Cunt Chelsea cunt Chelsea cunt Chelsea cunt. That diving cunt Drogba and that own goaling cunt Riise now mean that, probably, Manchester United are the only ones capable of stopping the Zombie's relentless charge towards buying up the Champion's League. If it comes to a Man U/Chelsea final in Moscow I think the only way the rest of us will come out on top is if the whole pack of cunts freeze to death and shatter each other in the tackle, because I really don't think having to watch Ronaldo and Rooney smug around the Premiership next season is only slightly preferrable to having to watch those insufferable tossers Terry and Lampard do it. Mug around, that is, not get a bit friendly in the showers. What a terrible image that is.
Still, after all that bollocks yesterday, I needed something to cheer me up, and usually when I need something obscenely silly to give me a smile when I need it most, I can always rely on the Welsh to do something so completely barmy that all my troubles seem to melt away into the image of a drunken Darth Vader battering some poor sod with a crutch. You really couldn't make it up. Honestly, I've mocked major world events, poked fun at Presidential candidates and raged against erm... regional strife, but for my favourite story of all time you really can't beat two mad taffies playing Star Wars. The bin-liner clad Sith Lord's defence was that he couldn't remember the incident as he had been drunk, and that "alcohol was ruining his life" - mate, if you live the sort of existence where you're jumping over fences in a bin-liner and a Darth Vader mask twatting Jedis, you've got a better, more exciting life than most people probably hope to have at 27, an age by which time most people are marooned in offices 7 hours a day, 5 days a week and spend their evenings rooted to the box watching Norweigan twats fuck up at the football. Even the judge got in on the act - ""I hope the force will soon be with him." said District Judge Andrew Shaw, while issuing an arrest warrant. Classic. And people wonder why I love the Welsh?
Our English maniacs are a far more dull and scary breed, unlike the fun-loving Welsh nutters. Take for example this story - Satan was driving my Astra? Please. That's just not trying. Now I'm not up on my Christian demonology, but I'm pretty sure that the infernal Lord of Darkness and Ruler of All Hell has slightly more important issues to be attending to than driving some daffy tart's hatchback into some children, however an honourable cause that might be. Admittedly 41-year-old women on their way to the shops aren't the usual sort of people to be caught speeding at 70 miles an hour through residential red lights, but I reckon it's more likely to be some sort of mechanical failure or just a bad day with the kids rather than the attentions of the dastardly Red Horned One.
Still, it's one of those great excuses we've gotten used to over the last few months. Do something heinous for no good explainable reason? Come up with some completely bonkers story to explain it all away and you'll probably get away with it. Stabbed someone fifty-seven times in the face? Did it to themselves, m'lud. Found defiling a corpse in your driveway at four in the morning? She were just there, guv. Caught speeding on the M4 while yakking on your mobile and slapping your children? The wicked work of Beelzebub. I only embezzled that fortune because it came to me in a dream, now give me my ASBO and I'll be on my way. To a padded cell, admittedly, but on my way nonetheless, and I bet they've got better nosh than the Scrubs.
Not sure I'd like the electrodes, though.
Still, maybe these guys could benefit from a nice convenient psychosis. Is it just me that's sick and tired of every single detail of this case being announced in the media? Yes they're all very guilty, yes they're very bad people, but we honestly don't need to know the time, colour and consistency any time any of them goes for a shit. It's getting beyond a joke. This story seems to revolve around some footage of the suspects standing around outside a kebab shop, and while I expect that is the least important piece of evidence anyone has seen in their entire fucking lives, the BBC - and, surprise surprise, the Daily Express - have been reporting it like it's the most important development in the field of criminal justice since fingerprinting. Bunch of twentysomething blokes standing about outside a kebab shop, sounds like me on a friday night, except I'm usually inside the kebab shop getting Asad to make me one of his delicious doner meat pizzas with extra chillis. Yum. If those new restaurant immigration laws coming into force take Asad and his delicious Italian-via-Turkish-Cypriot cuisine away, I'm going to riot. Just a word of warning. The good news is I tire pretty quickly without my hit of heart-attack dead goat in cheese, so it probably wouldn't go on longer than an afternoon.
Oh, and some German bloke who flew sorties over Britain during World War 2 has apologised for bombing Bath, and so he bloody should - have you seen the state of it recently? Anyway, it's Your Say Thursday tomorrow, which promises to be it's usual bout of tragic comedy. Hope you lot like the new layout, it took fucking ages, not least because I'm shit at editing that whole HTML... thing and repeatedly buggered up my own template. It wasn't my fault though, Satan was controlling my hands, making me thrash them against the keys in a torrent of gibberish that was almost, but not completely unlike the special kind of gibberish that makes the internet work.
And Chelsea are still cunts.
Goodnight.
Still, after all that bollocks yesterday, I needed something to cheer me up, and usually when I need something obscenely silly to give me a smile when I need it most, I can always rely on the Welsh to do something so completely barmy that all my troubles seem to melt away into the image of a drunken Darth Vader battering some poor sod with a crutch. You really couldn't make it up. Honestly, I've mocked major world events, poked fun at Presidential candidates and raged against erm... regional strife, but for my favourite story of all time you really can't beat two mad taffies playing Star Wars. The bin-liner clad Sith Lord's defence was that he couldn't remember the incident as he had been drunk, and that "alcohol was ruining his life" - mate, if you live the sort of existence where you're jumping over fences in a bin-liner and a Darth Vader mask twatting Jedis, you've got a better, more exciting life than most people probably hope to have at 27, an age by which time most people are marooned in offices 7 hours a day, 5 days a week and spend their evenings rooted to the box watching Norweigan twats fuck up at the football. Even the judge got in on the act - ""I hope the force will soon be with him." said District Judge Andrew Shaw, while issuing an arrest warrant. Classic. And people wonder why I love the Welsh?
Our English maniacs are a far more dull and scary breed, unlike the fun-loving Welsh nutters. Take for example this story - Satan was driving my Astra? Please. That's just not trying. Now I'm not up on my Christian demonology, but I'm pretty sure that the infernal Lord of Darkness and Ruler of All Hell has slightly more important issues to be attending to than driving some daffy tart's hatchback into some children, however an honourable cause that might be. Admittedly 41-year-old women on their way to the shops aren't the usual sort of people to be caught speeding at 70 miles an hour through residential red lights, but I reckon it's more likely to be some sort of mechanical failure or just a bad day with the kids rather than the attentions of the dastardly Red Horned One.
Still, it's one of those great excuses we've gotten used to over the last few months. Do something heinous for no good explainable reason? Come up with some completely bonkers story to explain it all away and you'll probably get away with it. Stabbed someone fifty-seven times in the face? Did it to themselves, m'lud. Found defiling a corpse in your driveway at four in the morning? She were just there, guv. Caught speeding on the M4 while yakking on your mobile and slapping your children? The wicked work of Beelzebub. I only embezzled that fortune because it came to me in a dream, now give me my ASBO and I'll be on my way. To a padded cell, admittedly, but on my way nonetheless, and I bet they've got better nosh than the Scrubs.
Not sure I'd like the electrodes, though.
Still, maybe these guys could benefit from a nice convenient psychosis. Is it just me that's sick and tired of every single detail of this case being announced in the media? Yes they're all very guilty, yes they're very bad people, but we honestly don't need to know the time, colour and consistency any time any of them goes for a shit. It's getting beyond a joke. This story seems to revolve around some footage of the suspects standing around outside a kebab shop, and while I expect that is the least important piece of evidence anyone has seen in their entire fucking lives, the BBC - and, surprise surprise, the Daily Express - have been reporting it like it's the most important development in the field of criminal justice since fingerprinting. Bunch of twentysomething blokes standing about outside a kebab shop, sounds like me on a friday night, except I'm usually inside the kebab shop getting Asad to make me one of his delicious doner meat pizzas with extra chillis. Yum. If those new restaurant immigration laws coming into force take Asad and his delicious Italian-via-Turkish-Cypriot cuisine away, I'm going to riot. Just a word of warning. The good news is I tire pretty quickly without my hit of heart-attack dead goat in cheese, so it probably wouldn't go on longer than an afternoon.
Oh, and some German bloke who flew sorties over Britain during World War 2 has apologised for bombing Bath, and so he bloody should - have you seen the state of it recently? Anyway, it's Your Say Thursday tomorrow, which promises to be it's usual bout of tragic comedy. Hope you lot like the new layout, it took fucking ages, not least because I'm shit at editing that whole HTML... thing and repeatedly buggered up my own template. It wasn't my fault though, Satan was controlling my hands, making me thrash them against the keys in a torrent of gibberish that was almost, but not completely unlike the special kind of gibberish that makes the internet work.
And Chelsea are still cunts.
Goodnight.
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