WWJD

I decided not to read my emails for a week and I've obviously been going through too many today, because I just saw a car with the registration V142 GRA and got stuck wondering why it wasn't attached to a Porsche Boxster or a Corvette and being driven by an old guy.

One email stood out, sent from a contact lurking deep within the bowels of England's home-grown fundies. It seems that I skimmed the Bible, because I obviously missed the elventh commandment:
"Though shalt taketh a pop the Muzzies whenever though getteth das chance."

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Subject: Mosque for London Olympics

Dear All,

Take a second to cast your vote in the Evening Standard online poll
to determine public opinion about whether a mega mosque should be
build for the Olympics.

The vote so far is 62% in favour. It looks like the Muslim
community is casting its vote in droves, and as usual the Christians
are burying their head in the sand.

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Yeah, I have a few comments here.

Take a second to cast your vote
No.

In the Evening Standard online poll
The Evening Standard? I thought that cunt Blair ran the country. This is even worse than I imagined. And people are taking online polls seriously now? I always figured they were intended as jokes.

whether a mega mosque should be build for the Olympics
It's spelt built. I bet you were reading up on Creationism during English lessons, weren't you?

It looks like the Muslim community is casting its vote in droves
The correct collective noun for "Muslim community" is Lalalalalalas, you thick fuck. Also, the sentence doesn't scan. Did you skip Bible School altogether?

and as usual the Christians are burying their head in the sand
That's one way to turn the other cheek, although it seems to still allow you to talk. By the way, many Christians have many heads, a single Christian (in this case, you) is a dick head. If only you'd spent less time being buggered by Father O'Phile (no relation) at Bible Camp...

I believe that God put Christians on this Earth to piss off the sane people. I believe that the religion of peace and love was founded purely to spread bile and venom across the world. I believe that if Jesus had been alive, he would have either voted in favour of a mosque being built, or not given a fuck either way (my personal leanings).

The only building Jesus would have voted against would surely be a Synagogue, unless he's forgotten about that whole crucifixion thing by now. And even then, he could just smite the shit out of it once it was built, which would be much cooler.

So, Christians. I suggest you vote for the mosque then pray for some hardcore smiting on those Godless fuckers. After all, WWJD?

More Fun With Referers 2

There really are some worrying people out there. And I thought I was sanity-challenged.

"why are russian girls asking for my bank details"
Son, this is capitalism at its finest. Ship her over, break down her iron curtain and then report her to immigration. Remember to wear four condoms because all sovs have filthy vaginae from all that chernobyl fall-out which will make Mr Zing-Wang fall off, or glow green or other weird shit like that.

"warning monkey faeces funny"
That really makes no sense at all. Who are you trying to warn? And how does that link to me? Is this some sort of a sting? Who are you?

"sexual fucking with scat"
Anyone surprised that this guy was German? Nope? Me neither. I am a little stunned to find a Kraut who is aware a kind of fucking that doesn't involve scat exists though.

"cheeseburger joker"
I'm starting to think that this is one person, hell-bent on making me lose the plot. So far he has attacked my mind from the following locations.

• UK
• US
• Canada
• Sweden
• Singapore
• Australia
• Colombia
• Israel
• Malaysia

It's not funny anymore, you fucking freak. Just stop.

My final thoughts on this matter.

I remember a time when a Panini was a sticker. I remember that the tabloids welcomed Jade Goody as a True Brit and one of ours. I remember a time when Michael Jackson was the King Of Pop rather than a serial child molesting lunatic mutant and when George Michael had to dodge flying knickers instead of boxers when he was performing.

But I don't recall a time when most people weren't fucktards who would be better used as rocket fuel to get me the hell off this fucking planet. So I should probably stop being surprised by these cockgnomists.

Things 1

PO'P NOTE: blah blah blah new blogger blah cunt blah blah. I'm not sure how many more of these I can be bothered to do and there's more pressing matters to hand.


Things People Hate But Shouldn't 1.

Hatred is a beautiful thing, anger the most truthful of emotions (there are those who will claim it is love. I wish them and their fucking lentils all the best together).

However, wasted ire is an offence to everything I hold dear. The outpourings of the common man, devoid of forethought, simply snarling at those who he has been told to nothing more than a chained rotweiller barking in the night.

People get it wrong on an astoundingly regular basis. This series will try to right some of these wrongs and get us all back on track. So let's get the ball rolling with...

Mobile Phones Whilst Driving

The government and police decided to nanny us along a little and ban this, the prelude to which involved convincing the general public that it was a huge danger to anyone within 20 miles of the ignorant bastard doing this. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.

I hear people moan about this and I shudder inside. Have these people never thought about the issue? Is driving whilst on the phone dangerous? Yes. Dangerous enough to become the vehicular equivalent of paedophilia? Car Kiddy Fiddling? No.

I was listening to Radio 4 a few days ago when I went into a deep trance during This Sceptered Isle. When I came to, I had driven into a bus-stop full of children, the noise I had been dimly aware of was their little bodies bouncing off my bodywork (quite badly dented as it happens). The police claimed I had been driving on the pavement for 53 miles and that I didn't even have the radio on. I guess that's an issue for the courts to decide.

I've dropped a lit cigarette on the back-seat of my car before. Try telling me that mobile phones are a dangerous distraction and I'll wave some shiny tin-foil in front of you before scouring your pockets for change whilst you stand, captured in childlike (read retarded) wonder.

I've even had arguing kids in there, shouting and cunting around (as kids will until you teach them who's boss by yanking on the handbrake and bouncing through a field at 90mph). Thank fuck I didn't get a call on my mobile at that point, otherwise I would have been putting them and myself at a frankly insane level of risk.

A highly valid thing to bitch about would be mobile phones - what a fucking abomination, but don't worry anyway - these mobile users will all be dead of head-canceritis sufferers within the next four days anyway. Or will they?

Mobile Phone Brain Bubbles

Let me start this complicated scientific explanation by stating that...bollocks. You dimwitted fuckers! How the fucking shit do you think a mobile phone is going to cook your head, when a microwave (bit bigger, isn't it) can't even cook your fucking dinner? Have you ever microwaved a tin of soup? Have you ever microwaved anything? Try it with a phone then, but I'd use it to call out for a curry first else you'll end up chewing your lips off.

You fucking idiots. I hope all those who hold their phones away from their heads and stick those fucking retarded signal improving jobbies on get beheaded by a passing Muslim. That'll fucking learn them to think before they panic. By all rights, most of Britain should have died of CJD ten years ago, Global Warming two years ago and Bird Flu last week. Strange that they didn't, isn't it?

Of course the hideous idea of CJD not being utter bullshit does occur. Can you imagine a country left with only lentil eaters and sandal-wearers left to rebuild it? Holy fuck, it would be bad enough to make me take a swim off Blackpool beach, where the water (as everyone knows) is composed entirely of raw sewage. Hmmm, hang on a minute...

Pikey At The Gates

P'OP NOTE: I upgraded to the new version of Blogger and now half of my old posts have turned into...long story short, this is an old post reviewed because Blogger is shit.


An open letter to the stupid ratshit cunt of a man that keeps kicking in my flat door and stealing useless dead letter junk mail from the post-boxes:

Dear Sir / Madam / Shitbag Pikey Fuckhole,

I must apologise for being forced to break the criminal genius / victim silence that traditionally exists in these situations, however I feel you have left me little recourse.

First, let me start by saying that I have enjoyed our brief acquaintance immensely. You have been the source of great amusement to myself and my flatmate over such recent break-ins as "Retard Pikey Screws Up Again" and "Inbreeding Prevents Learned Behaviour", but I feel the time has come to explain a few things.

You see, Shitrape, and I must apologise if Shitrape isn't your given name, but we do have yet to be formally introduced, so please feel free to substitute Shitrape with whatever name you wish. In fact, by all means write your full name and address on the bottom of this sheet of paper if you want to improve the accuracy of my future communication. However, I digress...

You see, Shitrape, in our country, post is traditionally delivered mid-morning. Your recent liasons with our front door have happened, exclusively, in that period we call "night". Whilst an amusing social comment on the state of our Royal Mail, your behaviour is at least borderline retarded. The mail has fucking gone, Einsteinique.

Frankly, I cannot imagine what you hope to achieve by stealing mail which is no longer present. Do you consider yourself an artist, making a bold statement about the duality of man? If so, please carry out your work elsewhere as you are now becoming tiresome and I do not care for art. Ask that fucking bitch Dali if you don't believe me.

If of course, your behaviour is a failed attempt at theft, then I must speak clearly. You are what can only be considered a Pikey, and an above (or below) averagely stupid Pikey at that. My dislike of your kind is measurable only by the most talented criminal psychologist. When this is added to my pathological distaste for stupidity, which you show what can only be described as a surfeit of, you really are in uncharted waters with the kind of death I wish you. I truly hope to see you roasted to death over rat and bile filled petrol, whilst I throw pieces of your dead children at you as quickly as the rabid dog can excrete them.

However, this is unlikely to occur naturally, or be of much appeal to you, so I offer you the following compromise: You stop being such a fucktard and stop trying to steal post which no one else wants. In return, I will make no further attempts to hunt you down and bring you to my special kind of "justice".

If you feel you cannot live with this offer, please indicate as such by breaking in one further time. I must warn you however, that at some point I will be waiting. Waiting with a mobile phone to call the police. Sorry, I jest.
Waiting with a Super Soaker filled with acid and a carving knife. Waiting with a Samurai sword. Waiting with a pool cue. Well, I'll spare the details for a later communiqué, but I'm sure you get the idea.

Actually, you won't get the idea. You are a retarded little shit of a man who is probably only coming here to get a rest from fucking the shit out of your sister who is also your pet rabbit, so I'll say this in words you'll understand some of:

Stay the fuck away from this fucking flat otherwise I am going to beat the shit out of you. You are a stupid, cock loving, dipshit who should stick to stealing from me the traditional way, via the DSS. Don't try to expand your horizons to crime as you are clearly not up to the task. Please die, or otherwise remove yourself from our once great gene-pool.

Yours,
Peter O'Phile

PO'P NOTE: Left in Peter O'Phile's post-box recently.

Hit Women, For Fun And Profit

P'OP NOTE: I upgraded to the new version of Blogger and now half of my old posts have turned into drafts. Seriously, the fucking dicks can't even get that right. And the spelling checker removes all the paragraphs for some reason (not that I ever spell anything wrong in the first place). Someone should be shot in the fucking eye for this travesty. Anyway, I'll try and repost the old shit a bit at a time until everything's back to normal. Or maybe I'll just delete it and fuck you all, who knows. Fuck.

Recent events have left me considering (not for the first time) our approach to physical violence against women. The sweeping "No, don't do it" view that our society tends to hold is clearly wrong. By clearly, I mean that I'll explain why later but if you really need to have this simple precept explained to you, I'd quite like to beat you with an Iron (or even Steel) bar.

So would a blanket "Yes, do it and use a Steel bar" approach be more appropriate? Yes. Clearly.

Reasons not to hit women:
They are the weaker sex.

Reasons not to hit anyone:
Violence is wrong.

Women are the weaker sex? I fucking guarantee that most women are not weaker than me. I'm 5'11" and 9 stone 5. I last went to a gym two years ago and all I did then was drink in the bar for six hours and stare at the over-muscled women whilst searching for things I had earlier hidden in my pockets.

Frankly, Stephen Hawking could kick my ass, and without any need to reverse time or meddle with entropy too. I'm talking a ten round, Queensbury Rules affair. He wouldn't even break into a sweat.

Violence is wrong? No it's not. I'm not even going to explain why that is fucking stupid. Anyone who says violence is wrong should be beaten around the ass for two hours until they die of ass-trauma. Then at their funeral, it should be mentioned that they have a closed coffin because they died of ass-trauma and everybody there should spit on their ashes. Violence is wrong? Pricks.

So why should people not fight women? As self-defence, the argument against hitting women is indefensible. If a woman chooses to take matters to a physical level, not hitting her back would be a sexist slur against her. Even not hitting her back as hard as possible (e.g. restraining her in a moderate fashion) would be a bigoted, vicious, non-attack on her sexual identity and could end up with you in prison.

Unprovoked violence is a more tricky one to prove unless you aren't a complete fucking retard. We've all laughed our lungs up at the sight of some guy being hit with a broken bottle for no reason, so it extends that adding women to this equation doubles the amount of humour in the world. Comic Relief proves year in, year out, that comedy saves ill and dying children, so doubling the amount of humour in the world is a great thing. In fact, if you don't randomly hit women then you are effectively killing African children and that makes you a racist. You evil little fuck.

So in conclusion, either hit women or go to Hell and burn for your evil, petty, hate crimes, and next time someone suggests hitting things with an Iron bar, mention that perhaps they should use Steel instead of being a complete fucking sheep. I'm so sick of people getting hit around the head with Iron bars. Dumb clichéd motherfuckers.

VD, Not For Me.

http://www.meish.org/vd

Whilst I agree with the sentiment entirely, the execution is more laboured than the elephant man's mother and nothing like as funny as there was potential for. Look at this one, for example:

What would have been wrong with the word "CUNT" written in big letters? You tried too hard, Meish, and you dropped the fucking ball. Or even "CUNTY CUNT" - simple, yet beautiful.

I suspect the writer suffers from a terrible sexual tension and will probably go on to be a serial rapist. Most likely once a year, on Valentine's Day, she (assumption) will join the hallowed ranks of the murder/rapist. But of course, that is just speculation.

PS, those fucking e-card things people use to avoid spending any money propping up the Royal Mail are for women and communists only.

PPS, did you know that St. Valentine was killed in a knife fight with a poodle when trying to win back the love of his life? Now there's romance.

Whose House? The Bank's House! (Part 2)

Well, where were we? Oh yes, I remember. Bananas: how gay is it gay to eat one? No wait, that's not right...

You've picked the house of your dreams and stolen enough money to buy it. Now brace yourself for some hideous negotiations with the seller that neither of you can really be bothered with. Would just putting the house on the market at the price you want to get for it be such a difficult concept? One estate agent told me specifically to knock 10% off the asking price...because they'd added the same* amount when they put the place on the market.

Yeah...there's something not quite right with that little system you've got there, Tom. Why don't we all stop fucking around, see if we can't get on with our lives instead of playing your little bid-up-bid-down game? You'll even save money on calculators, or evil abacuses, whatever it is you things use. Here's a little sum I did earlier. A £500 difference from £200'000? Not a percentage to be arguing over.

Joining the queue for me to line up against the wall come the time of reckoning are the mortgage bastards. I'm paying you, roughly, the price of the house to lend me some money. Ok, I can deal with that. Just about.

Would I like to pay the £750 application fee now, or later? Let's see, how about you pay the fucking fee out of the huge amount of cash you'll be making out of me? Don't fancy that? Well me neither, Howard.

I told the phone robot that I wouldn't pay if the application wasn't successful.

"Oh no, the fee is only payable if the application goes through ok."

It's not an "application fee" then, is it? It's more of a "bullshit tacked on because everybody does it so we can get away with it fee". Let's be honest here, just call it a "Customer Rape Charge". Or a "We Fucking Hate You, You Scrounging Loser Bastard Correction".

Now, who else can make this process any more hellish? There can't be many badly fitting pieces of jigsaw left, surely?

Well, just to round things off, we have the current occupiers, who are determined to piss me off to the point that I nail-bomb my own house while they sleep in it.

Do I want to buy the oven for £150. Now, I don't tend to notice much in these respects, but here's a quick summary:

Overall kitchen colour scheme and contents - white**.
Overall cooker colour scheme - black.

Price of a brand new equivalent cooker (in white or camp stainless steel) - £150.

I don't want the cooker. Do I want to buy the curtains? Well, unless you've bought exactly the same house somewhere else, they aren't going to fit, you fucking cretins. Why don't you act like sane people and leave the curtains where they are? And keep your greedy eyes off those floorboards while you're ripping up bits of lino to glue back together in the kitchen at your lovely new place.

My suggestion to enquire if they were leaving the kitchen sink or if I'd need to buy it got vetoed. With hindsight, it's for the best because it would probably backfire. Fortunately I have their forwarding address and a shedload of sulphuric acid (don't ask) sitting around just waiting for the right moment.

Oh, and if they don't take the cooker with them, I'll try and charge them for its disposal. It's the small victories that keep me from hating humans.


*Cynical bastards like myself would suspect "more".
**The actual colour is probably known as "pale inca sunrise", "felatio cream", "mottled war criminal hiding out in argentina's socks", or something like that in reality, but to my "uneducated" eyes, it's white.