Good evening and welcome to Question Time on the PBC with me, the nations's senior hereditary turdcaster, I mean broadcaster.
Tonight we are coming to you from some shithole, Boston, I think it is, no, not that one, this one, the one in Lincolnshire, where our audience consists of people carefully selected by our team of enforcers, I mean researchers, to properly represent a docile, compliant and largely stupid cross-section of people who, well, who just want to be on telly and who won't dare upset our guests and who will, best of all, laugh enthusiastically as I chide and tease our guests, pretending that I give a fuck about anything. Or, for that matter, that they do.
And let me welcome our guests. First and fresh from HM Prison, is Ms Vicky Price. It is, of course, widely presumed that criminals should not profit from their crimes but this only applies to ordinary criminals and not, of course, how could it, to people living inside the charmed circle of celebrity.
Ms Price lied to her family, to the police, to the press, to the country and to the courts. It can rightly be said that she lied to everybody she could have lied to. But I can assure you that she will not tell any lies here, tonight, as she faces some tough questions not about her crimes or her slag of a husband and his manlady lover. Her husband, the right honourable Chris Fuck, should you wish to see him, too, is probably on the PBC's flagship bore-a-thon, Newsnight, with Sir Jeremy Parsnip.
Prisoner in Cell Block H, Vicky Dildo
I promise not to tell the truth, the whole truth or any part of the truth.
So help me Money.
Our next guess has been described as a mediocre, in fact a pisspoor poet and everyone's favourite token Rastaman. We have him on now and again and the PBC lets him make the odd rubbish programme about black, shall we say, issues. He is, of course, national treasure, Benjamin Wotsaname.
Ya, mon, I an I is celebratin' de harrival fifty year ago inna Birmingham of me parents, Gardenia and Delroy Wotsaname an tinkin' of writin' some poem an' ting, ya know, righteous an' stuff. An' d'ting is, mon, it don't have to rhyme, just as long as it is some profound shit, right, 'bout racism an' stuff. Don't even 'ave to mek no sense. Me could talk all night, mon, honest me could........
That'll be the drugs, won't it, the, er, Ganja,
I believe you people call it.......
Ya, mon, de sacred 'erb..........
Our next guest needs little introduction from me. He has been described variously as an ugly, whining git; a gale force blast of bad breath, a one-man reincarnation of national socialism, it is said that to vote for him is to time-travel backwards seventy-five years. He is a rabble-rousing, tub-thumping, racist moron......
I'm not racist David, as well you know. I just want the wogs, like our friend here, no offence, to fuck off back where they come from, stop stealing our jobs and houses and give our own young people a chance.
(cheers, applause, boos.)
Do you know we spend three hundred million trillion pounds a day on the European Union, three hundred million trillion pounds...????????? That's a fact, that is. And I want it to stop.
(cheers, boos, applause.)
Naaah, mon, is fuckery, dat, not even Him Imperial Majesty, Emperor Haillie Selassie-I, Lion of Judah have dat much money, is not dat much money in de whole world. Tree hundred million trillion wotsanames? Naah, mon, off y'fuckin' head is what. Not even Jah, himself, 'ave tree 'undred woddever it is.
I'm telling you, Sambo, I've got the statistics. You want statistics, I'll give you statistics, Four billion Central European benefits scroungers are living in Milton Keynes alone. And that's a fact.
And now our next guest is Conservative defence minister Mrs Anna Doobry, formerly, like myself, off the telly, now, according to many commentators, off her head.
Oi, turdbreath, yes you, Farage, you, the one in the Herman Munster mask, yes, you, I don't like your tone, you sound like a fucking Nazi, you shouldn't talk to the nigger like that, that's the job of decent Tories. Jail's the place for you, Farage. And that's a fact.
What she actually said was:
"I don't like your tone, Mr Farage. You do not talk facts. You talk prejudice. That’s what you talk. You scaremonger and you put fear in people’s hearts.
Look, times are tough. We know that. But when times are tough, there’s a danger and history tells us when things are not good, you turn to the stranger and you blame them.
And you shouldn’t. That is wrong. And I’m proud of our country’s history and I’m proyd that people want to come here."
A pox on all of them's what I say but overall I prefer Soubry's Stranger rhetoric to Farage's smug, Heil Nigel garbage, the man's a cunt. Soubry's outburst was infinitely preferable, also, to Theresa May's neo-Nazi HateVan project, now abandoned, parked-up in Shame's carpark
The big story for me wasn't the empty-headed, boring, Fuck-Not-Him-Again Farage versus some tough old Tory tottie nor was it the utter vacuity of Benjamin Wotsaname or even the irrelevance of Miliband's shadow attorney general, whatever her name was, it was the platform given to Mrs Huhne.
You'd think that the institution which has become the spiritual home of paedophilia and executive larceny would be a little bit careful about soliciting the paid opinions of such long-standing and determined criminals as the Huhnes. But then, no, you wouldn't, they get away with anything, down there in MediaMinster.
Make sure you pay your license fee, because they can catch you dead easy. Easy as a DeeJay buggering a nine-year-old.
"I don't like your tone, Mr Farage. You do not talk facts. You talk prejudice. That’s what you talk. You scaremonger and you put fear in people’s hearts.
Look, times are tough. We know that. But when times are tough, there’s a danger and history tells us when things are not good, you turn to the stranger and you blame them.
And you shouldn’t. That is wrong. And I’m proud of our country’s history and I’m proyd that people want to come here."
A pox on all of them's what I say but overall I prefer Soubry's Stranger rhetoric to Farage's smug, Heil Nigel garbage, the man's a cunt. Soubry's outburst was infinitely preferable, also, to Theresa May's neo-Nazi HateVan project, now abandoned, parked-up in Shame's carpark
The big story for me wasn't the empty-headed, boring, Fuck-Not-Him-Again Farage versus some tough old Tory tottie nor was it the utter vacuity of Benjamin Wotsaname or even the irrelevance of Miliband's shadow attorney general, whatever her name was, it was the platform given to Mrs Huhne.
You'd think that the institution which has become the spiritual home of paedophilia and executive larceny would be a little bit careful about soliciting the paid opinions of such long-standing and determined criminals as the Huhnes. But then, no, you wouldn't, they get away with anything, down there in MediaMinster.
Make sure you pay your license fee, because they can catch you dead easy. Easy as a DeeJay buggering a nine-year-old.
10 comments:
Mr Dick Puddlecote does a blog and I still reserve nostalgic bent (err.. is that right?) for part of the Conservative Party but fuck no, no, not Soubry. I swear to God she's in the wrong party - unsure as to where she should be but likely 'I know best, go fuck yourself' party that would accomodate her - probably Lib Dem. She's Tony Banks - give her a gig just to shut the fuck up - not worked, maybe!
She banned menthol cigarettes, not her personally like but the Blighty submission, and i'm just left redundant - that the Tory party remains the closest thing to administrative Liberty that the world has ever seen gets this fuck promoted disturbs to the point of acceptance of much vicious sleight.
A good chum has taken regional UKIP and we talk endlessly about consequence but it's got to a point of where do you get your kicks? I'm still only a 40 year old kid but I thought thr Tory Party had something going for it, I was misguided. Plus the incumbent's a tool.
Fuck it - if we didn't have fake democracy, you'd have to invent it. Have accidently done Yorkshire UKIP and there's 1 guy who's comedy gold. Ah, bollox. vox populii, vox opionated little shit.
I don't know about any of that, mr dtp, but I do read Redneck Central - the Mail and the Filth-O-graph comment boards - and although they arethere overwhelming the Ukippers are, nationally speaking, a tiny handful and I must say, they are a tiny handful of, like the Scottish Tribesmen Party, nutters, racists and fruitcakes.
Of course the Eurocracy is a problem, of course unlimited immigration is a problem but Farage will solve neither, he cannot even, for fucks sake, organise a party conference, too busy outside, smoking, or in the bar getting pissed polishing up his man of the people shit. Has he any idea of how few people actually go to the pub, how few people smoke. Man's a fucking idiot, riding a half-inch high wave of other idiots.
All these Tory totties are shite, this Esther bint, whoever she is, Lousie Minge, as was, rubbish all of them. But at least they don't have a Hitler complex, luike Nige the Fag.
I genuinely don't think the Tory Party is what it claims to be. Matthew D'ancona (sp) has penned a book about them and apart from being the editor of a national publication and being unable to fucking write paints a picture of cunts. I read McBride's book too and it reads well, boy's got word skills.
These whatever they are Tories are nothing of the sort and if UKIP ends careers then that's just the way it is. Liberty is a decent muse and it ain't dirty to adore Her. Ain't going all Old Hoborn shit but quite upset. Labour was authoritarian and so are these cunts.
Not overly happy, dude
Farage shit it for me when I found out he had made over 2 million quid in pay and perks from the EU, ostensibly from talking about how evil it and its politicians are.
Another multi-millionaire, hypocritical politician.
Is there no one even quarter decent in public life?
Vincent.
No, mr vincent, there isn't. I have been saying it, sadly, for over twenty years now - There are no good men in public, life; how could there be? All is compromised to career.
About his own graft, Farage just blustered that Not a Penny went into his own pocket, it all went to The Party. Sort of thing they used to say in the Kremlin, cunt. And the Reichstag.
Mansion tax vetoed because of neighbour donors. There's a stat that Chelsea's more valuable than Scotland! As long as the fucks stay away from Yorkshire they can play their games.
When did politicians have to be young? I like 'em old and angry, not some cunt on a mission. Fuck that - this is Blighty, not some fucking pedalo. There is an existential threat Mr Smith and it's fucking done. That racism still dominates the civil service is by the fucking by - sooner or later that rigidity will be flexed and it's Shami Chakrabbati all over the show.
Banning menthol fags, pphhhwww...I though gay marriage was a joke but I musn't have laughed loud enough. 2013 and menthol fags, ,not really any where to go. Golf ofcourse! Golf in Phillipeans with 200 mph winds, no, no, maybe not.
Mike Slackson - not an officer in whom this particular old sweat has any great degree of faith.
There is no more sad a sight than an officer who reserves his best ordnance for when all hostilities have ceased. When I listened to his BBC Dimbleby lecture my recurring wish was that he had said all this when his opinion may have counted for something. Not impressed.
mr ishmael, i trust you obtained mr buzzdenial's explicit prior consent before you most crudely slanged-up his persona as a convenient cultural blackdrop against which you have seen fit to highlight the ghastly-pale glaring spectre of contemporary indigenous repro-racism?
and boiy-the-way, e's not a perennial pot-puffer, or so oi'm led to believe, although some of his best friends are loik.
How dare he not be a toker, how very dare he?
yes, mr red zephyrline - as mr ishmael has so indignantly indicated, mr buzzdeniah is an unbrainweeded disgrace to decent upstanding stereotypes the world-over.
or maybe he just doesn't like sharing his stash.
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