Tuesday, July 31, 2007


Well I don't fucking love him one bit

How arrogant of those Americans to name a television series: "Everybody loves Raymond". I don't love Raymond - I think Raymond is a cunt. All dumb and falling all over the place, with those dreadful parents, and that great big gumby of a brother, and a voice that makes me want to weep with irritation, and a gormless, moronic look to his face, which he probably can't help, but it is not aiding me in the loving of the man - ah fuck him, the tedious yank shite.

If Raymond and his family were hit by a meteorite, I would not care one bit, which is a long way from being a person who loves Raymond. And I bet if I ask you fuckers: "Do you love Raymond?" then you will either say: "Yes I do, Noreen, I love Raymond a great deal" Or "No, actually I think he is a cunt as well", or even "I am entirely indifferent to Raymond". Given that it isn't possible to say - even though a lot of people would like to believe it "Everybody loves God", I think there is a large amount of hubris on the parts of those American sitcom makers, and they should be set on fire and be sodomised by dildos with nails in. That is all.

Saturday, July 28, 2007


What a fucking stupid name. Give me strength.

I have to do this stuff at work about the environment. It's so dull I could sleep right now even thinking about it. I mean, I get that we should give a shite about the world we live in, I never used to, because the green propoganda was all: "Think of the legacy you leave your children" and I thought, "Fuck them, the little shites, I'll be dead". And people were all: "ooh global warming - that's great news for us in the North of Europe - warm the place up a bit" and it actually does the reverse - look at the fucking state of England at the moment and all those weirdos swimming around like fools, no it is worth looking after the planet, is what we are supposed to say. And I'll say it too - look after the planet, you fuckers. I don't like swimming in cold sewage - fuck that shite.

But could they ever sort out the terminology? Global warming need to change into "we heat up the earth and the ice melts and it makes too much sea". Or "Iceberg wrecking" or "Operation let's not go underwater". I am no soundbyte writer, I can't be fucked with that sort of thing - but I can't bear labels that sound clever but actually mean nothing at all -they are utterly moronic.

But worse, far, far worse than the tediously loosely named "global warming" is the "carbon footprint". God it makes me mad to type it. I hate that term - it's so twee and clever dicky, and again - it means shite all. When I hear the word carbon footprint do you know what I think of? I think of a man like Ghandi - one of those Yogis walking on hot coals, and when he gets off the hot coals the Yogi leaves soothy marks everywhere in the exact shape of his feet. It works also if the man isn't much of a Yogi and ends up cooking his feet on the hot coals in which case he would also leave a carbon footprint in the form of little bits of charred flesh.

Fuck off with the footprints - call it "Shitting on your environmental doorstep" or "Keep this up and you'll drown" or "The amount of damage that you personally inflict on our world with your greedy fucking consumption of stuff and lack of recycling". So - don't say it, all right? just turn the lights off and your monitor and don't use the cling film.

Wednesday, July 25, 2007


Earl Gay

I love tea, and I mean really love it. I drink gallons of the stuff all day long. But I can't fucking stand earl grey tea, it tastes like soap. I also hate the way idiot women with social aspirations will think it is clever or sophisticated to drink earl grey tea. It is not - it just shows an ability to drink soapy things and a fondness for gaiety.

The name is just beyond it, isn't it? I mean I get that an earl is some type of posh lord thing - but to me the namedoesn't make me think of castles and inbreeding but rather conjures up a vision of a great big leather man, who has gone slightly to seed, bulging over the sides of his hog, roaring up a motorway with a ridiculously large number of lanes in it - and the minute I think of my vision of Earl Grey - I immediately think of America, which is one of the worst places to have a cup of tea in the world. Americans are all about Lattes and Fuckaroundacinnos, which are frozen, and drizzled with syrups, the dirty fuckers. Tea is too ordinary for Americans, they like to make a meal of everything, those fat wanky bastards.

So there you have it. Don't drink earl grey tea or I will hunt you down and get fistfuls of damp tealeaves and fill your pants with them, and then I will take the teapot and nudge you every five seconds with the spout - which doesn't sound painful but I assure you after a few days of this (and I am, incredibly stubborn and persistent) you will go entirely insane and just be there, all mad and dribbling, rocking backwards and forwards on the floor, eyes rolling like a seal muttering "squaddie tea is good, earl grey tea is for fucking nonces". That is all

Monday, July 23, 2007


I don't feel at all sorry for him

"Poor Gordon Brown", said my insane mother. "What a start! Terrorism and then all of these dreadful floods". Poor my arse. I can't bear people who accept masses of responsibility and then whine about having to do a stroke of work, it shows such a mammoth lack of foresight. If I took the job of being a prime minister, which, by the way, I certainly fucking well would not, as I like to avoid responsibility at all costs, then I would accept that if I took a job like that on and the country was already at fucking war, the national health service had turned from just being lots of grubby workhouse-style hospitals and harassed alcoholic doctors, to a full-blown jihad training camp, and the country is known to be a rainy place - well then I would just get on with it and be pleased that my private secretaries - instead of sitting about whining "It's July - I'm bored, there's nothing to do", all sitting around twidling their pens, would actually be running around earning their keep. If Mr Brown had started the job last year, it was all "hosepipe bans" and people fainting in the cinema from the heat, and lots of venture capitalists wondering if there might be a market for air conditioning in England after all - totally as dull as fuck. This is a much better year for the spice.

The one sad thing is that the Americans got there first with the flooding business - all we fucking heard about for months were those tedious people crying and going on and on about levvys. It spoilt me - the New Orleans thing, now I have flood fatigue. Seriously - if I see another granny in a dinghy on the TV I think I will need a lie down. And as for people sleeping in schools - fuck away off with it. And looting - this lot aren't even looting. The best thing about floods is the looting. And what about those fucking smug journalists standing on a bit of high ground in a North Face Jacket pretending to look all concerned? Fuck off - the lot of you. Floods=shit

If I were Gordon Brown, I would try and engineer Scotch mountain Ben Nevis, or that large one in Wales to erupt and cover a town in lava. And then I would dig out all the grimacing petrified bodies and make a big fuck- off museum and charge people loads to look at the wizened dead people, and make a song and a dance about the opening of the museum, and get my PR bitches to cover the internet with pictures of me standing next to corpses, and then I would rebuild the town and rename it Brown Town and then people would be impressed - that's hitting the ground running.


Saturday, July 14, 2007


Dove off, you fat cunts

I hate Dove soap - it has a gay name, smells like old women and costs a fortune. The gypsies that make it claim that it moisturises the skin - and for a while I thought that this secret ingredient must be lard because the women on the television who jump around smelling of dove are great big fat whores - who have clearly gained weight by a double assault of ice cream orally, and a topical coating of that fucking bollocks fat-soap.

I was sure this was the case until some smart-arse put me straight. "No, stupid", she smirked. "It is their advertising campaign called the campaign for real beauty".

Are the people at Dove blind as well as thieving fucking cunts? Beauty? I don't see it. I see a bunch of fat birds in cheap La Senza undies cavorting. One of them even had the neck to say "I never thought I'd be in an advert" as she wobbled her rolls, which had been feebly painted with lardy fake tan. Well, darling, I am surprised as you are, I fucking am.

It isn't that I am fattist - it is fine to be fat - jog on and eat as much as you like. It is just that I want my models to earn their money. They need faces you wouldn't find on a checkout and the ability to starve themselves. I don't want overpaid loliipops eating - that isn't fair. They starve for cash - I eat, and don't get money for it. That is the way the world works. "No stupid", says smug bitch again. "The point is that they use models that people can identify with". Christ - you fucking spoilsports. I don't want to identify with some overweight slag in large pants - I want to see beautiful girls and pretend I am like them. And I want to think "if I use that dove crap - I will be beautiful" Not "here is exactly what a fat girl looks like with cheap fake tan on - a fat orange girl" Jesus Christ.

Wednesday, July 11, 2007


Water, Water, Yawny Cunt

Aliens don’t interest me at all. That is why I am not a scientologist, nor do I hang around in fields, frigging myself off about tractor tyre marks amongst the ears of corn. It also explains why I have never watched the X files with that ginger munter and the man with the loose mouth. In fact, I was glad when the challenger crashed because I think astronauts are even worse than the navy - which is saying something. Yes, I am perfectly busy enough getting my head around my own world, without feeling any need at all to worry about intergalactic relations.

That said, it is my duty to inform people who fly about wanting to see if there is life on Mars, that they are presumptuous idiots with their? “ooh, look Harold, there is water, therefore there is life” crap. Every time some fat-hatted rocket pilot takes a photo of a planet - a small patch of nothing gets taken for a small sea or a lake or a spring, and all the scientists get hysterically excited and start yapping about "Life on other planets". I mean, I am not a total monkey and I get that we humans need water to live - however I resent the idea that water is so desperately important for all life forms. I know that water is highly prized on this planet, but that is our problem - who is to say thatr other life forms are as interested in water as I am in tree bark.

And what is more, the Muslims, who make a great song and a dance about water- going on and on “clean” this, and ablutions that, and making everyone wash their nose - even they can do without water if required to, and purify themselves with sand instead. Now loads of these alien planets have rocks, which in turn grind down into sand which could be used by Muslims instead of water and Muslims are human life, so there might well also be another type of life form which not only uses sand for ablutions but also uses it to drink, if indeed this type of a being has a need to drink. Besides, I fucking hate humans who harp on about drinking water: "Ooh, I'm thirsty - isn't it hot - drink three litres a day, people", fuck you - you moronic liquid lovers. Just fucking drink your water and don't go on about it. I hope aliens don't drink at all - it would at least one thing in their favour, to mitigate the oddness.

And it irritates me how aliens always are assumed to look sufficiently human, that we can recognise them as man-like beings., how unimaginative and horribly discriminating of us to assume even that they are beings at all. Why cant aliens just be a feeling, rather than a visual, like a sense of awful panic ,or the taste of tar, or an overwhelming smell of earth. This whole human-looking alien thing makes me want to shit. That is all

Tuesday, July 03, 2007



I am not remotely squeamish about sex. However, I really cannot abide the term "fuckbuddy". What an absolutely appalling label to give a person. I get that it means "a friend, that you fuck", but really - isn't that what happens in sexual liaisons about 80 percent of the time? Very few people fuck perfect strangers, whom they do not like. No, normal route from first sight to bed games, is via a couple of drinks and a little chat, which, I would say, gets the shagabees on the way to being mates. Seal the deal with a ride or two and unless someone asks for some shit -on- chest action too early in the proceedings, or has some unfortunate affliction, like a lolling tongue, then the pair could cosily be described as friends. So there you have it- most human non-marital copulation for you: Friends - that you end up fucking. No need for job descriptions, just get your pants off.

Not only is Fuckbuddy an utterly redundant term, but the people who use it are just desperate, awful creations. Usually needy women, who have to catch the crumbs that fall from other women's tables - creeping around husband grabbing or taking it from some awful cunt at work, who calls people "babe". Fuckcunt, maybe, fuckbuddy - no. Or that cruel trick of Our Lord - the boring, hideous idiot, who likes quoting Monty Python, and snorts when he laughs, but has a magnificent, vast-girthed cock that women need to sit on, because it is a wonderful thing, but have to wear an iPod whilst doing so. Still not a fuckbuddy - a fuckmoron. Or what about those bare faced liars, who just don't, ever, fuck anyone - but need to make out they are getting the ride from somewhere, so invent some acquaintance who obliges when the urge takes? No, these losers also do not have the right to talk about fuckbuddies - rather fuckimaginaryfriends. God, it's desperate! Fuckbuddies and people who talk about their fuckbuddies- fuck off.


Monday, July 02, 2007


Terrorists almost certainly knackers

And what about the wheels used in the Glasgow airport attack? A four by four with calor gas bottles in the back? Fucking pikeys. This isn ‘t the caravan club, you cunts, it’s a fucking jihad. Jesus Christ. Wannabe Simon Weston gypsies- fuck off.

Sunday, July 01, 2007


Scottish tightwads an embarrassment to our nation

Did you see the rendering on the house the Glasgow airport terrorists rented? Appalling.

I know the Scots are fucking cunts, and one should not be surprised by any vicious act they perpetrate, but even I feel bad seeing the way those poor bombers had to live - and I am a fucking bitch. What’s wrong with some nice stone cladding, or a coat of whitewashed pebble dash? Get yourselves to B and Q, you fucking tight Jock Landlords, and sort your properties out! And don’t give me: “But they were bad people, those terrorists, they shouldn’t be treated fairly and given decent outside walls and a choice of finishes, they SHOULD live in ugly houses” - that’s how Guantanamo bay started.


This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?

Subscribe to Posts [Atom]