Sunday, 4 December 2011



Roger said...

Wonderful....and most revealing.

the noblest prospect said...

Goodness, sergeant, what's that under your kilt? It's gruesome!

Aye, yer Majesty. An' if ye keep on lookin' it'll gruesome mair.

call me ishmael said...

I know one of these types - like the pair with the beercan- and he insists that he is doing no more than dressing in his national costume. That he is a cross-dressing, woman-hating, closet queen exhibitionist probably only enters his mind in the awful hungover dawn, when sobriety threatens. He and his succession of poor battered women will be a burden on the NHS, social services and the courts as long as there is breath in his tattoed pigeon chest.

I sometimes think of giving him a good beating, it is the only intervention he will comprehend

the noblest prospect said...

I hardly see what the fancy dress has to do with it, really.

The Rooney9-shirted thug two streets away charged with beating his missus following England's South African humiliation last summer. Or the Paki taxi driver across the road recently done along with his brother for the Honour beating of his seventeen-year-old.

They all need a fuckin hard punch in the mouth, Mr Smith, no?

Woman on a Raft said...

I hope it doesn't frighten the pandas. They've already had some bastard nutter playing bagpipes at them.

What are these people thinking of? What sense is a panda supposed to make of the sound of menace.

call me ishmael said...

It matters, mr tnp, only inasmuch as these crossdressers are adding flashing to their wife-beating, their swaggering, cock-waving conceit triumphing over any sense of dignity which we might expect among grown men. Cunts, all of them. And they have the impertinence to claim they represent Scotland. There's a pipe band locally and the proportion of convicted nonces amongst its ranks,not to mention the number of happy wifebeaters - Och, well, if she'd a had the puir man's dinner ready he wouldnae had tae whack her aboot so much, d'ye ken, and him comin' hame blootered, after a hard day - would make your hair stand on end.

It is no worse, of course than the noble Sikh, Jaghinder, stabbing his daughter to death or the Pakistani moneylender, Raj, grooming young girls on the streets of Bradford. It's just so much more impertinent. And the kiltie thing lends an inviolability to offenders who would otherwise be nicked, forthwith, and put on the nonces' register.

You try sitting in a public place, drinking, with your knob out, in broad daylight and see what happens. That's what I'm saying. It's one law for the inebriate, wifebeating crossdresser and another one for the rest of us.

I like the pipes, mrs woar, en masse, but a walk around Edinburgh, where there is one piper on every corner, pour les touristes, can strain my affection.

As for flying pandas around the world for people to gawp at, well, these people need killing, it is unfuckingspeakable. Guantanamo for wildlife.

mongoose said...

A country is not a proper country, Mr I, until it has its very own pair of pandas. Was it not in The Bruce's manifesto?