Macron: “Work Until You Die”

“Les paysans are revolting,” President Macron told one of his pension reform ministers.

“Oui, ils stink, as they have toujours stunk. Les rats are everywhere in Paris amongst the dumped rubbish. Give them une semaine or so of rioting et elles vont come to the realisation that there is rien they can do to arrêtez-nous forcing them to faire leur boulot de merde until they drop off and mourir. As long as they pay their taxes on s’en fiche. The unwashed masses are vraiment revolting sir, Je suis d’accord emphatically.”

Indeed, as is always the case with Emanuelle Macron, his popularity precedes him, and to think the French voters voted for this vermin — twice.

You get what you voted for mes amis, and as the rubbish strewn boulevards stink to high heaven, so does Macron’s forced pension policy forcing the people to retire two years later than usual.

Yes, we are all tax slaves, however after working yourself to the bone for your entire life, would it not be good to get a few years of respite? By the age of 64 most people in today’s modern microplastic infested world will only have cancer to look forward to in their last remaining years.

One can only imagine the indignation and distraught level of anger permeating from France’s towns and cities.

Where is the joie de vivre here amongst the thick smoke and bricks flying at the heads of Macron’s thugs in riot gear? What have the poor French populace got to look forward to now as they are forced to feed the tax man and the politicians in their palaces until they literally drop dead on the fucking job?

Would it not be a beautiful sight to see the guillotine being rolled out once again, and these parasitical politicians one by one looking into a basket before the sharp whizzing sound of the blade decapitates the bastards?

Remember, to truly have a revolution EVERY MAN, WOMAN AND CHILD must revolt all at the same time. The Rosbifs do not have the balls to do such things, but it is in the French blood to revolt and fight for their rights.

Ća suffit…