Sgt Ross Wimp, I mean Kemp, 2nd battalion,
Queen's Own NancyBoys Regt, (The Gay EastEnders)
Sergeant Ross, a recovering spousal abuse victim, led a daring attack on the costume department of skymadeupnewsandfilth, resulting in him being able to nancy-about on camera like a proper he-man, which he isn't, fuck no, not by a long way. 'Swot ya do, innit, if yer from the EastEnd, like my character is, apples an' pears, apples an' pears. They wuz like family, them geezers out there, in the oil camps, woddever, end-of, 'ang abaht, whachoolookinat, and so we hadda geddem out, like, geddit saw-tid. Nah, dunmenchunit, all in a day's work, fer a NancyBoy soldier.
That bizness, wiv Rebekka, my ex, right slag she was an' no mistake, knocked seven kindsa TomTit outa me, she did, busted me 'Ampsteads right up, mince pies was black an blue for weeks after an' fuck me, me 'Enry 'Alls was aching like a bastard. I tell ya, I was off down the ole Frog an Toad right sharpish, back into the regiment, where a man can be 'isself, dress-up like an 'ero and 'ang about wiv 'is mates, playin' soldiers.
Next week Ross stars in another gritty cockumentary, in which he goes head to cock, I mean head, with some of America's toughest gangsters/prisoners/cops/female impersonators. And watch out for Ross's starring role in Take It Like A Man, The Raoul Moat Story, coming soon to a skymadeupnewsandfilth channel near you.
if you are a gay man with muscles and a shiny, bald head and have been affected by any of the issues in this piece, contact www.gedditsawtid.com and talk to other, like-minded closet fairies.
11 comments:
Yuur 'avvin a larf, aintcha? It were a daring mission and no mistake Mary Poppins, what wiv flying them 'ellycopters that we don't ave anymore into a barren, remote desert where no fucking natives live, not like they'd do anything even if they did and extracate those brave tax dodging British citizens guv'nor. Cud ave got sand in the mince pies or even worse mechanical failure but we've all had lessons from Ray Mears so cud probably have survived a couple ov days without me jellied eels and foie gras canapes, like wot eye is used to. Ginger slapper? Shagged her for money and career - ere - leave it out etc etc ad infinitum.
Billy was on Marr this morning praising FCO staff? Hmm...i'm in the wrong job - bollock juggling leads to commendation? Surely not?
I have mixed feelings, mr dtp, about expats, it's ok people working abroad, it's just when they come all this I was clever, me, and got out of Britain and you;'re all stupid shite on the blogs and message boards that I want to wish them all a well-deserved and merry headchopping. I often feel that I've deserted Decency's barricades, and I'm only in Scotland, best part of England; how layabouts on the Costa del Prat dare comment is a mystery to me.
I hope that when the medals are dished-out our unsung heroes are duly honoured and that Mr Clegg, who has so distinguished himself, bravely, indeed with great sang froid, holidaying abroad, as though nothing was happening, is at the top of the list, the Order of the Empty Red Folder at the very least. They are a laughing stock, aren't they, it's not just me?
Well, they certainly are making a great effort at rendering this country a laughing stock.
It's their faces that get me. Snotty's face told the truth about his character - moribund, hangdog, stubborn beyond sense - as did Blair's - sharp, cunning and strangely immobile. And here are these baby faces, Cameron, Hague and Osborne, pretending to be grownups, the emptiness of their minds written on the smooth contours of their well-fed visages. Mental and moral infants have taken over the asylum.
It's the hands with Cameron, that get me, all that, whaddayacallit, when he's pushing his manicured hands together and they don't meet, as though he was an engineer or a carpenter, talking about forces and stresses, when in fact he's a vicious and empty, one-trick pony, that's all he does, takes his jacket off and makes recondite gestures with his hands. When he says, imperiously, sternly, his stupid, inbred face all pursed-up and wet-lipped, like a noncing geography teacher about to flog some boy's arse, that the he and the world are watching, I wonder who it is, in the world, he thinks gives a flying fuck about anything he says.
A couple of things should give Cameron pause for thought. First, that he couldn't do what Fine Gael have just done and eviscerate the fuckers who spent all the money. And second, that unless he is very careful to pin the blame, he will be gone and done in a couple or three years time. All the pain and destruction will be written in the book against his name. Wee Maggie we'll have to call him.
The things in his favour are the continued stupidity of the 'Shooters. eg-the-latest Jeremy Hunt announcing to the world what the SAS were about to be about. And Millitwat. My cat wouldn't vote for Millitwat, who is BTW just as much an inbred, political-class insider bastard as is his opponent. A plague on both their houses.
There is a parallel, Kemp and Cameron, a worthless tosser hanging around the big boys, talking tough, good for fuck all, pussywhipped and congenitally dumbfounded, hammy and maladroit; supported, indulged and sponsored by Rupert, for the time being.
I have witnessed more than one interviewer asking Hague or Cameron if "we" should be considering military action against Libya. Leaving aside the fact that our hardware consists now of a couple of inflatables and some frisbees, the arrogance implicit there, that "we" can or should still rap naughty wogs over the knuckles with a bit of gunboat diplomacy, makes me think we are living, according to the media'a lights, in some kind of historical theme park where the British say "Bah" and the wogs say "We so sorry massah".
And of course should Ahmed retaliate with a dirty bomb or two, in the West End, it would be a crime against civilisation. I am fairly sure that these recent events mark the denoument of Uncle Sam's sinister and belligerent empire, in all it's forms, NATO, the 800 military bases, its global snooping, the assassination by CIA operatives in Pakistan have turned things a bit sour to say the least and in a way the revolutions divert attention from what is a very hot situation; I am sure, also, that that part of the States not bamboozled by skymadeupnewsandfilth in the form of Fox News will be looking enviously at the streets of Egypt and Libya.
Turns out, also, that Andy Windsor has been cosying-up to a wealthy nonce, Mandelstein and Blair are in hiding, frightened of any Libya questions, the phone-tapping stew is bubbling away nicely, inflation is up, unemployment is up, fuel prices are not far from unaffordable - everybody, like your correspondent, will be driving a Smart Car, or walking, with consequent HM revenue shortfalls - they can't even revise the growth figure upwards; maybe, mr ptb, a war, or a pretend war is just what the shitheads need to take people's minds off how fucked things are.
A song for nos jours, Mr I.
We need not a Velvet or Jasmine Revolution but an Armitage Shanks Revolution where we flush all the politico/media/ dosh juggler turds down the pan.
We are Zevonites here, mr m, and to the manor born.
I regret, mr yardarm, that we are done revolting, children, now, of Cruelty TeeVee.
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