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Roy La Drue De La Drue |
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My Thoughts: What a Bloody Ham |
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Let me cut you a slice of Britain today. Go on. Gorge yourself up on the tremendous descent of the good and glorious lands.� |
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Britain today is a load of old guff.� But don't take my word for it, look at the facts.� This month, over 40% of youngsters were banged up for crime.� In the Toxteth borough where I grew up, we used to be thankful for any old crumbs of comfort that our mothers batched off with the morning dew.� Our fathers worked down the pits and never did a hard day's work in their lives.� This lot seem to think that 'tin mine' is some game that you can download off the internet, and national service is probably the next ringtone which they send to all their mates in the underage boozer.� Don't get me wrong, I'm all for technology - but please, let's have some bloody respect.� Is that too much to ask for? |
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Whimsical Fraternity |
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This mobile phone generation has never had to button up its own garters, and doesn't it just show.� I remember when my father took me for my first pint at the Flimsy Gudgeon on my 18th, and a bloody well experience it was too.� But try singing "For he's a jolly good fellow" with an alcopop shoved halfway down your gullet.� You can't, but that's what this lot call fun.� Generation X?� Try generation text.� This lot don't even know how good they've got it.� But try telling that to these bug-eyed wastrels and all you'll get is a cop in the mouth without so much as a two pound ha'penny ticket from Paddington to Houston on a Sunday afternoon.� I used to take that line to go and see my Grandmother, every week of the season.� But what happened when I phoned up the incompetent tyke manning the British Rail helpline last week?� Turns out it doesn't even exist - typical.� Capitalist pigs?� Try smitten paleontologists.� |
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Hoon of all trades |
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A little research a la Drue on the World Wide Web and I found something very interesting indeed.� Who's at the bottom of this so-called Butler report?� No surprises here: it's Geoff bloody Hoon.� Not content with publicly shifting the Hutton blame onto transport mogul Prescott, this fortified huckster thinks he can get in on the act.� Not likely, I say.� What a bloody Hoon.� Last time I looked, Cherie Blair was the long-suffering wife of the prime minister.� Now it turns out she's a barrister called Cherie Booth, practising in a chambers!� Stepford wives?� Too bloody right they are.� But will Tony listen to the people who (didn't ) vote him into power?� Get real.� He'll probably be sunning himself in the Caribbean.� And don't even think for a moment that health tycoon Melvyn Bragg will lift us out of this mess.� With this gang of Portillistas around, he's too busy investing his millions in tobacco.� |
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Arabian Nights?� Don't bet against it |
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Oh, and where do you think Tony Blair will be while most of the right-thinking British populace are in church on Christmas morn?� I wouldn't be half surprised if he shipped off Euan and his other unsuspecting progeny to Iraq, for an all expenses paid soiree hosted by George W. Bush and his Arab chums.� Try singing "O come all ye faithful" on the back of a hypodermic camel.� You can't.� But try telling that to this bunch of cocaine-toting Portillistas and all you'll get for your troubles is Gordon Brown's latest white paper on child tax rises shoved in your disgruntled visage.� Shame I use green toilet paper, else this lot might not even be able to tell the country from its elbow.� What a bloody pragmatist.� Tony Blair thinks we live in a meritocracy.� Mate, it's a plutocracy.� Power to the people?� Try mother of all evil.� What a bloody ham.� |
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