Pigs across the United Kingdom are frankly disgusted at news that David Cameron stuck his honourable member in one of their numbers’ mouth.
“Doesn’t matter if the old chap was dead, it’s a bit orf isn’t it? Surely David could have shown a bit more class than defiling our like with such grotesque displays amongst his Oxford chums,” a pig said from his pen in some shed just before being slaughtered.
Goes to show, piss off a billionaire and get your immaculately ironed laundry dragged through a pig pen for all to see.
Imagine a country where there is one camera for eleven people, where your every movement is tracked, where your every conversation is recorded and where restrictions apply to how you live your life and every decision you wish to make is dictated to you.
East Germany, Soviet Russia, George Orwell’s 1984, Terry Gilliam’s Brazil — no — Britain 2015.
“The positive thing is that it will only get worse, every year they bring in more restrictions to human living. The super-state of the EU encompasses all and the UK is part of this behemoth amalgamated bureaucratic dictatorial state of permanent surveillance,” a person who dared to say anything said before being taken away in an unmarked van.
The beauty of the system is that the population pay to be imprisoned. Smart phones galore they queue for hours to buy devices that track their every movement and conversation. They download apps that specifically inspect their every movement and contact list. Social networking is the ideal place for the clueless lemmings to be spied on and not having a Facebook page is deemed a crime in itself by the brainwashed plebs worthy of nothing but contempt.
Consider liberty and you are labelled a trouble maker, marked for deletion, not only by the authorities but by the enslaved masses too happy to shop you in for spoiling their permanent state of entertainment. Freedom is a dream, a word in a dictionary that means nothing.
Pass the marmalade, which brand do you use, how do you apply it to the toast, yes my smart-toaster knows best as it relays the information on to whoever needs it. Ah, the smart-meter tells me I used up a little too much kilowattage last night, therefore it relays data to whomever it concerns on what appliances one uses in the household and how much allowance is permitted for the coming week.
And so we come to the cashless society, a place where if one disobeys or mentions discontent, they get electronically erased, no food, no water, no job. It certainly is a very hefty stick to wield by the almighty control system, a totalitarian tip toe here, an almighty step there.
How long before the microchipping begins? Will you be able to hold employment, buy food, get a hospital bed or go to school without one? Certainly not. Your number will be up, next on the line as another example to be made for your silence and inaction. Your digital prison awaits.
Aye, it’s not only cold, wet and miserable up North, but now there’s an extra little surprise to be found when you take a piss and green slime pops out of your lower urine delivery unit, oozing and spitting like an angry dragon with indigestion on steroids.
Friday night down in Newcastle, the scantily clad munters are out on force, and the blokes are raring to go in their white t-shirts and wild-eyed boozed up stares. The town centre’s bustling under the weight of religious lager fuelled sex, violence and drugs, and to add to the mix, a deadly strain of super gonorrhoea.
You may think it’s just another Friday night, but in the morning you wake up next to an old boiler, vomit into a half eaten doner kebab and make the long journey towards the toilet. This time, something’s wrong and you feel it in your nether regions, yes a burning sensation that you’ve never felt before except that one time you accidentally mixed up the vapo rub instead of the nivea and had a jostle before realising it was too late. Your meat pump seems like it’s on fire, you shout out in agony which invariably wakes up the girl who just gave you super gonorrhoea. Then, to top it off, instead of pee pee coming from your shogun’s eye, an eruption of different sorts shoots all over the toilet seat cover, it’s green slime, looking and smelling like something dredged up from the inside of a Chinese takeaway restaurant’s fridge.
“Something wrong luv?”
“Yeah, you gave me drug resistant super gonorrhoea. Thank you!”
As of writing this, there are 416 days 9992 hours 599535 minutes 35972105 seconds till Obama leaves the presidency of the United States.
What he will do then is anybody’s guess, but millions of Americans and global citizens will be very glad to see the back of Obama, for what he has done to this world is something that cannot be quantified with mere words, a disgusted grunt of dissatisfaction would suffice.
Pop star Elton John is making immediate plans to travel to Moscow, Russia for an urgent imaginary meeting with President Vladimir Putin to discuss the benefits of homosexuality.
“This is urgent. After the phone call with Putin I immediately announced to the world through social networks that I had a fabulous conversation with him. I am so excited to be invited to Moscow. Maybe we can have a Russian sauna and beat each other with twigs together, he is so macho and hunky. I hope the president has an Italian marble floor in his bathroom so Furnish and I can roll around on it,” Sir Elton said excitedly from his penthouse in Miami.
Sir Elton John is expecting a red carpet welcome to Russia and full hospitality including saunas, dancing boys and lots of unmentionable things.
John has a notoriously bad temper so these demands better happen, or else. You have been warned Putin.
Where’s Jean Claude Juncker when you need him? Probably on another jug of cognac by the looks of things at the borders.
What happened to Europe’s open arm welcome to hundreds of thousands of refugees and economic migrants?
Cruel Joke
“First it was all welcome, then they all shut their borders. I assume it was all one big tease. The funny thing is when they opened the borders, this gave hundreds of thousands more people from Africa and the Middle East the green light. Now it seems to have been for nothing as millions feel entitled to their European dream of massive welfare handouts. Just another day in the EU’s socialist paradise,” Hans Koenig, a reporter in Hungary told Reuters.
The backlog along the borders now extends for miles with desperate economic migrants shut out of their ultimate prize. So close, yet so far, their dreams shattered by the shambolic policies of the European DisUnion.
The fault is firmly on the shoulders of the indecisive incompetent EU leaders who don’t seem to know their elbows from their arses.
It was highly irresponsible for the EU leaders like Juncker to dangle the carrot in front of the refugees encouraging more human traffickers to gain a foothold along the borders invariably causing a spiral of human misery to escalate.
Wearing a seatbelt can prevent you being thrown through the vehicle’s wind shield and making a mighty mess all over the windshield or road. If you know this and are still not wearing a seatbelt you’re a bit reckless aren’t you? Think about it, Bang, Crunch, Squash! Not too good eh. Seatbelts should be worn by all passengers, don’t for one second think you are safe at the back of the vehicle either.
The Human Collision
Imagine running as fast as you can – into a wall. It’s all physics innit, when a car stops abruptly, the passengers inside are still moving and unless they’re strapped in then they go for a long very fast ride against hard objects. It’s common sense so use a seatbelt.
A properly worn safety belt keeps that second collision – the human collision – from happening.
Wear It Right
“Properly worn” means with both straps snugly fitted to transfer the impact of the collision to the parts of your body that can take it – your hipbones and shoulder bones protecting your chest.
What’s Your Reason For Not Wearing One?
“I don’t need a belt – I’ve got air bags.” Lucky you! An air bag or two increases the effectiveness of a safety belt by 40 percent. But air bags were never meant to be used in place of safety belts, since they don’t protect against side impacts.
“It’s just a short journey to my local pub to get blootered then drive back!” Yes, but did you know that 80% of accidents occur within a short distance from your home?
“I don’t need a seatbelt because I’m invincible when on cocaine and I’m a good driver as well.” Sure you are. Will you be saying that when they’re pulling the steering wheel from your chest cavity?
“I’m like the Stig from Top Gear.” The Stig wears a seatbelt and has a roll cage and a helmet, you don’t.
“I’m like Richard Hammond.” You definitely will need a seatbelt then.
After much dilly dallying, Comrade Corbyn has finally revealed his cabinet for government. In the early hours of the morning, he was driven from his £900,000 7-bedroom dacha to a secret location where the line up of his new cabinet was announced to much cheer.
Heading the list will be Commissar Scotch McScotch, a man who hates the English so much he has them regularly flogged in front of him during his breakfast of a single piece of oatmeal splashed with some Scotch. Commissar McScotch will be in charge of the economy, something he detests even more than the fucking English.
Commissar Engle will be in charge of rationing and queueing. It will be her job to make sure that food queues do not get shorter than a hundred citizens a time. She will also ensure that state run shops have permanently empty shelves and bread has the right amount of rat droppings embedded in each loaf.
Anti-royal Commissar Vladimir Potemkin will be in charge of dismantling the British royal family. He will first start by exposing Kate Middleton as a commoner, which he says will be a big blow for the pure blue blood family of Windsors. Buckingham Palace will be torn down and a refugee processing camp will be put in its place. The royals will be paraded through the streets before being taken to Red Square (previously Trafalgar) and hanged.
Head of the reformed Stasi, a post formerly held by Kommandant Jacqui Smith, the new appointee has been announced, and he is only known as Kommandant Zersetzung. He will be in charge of all Administration protocols including garbage disposal and analysis for the Ministry of Truth. All surveillance levels for the reformed Stasi will stay the same as they are now and there is no need to do anything more.
The rest of the inner party cabinet will be announced at a later date as needed.
As if it weren’t bad enough seeing the high-pitched voiced gimp, David Beckham moping around LA with the derogatory celebrity Scumbucks to-go cup and his mutilated arms dragging along the pavement, we also have to endure the parading missus and her permanently constipated scowl trying to make herself relevant by doing ‘fashion’.
To add insult to injury, we additionally have to put up with their vulgar low-bred chav progeny being spammed into every media orifice.
With a name like ‘Brooklyn’ and part of the crude Beckhams, he was guaranteed to be a smirking inane entitled shister of the highest order, a turd gently ambling down the side of a bowl in some Chingford betting shop toilet.
Sporting the same haircut as his dad, pig-eyed Brooklyn is a mediocre looking teenager of low breeding with no distinguishing qualities apart from possessing a lower IQ than his ex-footballer father, a prime example of nepotism gone wrong.
“These shit celebrity offspring are tolerated because we are paid to tolerate them,” an LA model agent revealed on condition of anonymity.
Oktoberfest is set to be quite a cracker this year, especially with the hundreds of thousands of migrants surging into Germany from Africa and the Middle East.
Otto Von Kleimer, the event’s organiser was sanguine about the beer, food and frolicking Fräulein festival.
“Although beer, pussy and pork is now banned in Germany, we still aim to try and have a good festival. Currently we are housing 400,000 refugees from Eritrea and Syria in tents, and the violent riots and ensuing chaos will still be mildly entertaining.”
