Monday, 23 April 2012


When I was a lad, in days more innocent than those we inhabit today, practically everyone had a trannie, it was a plastic box which squawked pop music, in short a miniature wireless, which is what we called a radio in the days before Americanese was adopted by the Marxists of the urban inteligensia in order to disguise their posh origins and expensive educations with jargon and accents which would shrivel the balls in embarrassment of your average fine upstanding English man. At this point I should point out that this elegantly crafted bile has absolutely nothing to do with transistors, wirelesses or radios, and there is no way of putting this in a politically correct turn of phrase, not that I would in the first place you understand. Now, I am giving you this straight, the government is obsessed with ‘omos and I am not referring to the washing powder, I would not be surprised if the bent bastards did not start the Cabinet meeting with a gang bang instead of a prayer for heavenly guidance, which considering the cock up they manage to make of most things is not an activity they pursue with any perceptible vigour. Our current Government is obsessed with homophobia, to get ahead in this brave new world you have to be able to prove that you go out polishing knobs on a Saturday night on a regular basis. While the British Government can try to bully the native population into believing that buggery is the natural order of events, Joe Soap on the Clapham omnibus might take a little more convincing, not that anyone in North London gives a toss what he thinks, the working classes are for patronising not listening to. After the recent budget we realise that the Government is prone to getting itself into a hole, but there is no need to make a religion out of the activity? What is it about shirt lifting that so excites them? Is there something here that the rest of us are missing? Not content to badger those on the home front on the joys of turd burgling, the queens of Downing Street are turning their guns on the recipients of foreign aide, principally those nations of this Earth who chose to trade in the stability of British rule for life under a home grown kleptocracy. More that one of these ramshackle nations have been told that a continuance of aide is dependent on a more vigorous promotion of arse banditry. So much for international relations. The number one obsession in fairy land at the moment is gay marriage, especially in church, although why the insistence on the right to be spliced in the parish gospel hall looms so large in the utopian visions of the intelligentsia is beyond my ken. And as we all know, marriage was designed for the procreation of children so how could two blokes getting it together manage that? Talk about being up shit creek without a paddle. Technicalities apart, who would be the bride and who the groom and what would happen if both parties turned up at the altar in white frocks? neither willing to give way and ending up knocking seven bells out of each other, I pity the poor vicar. It is only time before Cameron decides on a physical monument to this queer policy. The North has it’s Angel of the North, I suppose it could be re-named the Nancy of Newcastle, but that would cause a bit of a kafuffle amongst the Geordies, better to have such an edifice down south. Alexandria had its Pharos, Dover could have it’s Phallus. Picture it, a gigantic bronze representation of a dick at the entrance to the harbour, they could call it the colossus of cock. There would have to be a suitable inscription, something along the lines of “Give me your poofs and illegal immigrants, yearning for a council house and the dole, we will cherish them, even if they wish to blow us to kingdom come”. It is a queer old world, that’s for sure and nothing is what it seems, Cameron is not a Conservative and I have heard a rumour that not only did he vote for Brown at the last election , but that Sam is actually a trannie. Not many people know that.

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