the fuck you want to call me. I just don't give a flying fuck.

I only care when I'm being called a racist for no apparent, logical reason.

There seems to be an underlying trend for this kind of ridiculous, over zealous approach to race. Nobody within the Government, or local politics for that matter, seems to have the common fucking sense to draw the line and put a stop to this bollocks.

Grow the fuck up, you 'jobsworth' wankers!

Anyway, I'm looking forward to the Brit Awards on 18th February.

Incidentally, there will never be a Paki Awards, thanks to all the zealots, racists, bigots and Righteous shit-for-brains.


Anyhow, there will be many of our Paki friends at the Brit Awards and I'm sure that we Brits won't mind at all.

Will we?

Tuesday, 27 January 2009


The answers aren't coming.

It's the beginning of the end.

Monday, 26 January 2009

Man Cold, Man Flu, I'm Dying

It's arrived. I've got it.
And doesn't everyone fucking know it.
Especially Pigsy.

Been feeling rough as fuck the last couple of days and have now decided that I have the 'Man Cold'. Serious shit this. I've gone into mega fucking grumpy, old miserable fucking twat mode. 

Moaning like it's going out of fucking fashion, I am.

Pigsy keeps saying "Get over it, you miserable old twat, it's only a fucking cold!" 

Only a fucking cold!

Fuck off. This is serious, I'm dying

Sunday, 25 January 2009

You've Been Twatted

Saturday, 24 January 2009

A 'Sign Of The Times' Phonetic Alphabet

I was so pissed off with having to converse with the fucking muppets they employ at Call Centres that I decided to compose an alternative phonetic alphabet, based on the incompetence of Gordoom Brown and his Nulabore cronies.

I have found it most amusing when having to spell out my name/address etc.

The fuckwits, of course, do not find it as entertaining as I do.

Like I give a fuck. It makes me feel good.

A Anal Bandit
B Brownfinger
C Cunt
D Dictatorship
E Economically Fucked
F Fascist State
G Gordoom
H Hell
I Injustice
J Junkett
K Kakistocracy
L Lying
M Meddlesome
N Nanny State
O Objectionable
P Pravda
Q Querken
R Righteous
S Stealth Tax
T Totalitarian
U Unelected
V Vainglory
W We Are All Fucked
X Xenophilia
Y Yonderly
Z ZaNuLabore

You might also be interested to know that my name/address includes, 'w' four times,  'a' three times, 'e' twice and 'o' twice.

Oh, and try spelling New Labour.

Good times!

Ulrika Jonsson 'Wins' Celebrity Big Bollocks Brother

I couldn't give a flying fuck about this twat infested load of bollocks.

Votes were obviously rigged anyway. The 'chav baby machine' only won because she was paid the most money, £175,000, so the fucktards at Channel 4 had to make sure that she won.

I heard that she has already lined up Coolio to be the fifth father of her fifth child.
She is nothing but a talentless fucking bimbo. She'd make a fucking airhead look intelligent.

The one vaguely 'good' thing about her winning is that the complete tawt of a twatting twat, Terry 'the twat' Christian didn't fucking win.

I'd rather stick my head up an elephant's arse than watch this load of asinine shite.

That is all.

Friday, 23 January 2009

Many A True Word

Picture from TractorStats

The European Commission has just announced an agreement whereby English will be the official language of the European Union rather than German, which was the other possibility.

As part of the negotiations, the British Government conceded that English spelling had some room for improvement and has accepted a 5 year phase-in plan that would become known as 'Euro English'.

In the first year, 's' will replace the soft 'c'. This will certainly make the sivil servants jump for joy. The hard 'c' will be dropped in favour of the letter 'k'. This should klear up any konfusion. It also means that komputer keyboards kan have one less letter.

Publik enthusiasm for the new language will be growing in the sekond year when the troublesome 'ph' will be replaced with the letter 'f'. This will make words like fotograph 20% shorter.

In the 3rd year, publik akseptanse of the new spelling kan be expekted to reach the stage where more komplicated changes are possible.

Our Government will enkourage the removal of double letters which have always ben a deterent to akurate speling.

Also, al wil agre that the horibl mes of the silent 'e' in the languag is disgrasful and should b removed.

By the 4th year people wil b reseptiv to steps such as replasing 'th' with 'z' and 'w' with 'v'.

During ze fifz yer, ze unesesary 'o' kan b dropd from vords kontaining 'ou' and after ziz fifz yer, ve vil hav a reil sensible riten styl.

Zer vil b no mor trubl or difikultis and evrivun vil find it ezi tu understand ech oza. Ze drem of a united urop vil finali kum tru.

Und efter ze fifz yer, ve vil al be speking German like zey vunted in ze forst plas.

You may laugh but if Lord Meddlesome gets his way it won't be long before he ditches the pound for the fucking Euro.

This will then leave the way clear for Gordoom Brownfinger to complete his obvious quest to turn Great Britain into a fascist state by ultimately introducing a new language.

Spreken ze Deutch?

Wednesday, 21 January 2009

Top Gear's The Stig is Finally Revealed

So what.
Who gives a fuck?
I certainly don't. I don't even watch the blessed programme anymore.

That Jeremy Clarkson gets right on my tits these days. That self opinionated fat fuck of a dickhead is more interested in wasting BBC licence fee payers money, going on pointless jaunts to the 4 corners of the World, than actually telling us anything interesting about cars.

Anyway, the real identity of the Stig is Ben Collins.

Who the fuck is Ben Collins? Well apparently he is a little known sports car driver from Bristol with a particular skill for driving in the wet. His other main claim to fame is that he was the stunt driving double for Daniel Craig in The Quantum of Solace.

That's fucked Jeremy Twatson up the arse anyway.
The only interesting talking point to be generated by Twat Gear in recent years was trying to guess who the Stig was. So what next?

Like I give a shit.

Twatson Twat!

Tuesday, 20 January 2009

David Miliband - It's Just Not Cricket

I have just read another excellent post at The Lone Voice.
The subject of his vent was "the chap who is supposed to represent us on the World stage", Foreign Secretary, David Miliband.

It reminded me of the same nagging question that I've had in the back of my mind since the day the one eyed fat fuck, Gordoom Brownfinger, appointed The Bananaman (boy) to such an important position.

How is it that a 'schoolboy' could possibly be diplomatically astute, worldly wise and multicultural aware enough to be our Foreign Secretary?

In the not too distant past, whatever ones political leanings were, you could generally say that this highly important post was held by a person who was generally perceived to be experienced and respected.

For the sake of this discussion, I'm not talking about how successful they were or whether you actually liked or disliked them, it's more a question of how important it is that a Foreign Secretary appears outwardly 'experienced' to his counterparts on the World stage.

For example Douglas Hurd, David Owen, Sir Geofrey Howe, Franicis Pym, Malcolm Rifkind, Lord Carrington and even, to some extent, Jack Straw and Robin Cook.

Do you see what I mean? Where does David Miliband fit into all this?

Again, leaving politics aside, during his recent trip to India he appeared on television in New Delhi. He was taking part in some sort of question and answer session with students and demonstrated a remarkably good knowledge of cricket, India's favourite sport. He knew statistics, he new the names of their star players. He gave the impression that he was a genuine lover of their game.

In reality, the evening before, he was apparently seen 'acting' like he was taking an 'A' level exam the next day, cramming like fuck from an 'Idiots Guide to the History of Indian Cricket'.

For fuck's sake, if that's his perception of how to conduct oneself as Foreign Secretary then God help us all.

Swatting up like a fucking schoolkid the day before an exam. And on nothing more important than cricket. Don't get me wrong, I really love cricket but it's hardly the answer to the Mombai bombings is it?

Fucking hell man (boy), you're supposed to be the Foreign fucking Secretary not the Sports Minister on some sort of Sport For All junkett.

I find it all so worrying.

Not just the subject matter but the way David Miliband went about it.

Could you possibly comprehend Douglas Hurd swatting up like crazy, from an 'Idiots Guide to The History of East and West Germany', on the eve of a 'big eunification meeting'?

I fucking think not!

Bananaman (boy).
What a fucking embarrassment. 

Whatever next?

The 'Idiots Guide To Osama Bin Laden' the night before a big War on Terrorism meeting?

After me now. One skin, two skin, three skin, foreskin.


Sunday, 18 January 2009

Sharon Shoesmith Unemployable - Update

It seems that some small sense has prevailed. And not before time.

The bitch who was ultimately responsible for the lack of care, and tragic death, of that poor baby Peter Connelly has lost an appeal against her dismissal.

A spokesman for Haringey stated "She will not receive any compensation package. She will not receive any payment in lieu of notice . . . Ms Shoesmith will not be returning to work in Haringey.

About fucking time.

It's just a shame it took so long.
It's just a shame more tax payers money was wasted on a 3 day hearing, to reach this decision.
It's just a shame that Peter Connelly's welfare was not the subject of a similarly detailed and lengthy hearing.

The biggest shame of all is that nothing will ever undo all the physical, and mental torture, that poor Peter Connelly had to endure in his sad, short life.

Just because that heartless bitch Sharon Shoesmith couldn't give a fuck about anyone except herself. I hope she never finds peace.

No sign of the bitch resurfacing yet but I have only just realised this.

Although Haringey Council have stated that this heartless piece of shite would be leaving her post without a penny, she will still be getting a gold plated civil service pension.

Poor Peter Connelly's life cut short by the Cuntess of Haringey, who then has all the time in the world to decide how she will spend her £1.5 million reward for 'a job well done'.

Where is the fucking justice in that then!

Tony Hart Dies Peacefully

And so he deserves to. 

During my childhood he always appeared to me to be such a quiet unassuming person quietly demonstrating, in his own inimitable way, how we could all embrace the world of art.

He made it all look so easy. Anyone can be an artist.
Art was interesting, it was such fun, an exciting thing to do.

In those early days of Vision On he showed us that creating 'your own art' could easily be done with the most mundane of household materials. Cornflake packets, empty toilet rolls, grains of rice, cotton reels. Hey, you could even use felt tip pens and an old biro if you wanted to.

And who can forget Morph.
If it wasn't for him we also wouldn't be enjoying those subsequent, wonderful creations by Nick Park. 

Thank you Tony.
God Bless.

Saturday, 17 January 2009

Were You Born Before 1986?

According to the Nanny State and her Righteous followers, those of us who were children in the 60's, 70's and early 80's probably shouldn't have survived because our baby cots were coated with brightly coloured lead based paint which we often chewed and licked.

We had no child proof lids on medicine bottles or latches on doors and cabinets and it was fine to play with pots and pans. We were allowed to bleach our jeans, ourselves.

When we rode our bikes, we didn't wear helmets just flip flops and cardboard 'flickers' on our wheels. We would ride in cars with no seat belts or airbags and to sit in the front passenger seat was a treat.

We drank water from the garden hose and not from a bottle and it tasted good. We shared one drink with five friends, from one bottle or can, and none of us actually died as a result.

We ate chips, bread and butter pudding and drank 'pop' with sugar in it but we were never overweight because we were always outside playing with our mates.

We would spend hours and hours building go carts out of scrap wood and pram wheels and then went full tilt down a hill, only to realise that we had forgotten the brakes. So, after running into the stinging nettles a few times we learned to solve the problem.

We would leave home in the morning and were allowed to play all day as long as we were back before it got dark. Nobody was able to get in touch with us and no one minded.

We didn't have a Playstation or an XBox, in fact, no type of video games at all. Only 3 channels on the TV, no video tapes, no surround sound, no mobile phones and no personal computers. We had friends. We just went out and found them.

We played football and rounders and sometimes that ball really hurt! We fell out of trees, grazed our knees, broke bones but no one got sued. We had fist fights but our parents were never prosecuted by other kids' parents. We played 'knock and run' and were genuinely afraid of the house owners catching us.

We walked to friends houses. We also walked to school, we didn't wait for mummy to take us even though it was just around the corner.

We made up games with sticks, tennis balls and piles of coats. We rode our bikes in packs of 8 or 9 and only wore our coats by the hoods.

Our parents never bailed us out if we broke the law, they sided with it.  Our generation has produced some of the best risk takers, problem solvers and inventors, ever. Over the past 40 years or so there has been an abundance of innovation and new ideas. We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility. We learned how to deal with it all.

If you were born after 1986 you will never have heard 'We Are The World, We Are The Children'. The only 'Uptown Girl' you know is by Westlife and not Billy Joel. You will never have heard of Marc Bolan, Bananarama, Nena Cherry or Belinda Carlisle.

For you there has always been only one Germany and one Vietnam. Aids has existed since you were born and so have CDs. Michael Jackson has always been white. John Travolta has always been a fat guy to you and not the 'God of Dance'.

You also believe that Charlie's Angels and Mission Impossible are films. You will never have pretended to be the A-Team or the Famous Five. You will never have applied to be on Jim'll Fix It or Why Don't You?

You can't believe that we ever had black and white televisions and you will never understand how we could 'go out' without a mobile phone. You can never imagine life without computers.

If you were born before 1986 you will have understood everything that I have said and will probably have smiled. Your friends will all be married and you need to sleep more these days, usually until the afternoon, after a night out.

When you see kids with mobile phones you shake your head and 'tut'. You are always astounded to see young children so at ease with computers.

You may have remembered Dirty Den the first time he was on Eastenders. You still meet up with your friends from time to time, discuss the good old days and repeat stories about the things that you experienced together.

I was born in the 1960's.
I also hate what Nulabore has done and is STILL doing to me.
It's no wonder that I have become a Grumpy Old Twat!

That is all.

Friday, 16 January 2009

A Pair of Old Twats, A Twaterciser & Two Cocks

Pigsy introduces the Grumpy Old Twat
to the concept of sartorial elegance.

Jacqui and Hazel discuss their new exercise bike.
Apparently it's called the Harriet Harmoniser

Jacqui Smith has failed to deny that she would ever hold
a grudge, after she was rumoured to have
disguised herself as Richard Timney's dentist.

Two Jags Two Shags relaxes in his favourite chair
whilst practising Gordoom's one eyed reshuffle technique.

Thursday, 15 January 2009

Twat Abuse

Not quite sure what Madge the minge is trying to sell here. Herself or the Louis Vuitton bag that's hanging from her foot.

For fuck's sake!
Is it really necessary for you to take every possible opportunity to regale us with your 50 year old twat, you 50 year old twat.

Don't you think that enough people have seen it by now? I should imagine that you've had more pricks than a secondhand dartboard!

Incidentally, if the rumours are true, I hear that Bobby 'Basher' Brown is the latest in a long line of sextards to step up to the oche and 'strike the pose' with you.

Another case of twat abuse perhaps?

Wednesday, 14 January 2009

Arty Farty Entropa Melarky

A new 'art installation' outside the EU Council building in Brussels is causing a bit of stir amongst it's 'hoaxees' because it lampoons European stereotypes.

Personally I found it fucking hilarious. It was supposed to have been produced by artists from each of the 27 represented countries but was in fact entirely produced by a Czech artist and his two mates.

The 8 ton Airfix style hoax includes lampoons of:

Bulgaria as a series of squat toilets;
Holland as a series of minarets submerged in a flood;
Germany as a series of motorways in the shape of a swastika;
Poland is seen as a group of Catholic monks erecting the gay community Rainbow Flag;
France as a country on strike;
Romania as a Dracula style theme park;
Luxembourg as a small gold nugget for sale;
Italy looks like a football pitch;
Austria is a country full of nuclear power plants;
Sweden looks like an IKea box;
Ireland is just a set of wooly bagpipes;
Belgium is covered in chocolates and Spain is covered in concrete!

And the best fucking bit of all?
The UK is completely missing from this Airfix style kit of Europe. The artist has just left a space where it should have been!

He's got Brownfinger, and his fucking useless bunch of arse licking, dictatorial cronies, sussed then.
Fairplay to the cheeky, fucking, Czech twat!

Twitter Twatter

Twitter, the micro blogging site, had to suspend accounts belonging to 33 celebs last week after a hacker managed to hijack them and leave false information about their owners.

The Britney Spears 'attack' was the best one that I could find . . . 

"Hi Yall!  Brit Brit here, just wanted to update you all on the size of my vagina. Its about 4 feet wide with razor sharp teeth"

Bloody hell. Imagine that.
It'd be like waving your arm around in a warm room surrounded by barbed wire . . . 
. . . and you'd have to strap a plank to your arse, in case you fell in.

Tuesday, 13 January 2009

Seedy Gonzales

Fuck me sideways!
The Chavs would make a fortune doing this over here.  And there'd be a drink or two in it for them. No pizza though.

Apparently a 'Mexican entrepreneur', from California, decided to sell his 14 year old daughter. The guy even enlisted the services of a third party to broker the unusual 'wedding' deal.

The price?

$16,000, 160 cases of beer, 100 cases of soda, 50 cases of Gatorade (some kind of sports drink made by Quaker Oats - WTF!), two cases of wine and six cases of meat.

Unfortunately it all went a bit 'chilli' when the prospective 18 year old bridegroom, of the 14 year old girl, didn't live up to his end of the deal. So the father called the Police.

Oops. Our clever Mexican, in his haste to complain, must have forgotten that his daughter was 4 years under the legal age of consent in California. So it all kicked off.

The police subsequently discovered that the couple hadn't married but they had 'engaged in sexual relations'.  How politely put.

Stupid Yank twats!

Imagine if this had happened over here.
Fuck me. Nanny would have a stroke.

I don't expect social services would be bothered
to stretch out and reach though.

Bone idle twats!

Monday, 12 January 2009

Sad About David Vine

I was so sad to hear of the death of David Vine today, he was 73.

I have always had more than a passing interest in most things sporting and I felt he was an ever present part of my formative years and beyond.

Grandstand, Question of Sport, Ski Sunday, Rugby Special, Wimbledon, Superstars and of course who can forget the good old days at The Crucible.

It didn't seem to matter which programme he presented or commentated on, he always came across as a true gentleman, informative and professional. Qualities that seem sadly lacking in most of the sports presenters that we have been burdened with in more recent times.

On a lighter note.
I will never be able to forget those dreadful jumpers he used to sometimes wear.

God Bless.

Sunday, 11 January 2009

Carry On Signing Again

Here are a few signs that are utterly pointless,
as far as I'm concerned
but Nanny just seems to love them.

As for this one? Its fucking ridiculous, read it closely . . . 

. . . . the real message is almost lost in amongst
the Health & Safety bollocks.

Carry On Signing

Following an excellent signpost by the Lone Voice
I decided to gather together a few of my favourite UK road signs.

And, of course, I couldn't leave this one out . . . . 

Saturday, 10 January 2009

Sir Lord Ugly of Eurovision

"You have got to be shitting me Pigsy!", I said, as she drew my attention to yet another advert on the BBC.  Apparently it was about the Eurovision Song Contest.

"Your Country needs you!", it exclaimed gleefully.
"Maybe it does", I moaned, "But I need this pile of shite like a fucking hole in le bollock".

It was bad enough when Sir Wiggy Irish Fat Fucker was involved with it but now it appears that we have to put up with some 'light on yer toes' twat named after a motorbike. Something to do with the Le Pink Vote, according to Pigsy.


Now, as if that wasn't bad enough, the BBC have decided to pissoir even more licence fee payers money up the fucking wall by asking Sir Lord Ugly of Publicity Jockeys to pen a suitable ditty.
Pound to a pinch of shit it'll be called 'Le Doo Dee Dah Dee Dum Dum Doh', or some such bollocks. Sung by a pair of minge munching twins that no fucker has ever heard of, nor will again.

Who the fuck cares about some vote rigging, Euro karaoke pantomime that we have absolutely no chance of winning. With or without the help of Sir Lord Ugly with Pubes for Eyebrows.

Stop wasting our money you twats.
C'est rien que de la merde.
Va te faire enculer.

Quelle Surprise!

What did I tell you?

Lord Meddlesome of Man Muncher has indicated that tax payers money may be used to prop up the car industry in this Country.

That'll mean it fucking well will be then.

The Minister for Backdoor Agendas was quoted as saying "Commercial loans or guarantees from the Government to assist them to bridge a very difficult period may be needed but that is not what I would call a bail out"

What the fucking, buggery bollocks is it called then?

It's a fucking bail out you cretin!
Nothing more, nothing less.

Friday, 9 January 2009

Golden Brown

During a 3 year period, whilst Chancellor of the Exchequer, Gordoom managed to piss another £4.7billion of our money up the wall by selling gold bullion when its value was at a 20 year low.

Between 1999 and 2002 he auctioned off nearly 400 hundred tons of the fucking stuff for £2.2billion. The price of gold has since soared and at today's prices those same gold reserves would have been worth £6.9billion.

Gordoom Brown, the man with the mug us touch.


Tuesday, 6 January 2009

Nulabore Prefer Pikeys To War Veterans

Absolutely fucking enraged by this article which was spotted by the
All Seeing Eye & St Crispin. I won't go into all the sordid detail again here, so please try and read it.

What really fucking wound me up was the fact that a group of Royal Navy veterans are being turfed out of their clubhouse to make way for Pikeys.

Yes that's right. I shit you not. 

Hazel Blears would rather ride roughshod over people who risked life and limb for this country so that she can support the very scum of this country.

What the fucking buggery bollocks is that all about then?

And that bitch is throwing another £26m of tax payers money at those filthy fuckers because it will reduce the disturbance caused by illegal camps.

I still shit you not.

Pikeys are selfish, worthless pieces of shite.

These filthy, disgusting inbred fuckers are constantly copulating with each other to produce ever more vile mutants of the most brainless, thieving, scrounging, gob shitting creatures know to man.

The sole purpose of this mother fucking bunch of parasites is to suck us dry in every possible way that they can. Then laugh in our faces.

And, it would seem, all with the blessing and funding of mindless Government wankers.

And, most definitely in this case, at the expense of decent, ordinary people who have served this country well.

Once again Gordoom, (and that short arsed  poison dwarf of yours)
I am fucking disgusted at the way you continue to treat people with such utter derision.

And you wonder why people call you a cunt?