Monday, 6 April 2009

Porkers Produce Profits

Pizza companies in the UK have recorded an impressive profit despite the ongoing 'crunch'. The downturn in the economy has meant that people are eating out less and deciding to stay in and chow down on fat covered dough instead.

A noted scientist and xenophobe has stated that if this trend of eating such foods, which are high in saturated fat and drinking acidic, sugary, drinks continues then we are in serious danger of resembling "unholy bastard children of the Yanks and the Taffs".

When asked whether this was a real concern for the pizza industry, a wealthy Italian spokesman mentioned, between maniacal laughs:"As long as these chubby fucks can still muster the energy to pick up the phone with their greasy paws, we'll continue to shovel this shit down their fat necks."

Saturday, 4 April 2009

Right Royal Romance

Sigh. I guess on the flip side the Royals keep outdated modes of transport alive, like the horse and coach. They also give talentless hacks like Jilly Cooper something to write about and toffs somewhere to go with Polo. All Royal Families seem to have a joy of riding horses or vice versa in the case of Catherine the Great.

Charles also gives hope to every balding wing nut in the country with his marriage to Princess Diana. There is a feeling within this, quite rightly ostracised community, that they too can get it on with a shy beauty but learning from his mistakes and decide to talk to them and take them on holiday, just maybe not Paris.

The Royal Family seems able to keep the feet of celebrity firmly on the ground, Heather Mills and Steven Hawing aside. Otherwise glory seeking, rabidly attention seeking media whores will politely stand in line, bow/curtsey, uttering quiet pleasantries instead of drinking and swearing like a maniac as Princess Margaret has the floor on those occasions.

If it wasn’t for the Royal Family we would have a higher rate of unemployment in this country, forced to stand in the dole queue behind prima donnas like Judy Dench, Helen Mirren and Cate Blanchett.

There are associated jobs, which without such institutions such as the Royal family, would be obsolete such as being a butler. Such underlings would be living in bus stations for sure, helping vagrants pour their Blue Nun and meths. Without such a regal body willing to revel in imposing servitude, essentially bone idle slave traders, the domestic help market would surely be extinct like the dodo or Dodi.

Most importantly, the Queen gives my gran something to look forward to on Christmas day other than the relief of flatulence. The Queen’s Speech is like a slow death, which is what most pensioners can relate to in an instant. As soon as her majesty appears on screen it also reminds me it’s time to pull my own, paper, crown over my eyes and sleep until the New Year.

Tourists just love the Royal Family, lapping them up like crack fuelled, dehydrated, calves under bloated British bovine. They buy the hats, the flags, the t-shirts and take photographs more fervidly than paparazzi pursuing a limo into a tunnel, thus disseminating a stereotypical image of England around the world. This image is a lucrative one, meaning greater tourism and exports, helping to erect our limp economy.

Basically, unless there is a brave soul out there willing to massacre the Royals, we’re stuck with them. They’re part of our history and part of our immediate future, albeit as performing monkeys to entice gullible foreign trade.

I think the occasional racism is taken with a pinch of salt because it seems to be just ingrained within the family. If that wasn’t the case, we’d have been at war with China in the 80s after the Duke of Edinburgh’s incredible powers of subtlety.

Most of all, I like the way my gran looks at the TV, engrossed in the image of the Queen, someone with whom she has grown up with through the war period and subsequent years. She doesn’t listen to a word the wrinkled old tart is speaking of course. I think the Queen is just the one person my grandmother has seen, unfailing every year, almost since she was born. They’ve grown old together and the Queen symbolises life itself in perhaps a now unfamiliar world.

So give them some leeway, at least until my grandparents generation have passed, then it’s open season at Buckingham Palace. Stick a foxtail on each of their naked bodies and paint them red. Bind their wrists and ankles with gaffer tape and watch them bounce with panic into the woods. Load the shotguns, unleash the hounds and sound the bugles of a new era.

Thursday, 2 April 2009

Obama's wife has nothing on my Sarah!...

...ranted Gordon Brown recently or rather that should be, compared to Mrs Obama, Sarah Brown has nothing on!

Michelle Obama is the cover girl for the March edition of fashion magazine 'Vogue'. This will only be the second time an American First Lady has taken the place of a model on the front cover.
Not to miss a trick, Gordon Brown has insisted his wife Sarah be a cover girl too. 'Haggard MILFs' has been running for a few months now and has picked up a niche following. The average reader is said to be around 57 years of age, have one eye and be of Glaswegian origin.

Monday, 23 March 2009

Right Royal Revulsion

Now, I thought by now we had all got the message that racism was generally speaking, not good. Only last week though we were informed of the latest bit of playful racism spouted by Charlie and his ginger offspring. Ok, there’s some hereditary action here I suppose, with Prince Philip as a demented father and grandfather who’d make Hitler blush on occasion, so should we be surprised?

The Royal Family has become the last bastion for the committed racist outside of the BNP it seems sometimes. Apparently you can call someone ’Sooty’ then sweep it under the carpet and no one gets sued.

It’s all hypocrisy of course, as Jade Goody, temporary celebrity and self-styled porker was crucified over comments she spewed out which had racist connotations or at least they would have done if they could find timber strong enough. Not that it’s an excuse in the 21st century but the girl clearly had an education that started and ended with the Mr Men books. The Royals have no such excuse, always being educated at the finest establishments the country has to offer and when not feeling each other’s buttocks in dormitories they must’ve learnt something.

It’s all part of the bubble which the family live inside. They never get far without it catching up with them and drawing them back, much like in The Prisoner but they’re all escaped number twos. Prince Harry almost went to war but was pulled back on his baby harness because it was thought that he’d be singled out as a target. Good. He would’ve been the perfect decoy. Send Harry out into the desert with his beacon of ginger hair and draw fire; let the ‘boys’ get on with the random killing. We really missed a trick on that one. The only problem being that we would then have had to endure a minute’s silence every year and attempt to look solemn because someone who wears nazi uniforms for a jape and that we don’t really know died.

They just need to get out more. Charles notoriously talks to his plants and vegetables which no doubt improved relations between him and the Queen mum for a bit but it doesn’t do a lot for personal development.

Their role as ambassadors for this country always bemuses as well, as they can only relate to the inbred castles they scuttle around in, breeding like cockroaches and similar country’s infestations. We should send them out into space on a one-way ticket to greet any visiting aliens. This will but the little green men off visiting for good, which is a preferred scenario as Stephen Hawking believes that any visiting alien race would undoubtedly be unwelcome and be intent on dominating the world with their evil ways, possibly installing lots of staircases or something.

We could also do away with the National Anthem, which has to be one of the dullest songs ever penned. It’s the ditty you normally hear echoing round sports grounds by bald headed creatures that have just dragged their Doc Martins out of the primordial slime. I’d rather we pick any song by Celine Dione at random; it’s that bad. The verses blandly go on forever with only a deep, pained, intake of breath to punctuate each. In singing it, you feel like someone on their deathbed who has been refused the right to euthanasia.

The Queen seems harmless enough, I guess. So, God save the Queen but shoot a thunderbolt through the frontal cortex of the rest.

Monday, 9 February 2009

Just snow?!

Experts today have revealed a scientific fact to shock a nation after the recent weather onslaught. People have been informed that snow is actually just frozen precipitation and not a terraforming wonderland creator.
Apparently, one is not immediately transported to somewhere akin to Narnia. Especially, experts say, if you live somewhere like Dudley. Scientists have stated that you still live in a shithole, it's just got frozen water on it now. The general consensus is for people to "get over it, morons" and to stop playing in ice covered filth.

Tuesday, 3 February 2009

Glory Hole in the Wall

Dale Winton, host of "Hole in the Wall", amongst other televisual works of genius, has declared today his love of "big juicy tits". The 53 year old added, "There's nothing I like more than milking a massive pair of swollen tits". His off the cuff comment soon turned into an indepth reveal of the exact size and milking techniques preferred by the tanned tit tugger.

His Holiness, Pope Benedict XVI was said to be overjoyed at the news, confirming that he too enjoyed ogling "huge fat tits" quipping, "look but don't touch eh?" with a knowing wink. His Holy Father was said to be preparing a special celebrational service, right up to the point where Mr Winton asked "tits are the things under a cock right?".