Wednesday, March 19, 2008
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Stanislav's Rants on Guido (www.order-order.com) plus whatever else tickles my fancy.
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About Me
- Plumbers Assistant
- This blog is a compilation of Stanislav's Rants as they appear on Guido. It is neither operated nor sanctioned by him. If you don't like it, don't come back.
LAST EXIT TO DOWNING STREET
Screeching queens, ladymen and big Jock Nancies reducing each other to tears in Downing Street, that's the presbyterianism we know and love, more please.
That's Britishness, you bitch. That's mah vaaahl-ewes, learned from mah Da, up in Heaven. That's mah vision and the British people will judge me on mah vision for them. Never mind them all being thrown oot a their hooses, living in cardboard boxes, begging crumbs from Russian gangsters, gunned down by Ian Bendover's Community Pacification Units. Never mind them having their ID tattooed on their heids, never mind their weans being criminalised in the womb; never mind me confiscating their savings to give to the bankers. Never mind me jailing the coroners. It's values that count. And visions. And my vision is for a country where the prime minister's bitches, Mr Livermore, do exactly as they're told.
And ye cannae have a country like that without a properly resourced legislature. To this end I am proposing that under new anti-terrorism legislation no-one can know how much MPs earn, if that's the right word, nor how much they rightly claim in very necessary expenses. This is information which could be helpful to enemies within and without, but mostly within and gay members on all sides of the hoose will vote for its rapid passage, so to speak, and then get back to implementing my vision for a gay Britain. A public information team consisting of the cheap slag, Mr Stephen Pound, will tour the Newswank studio explaining to mah guid friend, Mr Wark, how it is best for all the important men in the country to be gay. It may take some time but under my permanent leadership we will stamp out the scourge of heterosexuality which so disfigures our society. Some puir men, I understand even going through the ritual of a sham marriage to a horrible female in order to gain acceptance. I love you all. But the men and the schoolchildren especially.
No wonder the country's bleeding, gang-fucked up the arse, eh, by criminal degenerates? Is it really true that at the centre of government one misshapen, phony, snot-eating, old queen - representing the country - takes serious advice from a screaming pansy who bursts into tears when he gets a bollocking? If this is true then the hundred best outgays, worshipped in the Guardian for their wit and industry and, knowing Michael Kneepads White, their yummy cocks, had all better jump back in the closet, in case a big, one-eyed butch Jock monster comes along on his rocking horse and shouts at them. Sing, lads, if you're glad to be gay.
Talking of butch boys, former long-term unemployed Geordie pothead, Alan Milburn, bizarrely a former health secretary, now employed full-time by PharmaCorp, turned up in the house the other day, to speak to the budget, just as though he was a proper MP and not an infamous public sector whore. Sat there with his feet up on the benches, setting a good example to yoof, Milburn espoused his get-rich-quick socialist values; everybody, it seems, can fiddle their expenses, lie about their "marriage" and then flog off contacts they made while in public service. All you gotta do, bonny lad, is join the NewLabour GayBullyboy tendency - founders Peter Brazilianson, Alistair depressed about his sexuality Campbell, Miranda Blair and Nancy Brown - and become aspirational (trans: a spiv, a greedy bastard; a lowlife; Alan Milburn; Toilets Maguire; HM Government etc., ad nauseum)
Don't know if Mr Milburn ever worked or if his cv is like the Earl Kinnock's, a bit of rabble-rousing lecturing at the WEA, a period in a bookshop and then the golden bonds of harsh servitude in the workers' party, shitting in the faces of the poor while drinking champagne and snorting coke but looking at this vain, smug, greedy Geordie tosser, sprawling all over the green benches of our legislature - as if to say he'd scratch Gordon's eyes out - one thought, not for the first time, Up against the wall, motherfucker.
Government by bullying, tantrum, conspiracy, money-laundering, fraud, theft, corruption, deception, blackmail and hissy fit. Is it any worse to be shafted by a closet gay mafia than a straight one ? it would be nice to find out; eleven years of vicious, simpering, I couldn't do anything wrong, dishonest, backstabbing queenery is more than any country should tolerate. Come out Gordon, you horrible snot-eating freak and bring your gang of sinecured hysterics with you.