Fred to Darling: "Fuck You"

You know what, if I had managed to negotiate a future income of 25 grand a week, fine wines, country houses and as many girls as my tongue could cope with¹ from a government that could not find its arse with both hands and a map let alone navigate a path to future prosperity I would most certainly be going "Fuck you" when said government came back and said "er, that deal we negotiated, it's really become politically embarrassing so would you mind handing that seventeen million quid back"

Look as you know I work for Banco di Haggis I'm not really meant to comment but let's say that should Sir Fred ever cross my path he'd be getting both nostrils set to "crispy" and not just because he's a fucking knight but he made a great place to work into a laughing stock and every time we get summoned to a manager's pow-wow we're all sat there going "ooooh fuck... here it comes"... and don't get me started on the sodding ABN merger. That said though if the government, B de H's major (only?) shareholder makes such an epic FAIL then one really cannot blame Fred The Shite for taking the cash and running whilst no doubt grinning like a loon at his good fortune.

Mind you we now have to watch NuLab throw good money after bad as they will no doubt in their socialist spite start a court case to get the cash back. When they do I really hope that Fred opens up and spills the whole story of the backroom deals and political chicanery that went on "that weekend" and thus hammers yet another nine incher into the coffin of Gordon the Monocular Cunt.


¹ (c) Ben Elton, back when he was funny.

Who Killed Stuart Lubbock?

All through yesterday thanks to the humungous plasma screen tellies on the wall at work (now 70% owned by all you lucky taxpayers out there) which are permanently tuned to Sky News for some unfathomable reason every time I looked up I was treated to the sorry sight of this stupid fucker.



This is Terry Lubbock who yesterday was sporting the t-shirt you see in the picture which reads "Who killed Stuart Lubbock?". I am assuming it says that because the guys down at PrintaShirt told him that "I am a homophobe who cannot accept the fact that my son was into taking massive quantities of drugs and enjoyed getting rogered roughly up the arse" would not fit, even on an XXL shirt.

OK so it kinda sucks that your kid died but what do you fucking expect when he took a cocktail of drink, ecstasy and enough Colombian marching powder to open an artificial ski-slope and then, after a few rounds of coked-up bottysex, fell into a swimming pool when everyone else was similarly in a haze of pharmaceutical oblivion and probably, therefore, not at their most attentive.

Actually come to think of it... how come I never get invited to that sort of party?

So even though the Essex Filth made a complete Horlicks of the investigation, my guess is Terry that who killed your son was himself.

But that's not good enough for you is it Tezza, no we need to keep blaming the nasty queers because your son wasn't a queer was he? No could not have been, look here's a picture of him in a morning suit getting married to something dressed in a marquee. He really could not have possibly been on the other bus and fantasized about pulling a train of these guys...



... not your perfect son, no way. Must have been murder. Course it must.

Still, nice little handout coming to you courtesy of the public purse. When some granny in Basildon gets her head cracked open by some scrote who nicks her pension money because there's no copper on the street because that copper's salary is in your back pocket I'm sure that won't cause you any lack of sleep. You cunt.

Introducing The Archko Volume

OK so I have fallen for this "Let Wikipedia Name Your Band" meme.


This is my little beat combo:

If The Archko Volume sounded like anything I recon it would be something like early Simple Minds meets Godspeed You Black Emperor but played on xylophones and ukuleles.

Have a go yourself... it's rather fun:

Go to Wikipedia. Hit “random” and the title of the first article you get is the
name of your band. Then go to “Random Quotations” and the last four or five
words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your imaginary band’s
album. Next, go to Flickr and click on “Explore the Last Seven Days” and the
third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.

Have a look at some more (done with better photoshoppery than I can muster!) here:
http://www.buzzfeed.com/expresident/the-best-of-wikipedia-names-your-band

Snap

Lt Ilea from the first "Star Trek" movie and Jade Fucking Goody... separated at birth?

OK sure it sucks that she's got cancer, it sucks that ANYONE gets cancer but please can we get a grip here? How many poor fuckers whose hair has fallen out and are spending three days out of seven honking up from the drugs they give you must be sick to the back teeth that all of a sudden everyone cares about cancer victims. They didn't get that cunttrumpet parasite Clifford smarming up to their hospital bed and doing exclusive deals for the papers did they and I'm fucking sure that they would all like to "care for their family when they are gone" as well.

No the people making all the fuss are the "Grieve By Proxy" crowd. You know the silly fucks who leave acres of teddies and balloons outside where some sprog has died in a suitably gruesome manner to make the six o' clock sodding news. The ones weeping and wailing after Diana decided that getting into a merc with a pissed frog and doing 180kph through Paris was a sodding great idea. "Oh you poor person," they probably go to our cancer victim "You must feel so close to Jade now." I tell you if anyone does that beat the shit out of them with your drip stand.

And I mean it's not as though we are about to lose anyone, you know, important or anything. I mean she's famous for being famous and fuck all else. The overall culture of the UK will actually go up once she's not wobbling over our TV schedule any more as she desperately tries to cash in yet again on being a thick cow on a reality TV show.

The New Witches

You know I recon that the paedophiles must be rubbing their hands together with utter glee at the moment as the great British public have found someone to hate even more than them. I am, of course, referring to bankers.

Yes the evil, nasty, corrupt, thieving bastards who have run the economy into the toilet and pocketed huge sums. Lots of finger wagging, tough talking and last week's kangaroo court political theatre courtesy of our lords and masters who were quite happy to take the corporation tax amounting to billions from these evil nasty bankers when their banks were making telephone number profits not to mention trousering 40% of those bonus payments. You didn't hear much clamouring from the fucking socialists then did you?

What pisses me right off is that now I work for the monocular haggis-fucking cunt* who "does not want to run a bank" we have all been told in no uncertain circumstances that there won't be a single penny in bonuses for the likes of code cutting dragons this year. Mind you that did make for a very brief annual appraisal because of course your bonus normally depends on your appraisal rating for the year.

"OK Dracunculus, so your appraisal for this year, lets see now."

"Doesn't really matter a fuck does it, there's no money."

"Er, fair point. Fancy a coffee"

"Sure, you're buying"

So why am I reading that Banco Di Haggis will be paying out massive bonuses? They certainly won't be to me. So which bugger is getting them? Better not be any of the cunts who turned my bank into a laughing stock, made me work the this fucking shower of lefties and mean that I am having to do my own fucking landscape gardening rather than getting a man in.

I suck at landscape gardening.







* Trouble with Clarkson is that he needs to ramp up his swearing content, "One Eyed Scottish idiot" really doesn't cut it when we are talking about Gordo.