It was hard to avoid all the stuff about D-Day landings and it was obvious that it was being used to inspire everybody with the ‘Dunkirk Spirit’ that’s the Brexiteers’ stock-in-trade. They tried their best but, unlike Dunkirk, which they can use in a Britain-alone-against-the World kind of way, D-Day was all about international co-operation. It was embarrassing to hear all those old soldiers speak out against Brexit and how they wanted us in Europe, working together. I don’t think that was part of the plan.
I hate all these jingoistic displays, just as everybody does unless they’re English racists or Orange bastards. The sheer hypocrisy of it all being led by cunts that, during a war, just stand back and cheerlead. And I couldn’t believe Trump reading out the words of FDR, a man that stood against everything that Trump is. At least the Royals didn’t embarrass themselves too much. I noticed that Charlie wore a suit, instead of some uniform covered in medals that he did fuck all to earn.
“Did somebody mention Charlie?”
My daughter’s next-door neighbours are Spanish and she was saying recently how she was looking forward to the summer and hoping that they’d have a barbecue. She conjured up visions of fajitas and the like until I burst her bubble by saying that they’re Spanish, not Mexican. Talk about embarrassed! She had the good grace to admit that she was stereotyping and that, even if they were Mexican, they’d probably just serve up burgers and chicken, like everybody else.
And that’s something that I haven’t seen anybody mentioning about that Paul Gascoigne video. Everybody’s going on about what a poor, pathetic figure he cuts, how he needs to get help etc. etc. What struck me, though, was the way he automatically assumed that the guy would be able to get cocaine for him. The guy was a fan and looked happy to meet his hero. All that seemed to go through Gazza’s mind was – black guy – drugs! It’s not the first time he’s shown himself as a racist cunt. “No surrender,” he says. Christ, is there any substance he hasn’t surrendered to?
Meanwhile, the Daily Record is reporting that even though several European clubs are interested in El Guffalo, they’ve no chance because he’ll only move to the English Premier League. Do they honestly expect us to believe this pish? Probably not; but The Peeppul will lap it up. One question. If he’s so desperate to play in England, then why the fuck hasn’t he bothered to learn English?
The Daily Record also has the latest from the Scottish Child Abuse Inquiry and, surprise surprise, it’s all about a school run by a Catholic order. I thought this inquiry was supposed to be looking into all institutions; it certainly doesn’t seem that way. Then again, maybe the Daily Record picks and chooses which revelations are worth reporting. And they try to tell us that Orangeism is dying out!
And we’re still hearing calls for Celtic to issue a full-blown apology for Torbett etc. They don’t want money or anything, you understand; just a heart-felt apology. Everybody knows, though, that such an apology would be an admission of guilt and the vultures would soon descend. Damned if they do and damned if they don’t.
The sheer stupidity of those in the media never ceases to amaze me. There are currently warnings going out about a water-borne bacteria that’s spreading across Thailand. Apparently, it’s curly-shaped. What the hell is that piece of information for; so you can recognise it when you see it coming toward you? Do they think everybody walks about carrying microscopes? The best way to avoid any of these nasty diseases, though, is to stay at home. For extra super safety, barricade the doors and windows and attach the front and back doorknobs to the electricity mains to stop any cunt trying to get in. And, for God’s sake, watch out for big, curly bastards!
“Oh, shit! Thur’s somethin’ curly in that waater! Run – run fur yer fuckin’ lives!”
The reporters covering the D-Day commemorations were just as moronic. As the camera surveyed the veterans, the voice-over said that some of them were ‘in their nineties’. Er…it was 75 years ago and you had to be 18 to fight, so they’d all have to be at least 93! God almighty! Then again, maybe they were sending children over to fight the Nazis. A big gang of Proddies from Govan, no doubt, ashamed that their faithers were hiding in the shipyards.
“Sendin’ weans tae war? That’s abuse intit? Sellick must’ve been involved. Strip thur titles!”
And then there’s something I was just talking about to Der Fuhrer; non-sequiturs in adverts. Like that advert for claiming PPI, where the guy starts off, “Money? Who needs it?” before telling you to get your claim in quick. If I don’t need money, then why the fuck would I bother? Do ad agencies actually get paid to come up with this pish? My real bugbear, though, is this fucker, who turns up on the telly every March:
“Tax doesn’t have to be taxing!” he exclaims at the end of the advert. If you hadn’t seen the rest of it, you’d assume that he’d just explained how easy the whole thing is. Instead, though, he’s just warned everybody that if they don’t get their tax forms in on time, then they face a bloody great fine. After that, he smiles and delivers his line, “Tax doesn’t have to be taxing!” But you’ve just fucking said that it is, you stupid bastard!
The biggest surprise to me recently is how long it’s taken folk to realise what an arsehole Morrissey is. I keep reading people saying how much he seemed to care back in his Smiths days, when he used to speak for the underdog. Er…no he didn’t. He spoke for people like himself that were up their own arses. His songs might have sounded like they were all about being lonely and destitute but, if you really listened, they were about some prick thinking he’s better than everybody; more intelligent, more handsome etc. The reason why he’s lonely is due to the jealousy of them out there. The guy’s always been a prick and I found it hard to understand what the big deal was about him and the Smiths, which was just another jingly-jangly guitar band, like Haircut 100.
Charming man my arse!
The other day I looked out the kitchen window and spotted a huge cruise ship sitting in the middle of the Firth of Forth. I showed Der Fuhrer and she laughed, informing me that it was an island! Apparently, it had been there all the time and I hadn’t noticed. Imagine how smug I felt a couple of hours later when it had disappeared. I told her to phone the police and ask for the Missing Islands department. I won’t be letting Der Fuhrer forget that one in a hurry!
Finally, if you’re wondering why the paperback of my new book isn’t available yet, then wonder no more. I’ve had trouble galore trying to get the cover right, with the swines turning it down constantly. It’s currently ‘in review’ yet again. Hopefully, this time it’s okay and it’ll be available in the next couple of days. Meanwhile, there’s always the Kindle version…
Available here: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07SKV2DPS
“Awright, troops? Ah’ve heard thit aw these SNP wans ur oan aboot an independent Scotland again, sayin’ how wur gonny bae worse aff coz-y Brexit ‘n ‘at. Like any normal person, though, Ah don’t care if Ah end up starvin’ tae death. Wae cannae abandon Hur Majisty, kin wae? That’s the only hing thit maitters! An’ though Ah’m enjoyin’ aw the tributes tae D-Day ‘n ‘at, Ah cannae help but bae a wee bit annoyed. What aboot aw the brave men, like ma granda, thit toiled away in an overcrowded shipyerd?”
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