Regular updates of sarcastic and irreverent nonsense.
Tag Archives: david cameron
Hello, dear subjects! I trust you are keeping well and taking good care of yourselves – after all, no-one else is going to bother doing it for you.
Anyway. The other day I was browsing the shelves of my local hardware store and came upon a delightful little stick with a fluffy thingy on the top. I was so impressed by it that I stuffed it up my skirt and walked briskly and purposefully towards the exit. The store is one of those daft local independent shops that can’t afford a security guard, so more fool them I say! Why should I bother putting my hard-earned pennies into the pot if I don’t have to?
It took me a good ten minutes to untangle the mop once I got back home. Lord only knows what hooks and splinters it was catching on, but my trusty old Swiss army penknife is perfect for getting in amongst all those troublesome nooks and crannies. Once I finally had my newly acquired mop standing tall in front of me, my attention was drawn to one particular little warning on the box: Not suitable for minors.
Which didn’t surprise me in the slightest. Given that they’re a bunch of lazy, dirty men who would down tools and go on strike simply because their pick axes are loose and those pet canaries they love so much are dropping like flies, it comes as no surprise that they would be reluctant to spend a few minutes cleaning their square-tiled linoleum kitchen floor. No doubt they see it as someone else’s job to supply them with clean water that is free from cholera and other nastiness. I tell you, that sort of attitude gets right on my shit.
As for the mop itself… well, I dipped it into a bucket of water but wasn’t too sure what I was supposed to be doing with it after that. I called in David Cameron to do the rest, as everyone is always telling me he’s good for that wishy-washy type of nonsense.
He’s bloody useless at everything else, that’s for sure.
Hello there fellow compatriots, D-Cam here! Or ‘Wazzock Chops’ as they used to call me back in my days at Eton Posh Boarding School for Posh Boys. So then, ham… I’ve never actually seen a slice of ham before so this is all very exciting and new for me. However, I do know that the common British peasant loves the stuff and I’m beginning to see why – just the sound of it is an inspiring bit of joyousness: ham, spam, spim, spom, bam. See? It just rolls off the tongue! It’s a perfect word and I can imagine someone using it to name their dog or even their favourite handkerchief. It even works as an insult. “No Smythe, you can’t go on the top bunk again! Sometimes you’re a real ham!”
Okay, let’s open the packet up. I’ll use a pair of tweezers just in case there’s a tropical spider trapped inside. Easy does it and… by golly! There’s SIX GOSHING SLICES OF THE STUFF! How did that happen? Has it mutated en route? Has it managed to breed with itself? It must be French as they’re bloody mad about having sex with themselves over there. I remember back in Eton there was a French chap who did it all the time and he had a torrid time at the hands of the prefects I tell you. They were always waking him up in the middle of the night to strip off his clothes and force him to do press ups in the middle of the courtyard. Still, it was all part of the character building. I thought it was a bit harsh when they threw his clothes into the river, but the one time I stuck up for him they threatened to revoke my midnight feast privileges; after earning the right to stockpile the red Fruit Pastilles there was no way was I going to let some Froggy rotter get in the way of that.
Right, the ham. Well, it’s kind of floppy and doesn’t seem to be doing anything at the moment. Most things that run on electricity come with a pre-fitted plug but I can’t find a lead of any kind in the packet. Hmm, it sits kind of nicely on my head actually. It’s nice and cool which would be good for a hot summers day. Ah, of course! That’s why there’s so many in each pack! You put one on your head and then another in your glass of Pimms to keep it cool as you lounge around on the sun deck.
Well, it’s top marks for ham from me. Join me next week as I uncover the exotic secrets of paperclips.
Hey ho, Anglo Saxy peeps. My name is Silvio Berlusconi and as real-life bona fide pervert I consider myself lucky to be an Italian. Not only do Italian ladies have very sexy faces but the police are corrupt and useless bastards, which mean I can do whatever. My favourite trick is to dress up as a park keeper and do a shuffle-walk around the park until I find a lonely lady on her lonesome. I will then say “Hello lonely lady, how are you?” and engage in short conversation whilst moving around so I can see down her top or in between the buttons of her blouse. I have experienced many fine examples of cleavage and side-boob due to my expertise in this area.
Usually I admire German people and race but their leader, Angela Merkel, looks like pig-dog. I would guess that her lady parts are very hairy and messy, which mean I get sick when flirting at EU meetings. EU meetings get very boring if I am sitting next to French boss Nicholas Sarkozy. I believe he is gay and that his strange face scares away all the children. His wife is jolly sexy though and when I make jokes with her she laughs like princess. I once called her a princess and she smiled at me. I then put my hand on her leg and she gave me look of death. I sent her flowers to say sorry she then send me text message saying to pisses off. I looked up French word ‘piscine’ in dictionary and it says is meaning swimming so I have bought lovely bathing suits for me and hers to go swimmings with some day.
I am off to England soon to says hello to posh twat Dave Cameron. There are some mighty fine ladies in Parliament Houses and I often stay hidden on balcony with binoculars to get good looks at fine ladies. I will carry tissue with me so that I can unzip my trouser and do what I call ‘cheesing the pizza’ if I see fine ladies in fine underwear. Many years ago I see Margaret Thatcher in underwear and I had to run to toilet to be sick.
I see now why she is called iron lady her lady parts look like steel wool.
Blonde bimbo Boris Johnson, elected Mayor of London, has stated his intentions to organise a night of “Fun and Scaletrix,” that “everyone, even the boring ones,” in the House of Commons is invited to. Johnson has often talked about how stale the atmosphere is in Parliament and that he wants to “Blow some air up the ladies’ skirts.” He said that Ed Miliband, leader of the Labour Party, “Looks like a dork,” but added he is welcome to “borrow some of my aftershave if he wants.”
Recognising that it is a time of austerity, Johnson has called upon MPs to contribute towards the cost of the evening. “I’m bringing my own BBQ that I got from Wilkinsons last year,” and pointed out that “Asda are doing a BOGOF on Heinz baked beans at the moment,” and that he would be “Happy to twos-up with anyone who is short of cash.”
Johnson has also thrown down the gauntlet to Prime Minister David Cameron and challenged him to a “Deathmatch game of Halo on the Xbox,” as he has been “practising online for months.” He described Deputy Prime Minister Nick Clegg as “Actually quite a laugh after a couple of beers,” and that his wife is “A lot of fun once she comes out of her shell.”
Entertainment suggestions included filling the old moat with water for skinny dipping, but Johnson wanted to make it clear that “Harriet Harman isn’t invited to that and neither is Anne Widdicombe.” Johnson was keen to book some celebrities and he is currently in talks with “Frank Bruno and also the short one from the The Krankies.”
“I might even do some wheelies on my bike if the night goes well.”