Fight the ban!
"56% say keep hunting!" "Fight discrimination! Fight the ban". Every day as I went to Northampton, I was bombarded by these slogans. I am a rural boy (no jokes please) and am completely against hunting. It is foul, cruel and not fun! But I digress.
1st Novemeber, 2004: I discover that my parents have been invited to a bonfire party (because of whom they work with does business with) and have got me and a friend a ticket. "Woo yay!" thinks I and invite aforementioned friend, thinking it would be a good night out.
9th November, 2004 2 days to go: My parents come home and tell me that this firework party has been put on by the Countryside Alliance (absolute twunts). "No worries", thinks I and go back to drinking
11th November the night: I arrive at the place to discover it teeming with countryside toffs and "Fight the ban!" etc posters. I was absolutely mortified but went in anyway. A few beers and food will calm me down. I scrounge off these posh twats, drinking their foul beer (tastes like liquidised horse-shit) and their skinny pig. It comes to the fireworks. Cue little man (probably a proletarian forced into doing the Bourgeoisie's dirty work. Workers of the world etc.) 'Twas a good display, i'll give them that. After firework show, people start to drift towards the bar again (why?!) and I notice a group of 6 youths about my age fucking over some signs. "Go them!" thinks I and me and friend proceed to fuck over one sign. Then another. Whilst doing the second sign in, I feel a tap on my shoulder and a "Will you come with us please lads."
"Shit" thinks I, knowing the game is up. I trudge wearily to the office area to sit quitely with my friend to wait further bollocking. My parents show up looking very dissapointed and the owner, who doesn't look dissimiler to Hermann Goering, comes storming in, his small head aglow with anger and proceeds to completely bollock us because we had done over some of his signs before fucking off to count his money for the seventh time in the hour. Escorted off the premises. No shame whatsoever. In fact, the only shame I felt was at being caught and missing my oppertunity to say to the fascist cunt "Do you want the 40p now or in the post for your signs?"

Ever since, my parents have reminded me about this incident to make me play better at Rugby. It fucking works, I can tell you!


Funny how those other people didn't get nabbed. Maybe the Fascists didn't have the SS with them on that night?

Length? I couldn't give a toss
(The_Reaper, Wed 30 Nov 2005, 16:32, Reply)