Has any said, W3tha yet.

( d.r._and_quinch when will you be famous?, Thu 10 Oct 2013, 12:00, Reply)

I think this sums it up
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4pCCdclkdLY
( wakeupandsmellthebacon, Thu 10 Oct 2013, 11:48, Reply)

I can't stand all the intolerant people.

( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Thu 10 Oct 2013, 11:30, 3 replies)

the reason you dislike britain is probably more to do with you rather than britain

( The Doveston haunted by the memory of his own amnesia, Thu 10 Oct 2013, 10:23, 2 replies)

(You Are Here)

( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Thu 10 Oct 2013, 10:19, 1 reply)

Peterborough.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 10 Oct 2013, 8:33, 3 replies)

The fact that Thatcher is dead! Look I did a poem last April:
As you will soon see - it's a crowning magnificence of literary genius...

Raping the corpse of Thatcher

I feel like I have been possessed
My the spirit of a Midlands miner
I take all my frustrations out
On Thatchers dry vagina.

I climb aboard her withered frame
That was once so full and busty
But now the Iron Lady's dead
She's become pretty rusty.

But still I squeeze my hard cock in
In one fast thrusting motion
For lubrication round her minge
I use embalming lotion.

But when I come, I scream and shout,
I'm pretty far from quiet.
The noise I make is just the same
That I made at the poll tax riot.

And I look down in calm relief,
She's made me loose my mess.
That sexy rigor mortis-bound
Decaying baroness.

That isn't all, her cunt's too wet
Just like a street in Venice
And so next time I want a fuck
I'll fuck her husband, Dennis.
(SigourneysBeaver took off and nuked the entire site from orbit on, Thu 10 Oct 2013, 7:24, 3 replies)

Spimf.
The prick.
( Fucking hell Jeff I am not a robot, Wed 9 Oct 2013, 21:58, 5 replies)

The prohibition of marijuana
and the way everyone ignores it
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Wed 9 Oct 2013, 21:56, 5 replies)

keep to the brief... keep to the brief
I like... proper chip shop chips; none of these stupid "fries" - thick cut,crispy outside and soft inside and greasy. This might be because I have been to the gym and come home and made chicken and rice....

I dont like .... the 'beer' - a rather noisome concoction of chemicals and flavourings which leaves my bowels in a state of distinct unrest (eyes and needles come to mind) - the germans and even the americans make much better beer.

There - it took me all week to get that far.
(gearanach #wankwankwank, Wed 9 Oct 2013, 21:39, 5 replies)

The North.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 9 Oct 2013, 16:37, 13 replies)

Morris Dancing
I love the fact that being from a country that spent lots of time wondering around the globe nicking things and fighting everyone that our national dance involves waving hankies and jangling bells.

I'd very much like to see the England Rugby team morris as a response to the haka next time we play NZ. It'll shit 'em right up.
( Draconacticus Reject shampoo. Demand real poo!, Wed 9 Oct 2013, 13:31, 18 replies)

You know what grinds my gears
people who post long lists of hateful snobbish wank and then put you on 2.0 because you pointed out it's a lot of hateful snobbish wank
(sittingduck Attention seeking, bullshitting fuck-knuckle, Wed 9 Oct 2013, 12:33, 14 replies)

fucking chavs. need a definition?
HKLP (holds knife like pen) scum.

Eating takeaway food on public transport

Chewing gum (admittedly I have chewed gum from time to time ergo – I am a peasant)

ASDA

Children with pierced ears

Eating crisps (see chewing gum)

Stella Artois

Restaurants with pictures of the food on their menu

Three quarter length trousers on blokes

ARGOS

Showing too much cleavage/thigh/leg or wandering around the town centre on a sunny day with no shirt

Hair ‘scrunchies’ worn around the wrist

‘Leisurewear’

Spitting

Sniffing

Lambrini

Driving around in a tarted up Nova playing drum and bass and saying ‘innit’ a lot

Football shirts

Love bites

Wearing your slippers to the shops

Asking people to remove their shoes in your house FUCK OFF this is not the 1700’s I do not have clods of fucking manure stuck to me

Smacking children

Smoking in public places (awaits flaming) and yes I used to smoke

Tracksuit bottoms tucked into socks just what is is that about

Impetigo

Tattoos

Hen nights – pissed up braying tarts, lovely

Eating in supermarket ‘canteens’

Rolling up the end of the toothpaste tubes – gladly this is a dying practice due to plastic tubes

Musical doorbells

Plastic fucking butterflies on the outside of your chavvy bastard house

Gold jewelry

Covers for phones ipods etc

Excessive Christmas decorations

Eating a donner kebab in the street

People who put harnesses on bull terriers

Eating at a Harvester ‘Pub’ - whats with the fucking wooden spoon nonsense. And i'll pay AFTER i've eaten thank you.

People who crunch ice cubes

Artex

Laminate flooring

‘settee’ it’s a sofa you fucking pleb

‘Spag Bol’

Monobloc where you used to have a lawn and now you park your Vauxhall on it

Vauxhalls

The Welsh

Fat people (see ASDA/ supermarket ‘canteens’)

Drinking from a can of lager on a train

Fluffy toys on the parcel shelf/dashboard

The vast majority of frozen food (except peas obviously)

Marrowfat peas

Americans

People who don’t like seafood – invariably scum

Bingo
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Wed 9 Oct 2013, 12:10, 45 replies)

fucking estate agents
www2.b3ta.com/host/creative/31673/1238394790/foxtonman.jpg
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Wed 9 Oct 2013, 12:01, 4 replies)

fucking call centres - pea
I didn’t bother learning to drive till I was 26. I had a Vauxhall Nova for the first year or so after I passed my test until it was pointed out to me that at my age I could probably get something with a bit more poke and not have to sell one of my kidneys to afford the insurance.

So I bought a bright red MK11 Toyota MR2, some say ‘girls car’ some say it’s 'a bit wanky' but as far as I was concerned it was great fun. Decent amount of power, rear wheel drive mid-engined two seater. Cool.

The insurance however was not as hassle free as I had hoped. I called a number of companies and was getting well pissed off after a while. One company took absolutely ages taking all manner of pedantic details only to drop my call after placing me on hold. A complete bloody waste of my time.

So I called them back.

“Hello RipOff BloodyRacket Insurance, Vapid Bint speaking how can I help you?”
“Yeah I’d like a quote please”
“Certainly can you tell me the make and model sir”
“Toyota MR2”
“Engine capacity sir”
“2 litre”
“Is that a two door sir?”
“Erm no, it’s got four”
“Sorry sir our system tells me that is a two door car sir”

(Why they bother asking you these questions when they already have the bloody details in ‘the system’ was one of the things that had been bugging me)

“No, it’s got four doors”
“And it’s definitely a Toyota MR2 sir? Are you sure it’s not a Celica”
“It’s an MR2 it’s got 4 doors. Anyway a Celica is a girl’s car”
“My husband drives a Celica sir”
“Is he a girl?”
“Sorry sir”
“Your husband – is he a girl?”
“Certainly not”
“Well he drives a girl’s car, anyway its definitely got four doors – my door, the other door, the boot door and the glove box door”

Silence…

“…erm we would regard that as a two door car sir”
“Fair enough, so do I get a discount for having less doors?”
“No, I doesn’t work that way. Have you made any modifications to the vehicle sir?”
“Yeah I put new mats in it”
“That’s not really a modification is it sir”
“Yes it is. The other ones were crap, they kept catching on my shoes”
“(sigh) have you made any modifications to the engine, exhaust, wheels or suspension sir?”
“Nope”
“Ok sir so...”
“Hang on, there’s that thing in the middle bit”
“The middle bit sir?”
“Yeah you know between the seats – next to the stick thing that’s not the gears”
“You mean the handbrake sir”
“Whatever”
“Can you describe the modification please sir”
“Well it’s got these lights on it”
“Yes sir…”
“And some dials”
“What’s it called sir?”
“It’s a flux capacitor”
“Can you spell that please?
“Sure – f l u x c a p a c i t o r”
“Sorry sir I’m not getting that on my system is it an in car entertainment device”
“Not really”
“What does it actually do sir?”
“It creates a temporary disruption in the space time continuum by exerting quantum effects on semi classical gravity thus subverting the chronological protection conjecture to permit non linear motion through time”
“Sorry”
“It’s a time machine”
CLICK…..
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Wed 9 Oct 2013, 11:59, 18 replies)

Germany.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 9 Oct 2013, 11:46, 2 replies)

A question so shit have a Pea
Dear England,

It has been some time since I last saw you so I thought I should drop you a line. It only seems like yesterday since I worked in the basement of Harrods selling nuts, who could believe it has been almost 20 years, and yet each day I spent working in the basement felt like 20 years, ironic isn’t it.

I hope you are keeping well. I have heard on the grape vine that you have had a few money worries; I don’t mean to say I told you so but I did warn you about taking banking advice from that shifty America, but, you never did listen.

Has the weather improved since I saw you last? I remember with no fondness the cold and dark days you gave us but, I do still smile when I remember the old lady in my street at Barons Court who would convince me that 3 degree’s was a pleasant day and shame me into not taking a coat. Do you think that Doctor who treated me for the influenza and whose bill I skipped out on is still looking for me?

If you see them about the place would please remember me to Lisa, Chelsea, Sarah, Lindsy, Chrissie, the other Sarah, Emma, Louise, Carol, Sam, Bec, Antonia, Helen, Joanne, the other Emma with the huge tits and Dianne. There are few others I can’t remember but, if you recognize them please pretend I remembered them too. By the way, if any of them are looking for me and have devilishly handsome 19 year old children with good teeth, tell you don’t know where I am.

I am still sorry for making that joke that the only a true Englishman is of Saxon decent, which you can tell from his red hair, and that all the others are basically French (although I still stand by my comment that the Normans ARE French). I am also sorry for suggesting you missed your last chance to become a great empire again 1942 when you rejected the introduction of German efficiency.

Things at home are still not back to normal I am afraid and we really do insist that you return the Ashes you cheated us out of recently, and please explain how the Rugby World Cup finished up in the hands of the French after we entrusted it to you for safe keeping! (Makes me think that my joke really does have some truth to it).

You will be pleased to know we dispatched Uncle Rupert to the United States as punishment but, he is still refusing to give back control of your media (he was always a bit of a bastard). And for crying out loud don’t send that smarmy wanker Wills back here again. If you don’t want him what makes you think we do?

All the folks at Ramsy Street and Summer Bay send their best regards but, there has been some quite mumbles that they are falling out of favor. Surely this can’t be true?!?

I will sign off now to take a swim in my private pool on my quarter acre block with a 2 story 4 bedroom house in my leafy suburb close to the city that I have bought with an average wage.

Lots of Love,

bad advice

PS Nick the bar man at the Cooggee Bay asks if you can remind the next set of gap year students that although not compulsory tipping is welcome

PPS Dad says you can keep Pete Andre’, he reckons he would happier with you

PPPS Uncle Warnie has lost his blow up cock and asks you if you can keep an eye out for it

ba
(bad_advice QOTW survivor from the first trollocost!, Wed 9 Oct 2013, 9:48, 19 replies)

Bloody London.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 9 Oct 2013, 9:24, 4 replies)

aesthetic atheist
Love the churches, hate Church.

I know its not the question but I'm indifferent to Charlotte Church.
(J H Christ began in Afrika ka ka ka ka, Wed 9 Oct 2013, 1:01, Reply)

Britain is alrite, its the people that annoy me

( SkUG >_O i got a couple of stitches in my eyeball... ow, Tue 8 Oct 2013, 23:26, Reply)

Bleht
Never met any english women I liked that much, excepting the temporary marriages between.
Leaving country to be with my long term Kiwi female mate, now progressed to sexy time 20 years later and hope to exit UK ASAP. UK, It's shite!
(Master_Slob UK minister for cultural appropriation., Tue 8 Oct 2013, 18:37, 31 replies)

your mum

(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Tue 8 Oct 2013, 14:31, 3 replies)

.
Love: The surprising space. Even where I live, in the most densely populated corner of this small, crowded country, it's easy to jump on a train or bus and find somewhere, quiet and green.
Fields that look the same as they did 200 years ago and woodlands that are mostly unchanged for the last 1000.

However, most of all, I would suggest a trip to the Scottish Highlands. It's a vast, mostly empty wilderness that has a beauty that rivals anywhere in the world. Globally speaking, it's on our doorstep, yet so few people make the effort. The kind of place where after a few days, you feel much more, well, 'balanced' is probably the word.
And as for the anti-English mentality that so many people down here believe is rife, total bollocks. I only met one prick up there and he was angry at the world, not an accent.

Oh, and the first time I walked into a pub to see an entire wall of whisky behind the bar... I nearly crashed me yoghurt truck!


Hate: The Tories. With a burning, unyielding, energy-giving fury. Fuck them. Don't get me wrong, most of the 'alternatives' can get fucked too, but they will always have a special ink-black place in my affections.
( sir_spicious2000 Crap I've watched: www.filmplop.blogspot.com/, Tue 8 Oct 2013, 14:15, 32 replies)

Sceptred a'igh'
Britannia has crafted a dazzlingly polite smile of resignation that she flashes to the world, to mask the flat and sour nostalgia served by time and the dust of the family estate. As a young and dynamic country she travelled the world and brought half of it back in her suitcase; her star waxed benevolent and her truths were drunk by nations with the same regularity and application as the cod liver oil that built the character of each generation. The numbing warmth of these memories keeps the chills from her toes as she tries hard to find her place in this home of cultural awareness where her concerned citizens have placed her. Sometimes it can be a confusing experience.

How else do you explain a country whose culinary heritage has plucked leaves from every national cookery book in the world, but where 90% of the food outlets in its capital city sell only sandwiches and coffee?

How else do you defuse the identity confusion of a country that used to have one of the foremost manufacturing and industrial cultures in the world, and then made an almost about-turn to a tertiary economy, before spilling over its borders in the search of cheaper labour and outsourcing its new service sector, leaving behind only those who outsource the outsourced and the custodians who administer and trade in the houses and cars now built by imported foreign labour?

Can any sense be made of a country that, notwithstanding successive shifts from the right wing to the left wing and back again over the past thirty years, has expressed no executive or ideological regret for promoting the dream of individual personal enrichment as a vehicle for consolidating an overweening Benthamite social structure that would cement and exemplify its professed tenets of diversity and opportunity, while at the same time vacuuming the contributions of the gainfully employed into the Charybdis of taxation and pissing them into an endless pit of interlarded middle management?

As Britannia dozes off fitfully in front of the community-sponsored three-bar heater, I see the light soften and shine in her eyes, and travel with her to her globetrotting and saucy youth, where I slip under the bedclothes against her dreaming frame and prod her with my erection, just to hear her shift in her sleep and murmur “Sorry...”.
( .Yeti. El amor en los tiempos del cólera, Tue 8 Oct 2013, 14:07, 6 replies)

goodbuy tommeh robingson, youre light shines on, no surendor.

( Infidel , shit and wrong, Tue 8 Oct 2013, 14:03, 2 replies)

The Cornish National Liberation Army.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Tue 8 Oct 2013, 11:32, 13 replies)

Darkies.

( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Tue 8 Oct 2013, 11:31, 10 replies)

For me, it was 7/7 that made me proud to be British.
We don't often do "community" in London. Not in the centre anyway. But on 7/7, people were banding together in search of locations they'd only ever gone to by tube, helping each other with directions - so far, so like any other country.

What - possibly for the first time in my life - filled me with pride at Britishness was the pub I stopped off at on my long walk home.

1) It was full
2) Everyone was debating where they should've let the bombs off to bring London to a more successful standstill.

Some people reckon you shouldn't make light of events like this, but I think you definitely should, and that's why it failed in its goal of terrorising us. Back on public transport the next day, along with most others.
( prince-igor si tacuisses, philosophus mansisses, Tue 8 Oct 2013, 11:17, 29 replies)