Does ‘All Coppers Are Bastards’ Go In Non Fiction Or Fiction, Barbara?



Every other day my newspaper has a story where some errant child runs up a bill of hundreds, sometimes thousands, buying add-ons for ‘free’ games on his parent’s iPad. Seemingly, the four hundred ‘ARE YOU SURE?’ messages, and the need to input the owner’s username and password, didn’t deter those enterprising little tykes. And when the dust settles, Mum and Dad go straight to Apple, claiming fraud and negligence, and demanding their money back. Now, I’m not saying that we’re too soft on our kids; but this would have never happened to Fred and Rose West. Some food for thought, maybe.

In other child-app related news, a seventeen year old boy has created an app that summarises news headlines (or some shit, I haven’t done the research), and Yahoo have apparently bought it off him for £19 million. While I am 100% sure that this figure was just made up on the spot by the coke-addled editor of my morning free paper, one sort of wonders how this sort of thing could happen. Could we all do this? Is there gold in them there hills for anyone with a bit of clever and a knack for new ideas? Well, apparently he developed the app ‘with the help of a Venture Capitalist from Hong Kong‘. Oh right, one of those guys. I meet guys like that every day in the veg aisle at Tesco. He also had help from Stephen Fry, Yoko Ono and ASHTON KUTCHER. After that, I stopped reading, because now I know this kid is no ordinary 17 year old. This kid’s dad probably owns Philip Morris, and is drinking buddies with the guy who exports most of the Bouncing Betty land mines which kill babies in Sierra Leone. I haven’t done the research, but that’s probably 100% accurate.

Speaking of cunts, our library now has its own policemen. I shit you not. I don’t know how many suspects these guys accidentally raped or killed to get busted down to Library Detail (possibly by an angry black captain with a moustache), but this is their life now. This is how they serve.

Being a Library Policeman basically involves walking around and checking if people using the electrical sockets to charge their laptops or phones have paid a pound to do so. That is literally their job. The fucking Electricity Police. And of course, being policemen, they still walk around like the cockiest fuckers in existence; growling alpha-like at anyone who looks a bit ethnic.

A man came in and had a conversation with one of the Book Bobbies today, and I learned a lot by eavesdropping. Apparently, before Captain Plugsocket arrived, the library was awash with crime. Oh yeah, there were ‘people eating sandwiches’ in plain fucking sight of the staff. And ‘druggies’ using the place to sleep. No proof offered of said druggies’ actual narcotic use, of course. They were just people asleep in the daytime. And that’s a druggie, if you happen to be a copper. Or basically anyone who isn’t white. Those people don’t even have to fall asleep. They’re still druggies. He said a few more things, but the gist was he was there to ‘stop people taking the piss’.

The other man had his own story, of course. He ‘used to be a teacher’. He isn’t now, because ‘kids today are fucking impossible. They’re always telling you they know their rights. It’s not like in our day.’ Yes, those evil little fuckers. Not only do they have RIGHTS. Some of the little cunts have the cheek to ACTUALLY KNOW THEM. Not like in his day, eh? When teachers could punch you in the fucking face for forgetting your homework. Them were the good old days all right. Anyone a bit brown in the class was called ‘Inky’, ten year olds had their own Smoking Room, and if a girl was good at maths, you could call her a lesbian.

But no, kids today? Can’t hit them. Can’t abuse their human rights. Can’t even waterboard them without Social Services sticking their oar in. This is why he left the profession. At least I think that’s what he said. I’d fallen asleep by that point.



Let’s Just Get One Thing Straight


If you find Emma Watson attractive, you are a paedophile. There’s no ‘ooh’ or ‘aah’ or ‘but I just’ about it. You’re a nonce. I don’t care after which Harry Potter film you told yourself it was acceptable; it’s all the same. You want to do penis in a baby’s vajayjay. She has looked exactly the same for the past ten years (well, naked anyway), so all your talk of ‘Oh, but she models for Burberry now!’ is redundant. If you find fashion models attractive, you are also a paedophile. Or Terry Richardson. Which is practically the same thing. (note from my lawyers: it’s only a 99% possibility that it’s exactly the same thing.)

Now, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with being a paedophile, per se; although God knows the Daily Mail, the BBC, and ‘society’ would like you to believe so (not the Pope though; he thinks you’re awesome). I’m just saying stop lying to yourself; you like infant vadge, errrryday. Even if you’ve never seen the films, and have only read the books; you still find Hermione sexy, and that’s enough. And book paedoness is even worse than film/photo paedoness, because Sun readers are doubly suspicious of you.

Same with that thing where you think the girl from Little Miss Sunshine gave ‘a great performance, beyond her years’. Not as good as the performance your cock gave during the stripping scene, when you rewatched it later, after everyone else had gone to bed. Thought no one saw you? God saw you, and that’s what counts.

Did you like Kirsten Dunst in Interview With The Vampire? Of course you did, you kiddy-fiddling bastard. Natalie Portman in Leon? You are the King of the Paedos, now that Savile is in Hell. You pulled the sword out of the stone to claim your birthright. And by ‘the stone’, I meant ‘Elle Fanning’, and by ‘the sword’, i meant ‘your knob’, and by ‘pulled out’, I meant ‘shot your steaming man-muck all over your laptop screen while watching I Am Sam.

Panic Room? Paedo. Bugsy Malone? Multi-Paedo. Look Who’s Talking Too? You’re such a paedo you didn’t even get through the opening credits, and that was just some sperms and some eggs. That’s a whole new kind of paedoing; that’s pre-emptive noncing.

Selena Gomez is legal now. Not in your wank-bank she isn’t. You’re having some wank-nostalgia with her, even as we speak. Miley Cyrus? SAME THING. Christian Bale in Empire of the Sun? EWWWW. You’re the worst kind of paedophile. You’re a gaydophile. Just like Michael Jackson probably was (note from my lawyers: meh, he’s dead)

When you watched the video for Stacy’s Mom by the Fountains of Wayne, did you find yourself thinking ‘Well, Stacy’s Mom is all right I suppose; but Stacy’s kind of hotter! LOL!’ And did you then try and qualify it by adding that you were speaking in the context of imagining yourself in the role of the young boy in the video, not speaking for your actual grown up self? Yeah, you and 40 million other paedos on Youtube, son.

What I’m trying to say here is, there was nothing much in the paper.


Something, something, all grown up, something something, big talents
Something, something, all grown up, something something, big talents

Remember that time when there was no internet, and stuff used to happen, and they’d talk about it on the radio? And then they’d go into the street and ask people for their ‘opinions’, and then put them on the local news? And if it was your town, you’d hear some fucking fishwife from down the road blethering on about ‘Darkies’ and ‘Immigrants’ and ‘Political correctness gone mad’, and you’d cringe and feel like moving to another town? That totally still happens. Even more now, with 24 hour rolling news. There is though, an even worse phenomenon upon us. It’s the ‘we don’t have enough words to fill the page, let’s fill it with STUFF FROM THE TWITTERVERSE’.

This is not the same thing at all, people. This is worse. The difference between Vox Pop and twitter testimonials is, you’re very aware that a vox pop is the opinion of a cunt in the street who knows nothing. Your brain has a built in filter which just goes ‘IGNORE THIS. THIS PERSON HAS THE CRITICAL THINKING CAPABILITY OF A DOG’S COCK. MOVE ON, NOTHING TO SEE HERE.’ It’s fine, it’s harmless, it’s instantly forgotten. But with views from twitter, there’s a chance that you might think the opinion of @tenderloinfan234 is one which should be taken seriously. After all, if this person wasn’t some sort of expert, why would a newspaper be quoting them? They wouldn’t just put the opinions of a normal fucktard in print, would they? They keep that sort of thing for the sports pages.

Or what about the Book of Mormon ad campaign this week? If you didn’t see it, they paid for the entire front and back page spread of the Metro newspaper, which everyone in London reads, without exception. Unless they have  Kindle. Or they’re blind. The front page was a bunch of tweets from Normal People, lamenting that The Book of Mormon was so popular, they couldn’t get tickets for it. The back page was a bunch of tweets from Smug Normal People who had been to see it, and loved it. Underneath all of that, the headline read ‘150,000 New Tickets On Sale Today!’

Now, I know the Metro is owned by the Daily Mail, who would probably normally swallow their own fucking pancreases with faux-outrage at the musical’s subjects of baby rape, blasphemy and female circumcision; ‘PLAYED FOR LAUGHS’, they’d probably add, in between telling us how nice some 16 year old girl’s knockers are, now that she’s All Grown Up. I don’t even care about that hypocrisy. What I’m angry about is that the creators of the most politically smart and subversive show of the last 20 years are assuming that their target audience looks to the denizens of twitter to tell them whether or not something is good. But I guess that’s just how things are today. I guess I really don’t know if I like a movie/show/book , until I hear what @delisandwichboyterry45 thinks about it, in 140 characters or less, plus some hashtags.

I guess I’m just old now, and not with it. Which is fine by me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to tweet a link to this blog, and put ‘All Grown Up’ into the search bar on


Rape: Not Recommended For Girls (pretending to be boys). And Other Stories!

rachel-weisz-covers-esquire-uk-april-2013-01Okay, okay, okay. Justine McNally…  Explain this one to me again. So there’s a seventeen year old girl, and she pretends to be a boy, and tricks a sixteen year old girl into dating ‘him’. The younger girl doesn’t suspect a thing. She even ‘loses her virginity’ to ‘Scott’, in a ‘darkened bedroom’. Then some auntie or other finds a bra in Scott’s backpack. Oh, and a  fucking strap-on. And the game is up. Fair enough so far, you’re thinking. We all do silly things when we’re younger. But, wait: THEY JUST JAILED THE GIRL WHO WAS PRETENDING TO BE A BOY. For THREE YEARS.

That is now a crime. Watch the fuck out, Chas Bono. No, though. They prosecuted her, tried her and now they’ve banged her up. WHAT WAS THIS CRIME SHE COMMITTED, I HEAR NONE OF YOU ASKING. Here’s what it was, apparently: ‘She obtained consent to physical intimacy between them by fraud,’ said the prosecuting solicitor guy.

So, she got someone to have sex with her by telling lies; pretending to be something she wasn’t; lying about her intentions? THIS IS HOW EVERY MAN HAS ACQUIRED SEX IN EVERY SITUATION EVER, WITH NO EXCEPTIONS.

But when you girls do it, it’s a crime, and they put you in jail for three years. The moral of the story here is: if you want to get away with rape, make sure that you’re male. Just pretending to be male? Doesn’t work.

In other news, Miley Cyrus set the internet alive by doing a sexy dance on youtube, dressed as a unicorn, my morning paper told me today. Don’t even bother. She’s dressed in some sort of baby-grow,  the picture is all grainy and stuff, and nothing remotely filthy happens. I’ve seen more Cyrus-related sexual frisson in family photos where her dad is hugging her ‘a bit too tightly’.

A man in Carmarthen, South Wales has apparently got four kidneys and three pancreases inside him, due to Welsh surgeons being incredibly fucking lazy (I’d imagine). I so wanted this to be a story from Scotland, so I could make jokes about him being a human haggis. As it is, I’m just going to call him an offal cunt.

World’s greatest/skinniest/eyebrowiest supermodel Cara Delevigne did some sort of topless video thing, but I’m not going to watch it. She’s super-gorge and all that, but topless? I’ve seen more tits on Tom Daley’s back.

I must go now; I have a date later, with a seventeen year autistic old boy who I’ve convinced that I’m actually Rachel Weisz. We are so gonna bone.

Nick, Nik Nik, Nick Nick? Stuff Getting On My Wick, And My Poor Swollen Dick

The Perfect Storm of Cunt
The Perfect Storm of Cunt

My favourite bands are the Stone Roses and The Smiths, and I’ve never been interested in seeing a tribute band of either; no matter how good they are. I wanted to see the Roses in 1995, I think it was, but John broke his arm and they cancelled. Then they split up. So that was literally that.

I don’t want to see the Stone Roses now that they’re back together. The idea of seeing my musical idols standing on stage, pretending to like each other for money, while I dance around a field with a bunch of people who are a perpetual fucking reminder of how not fifteen I am any more? That is my personal idea of hell. Well that, or having sex with someone who says ‘could of’ when they should be saying ‘could have’.

Welcome to Day Two of the most informative, hilarious, and downright sexy blog I’ve ever written ever (this week). Did that last comma need to be there? We’ll literally never know.

I was hating people today, even more than normal. The bus driver who wouldn’t understand that the Oyster machine was broken; the Jews, back people, white people, the concept of ennui, that fucking tiger on the Frosties box, my father, the Chinese, Diego Maradona, Madonna, the Irish, homeless people, swans, the Dutch, asphalt, everyone who was ever born, Kanye West (twice), Pope Francis, Muhammed Ali, etc. Then I realised that it was just that I hadn’t had a wank since Monday. I’m like that, you see. I’m sensual.

So, what’s in the news?

Well there was a  budget. That’s not important. What’s important is, just a few years after jumping from the New Labour ship like the stinking vermin that he is, Rupert Murdoch has decided he doesn’t like the Tories now; Cameron in particular. Mainly because of all that Press Charter stuff. He got right fucked off with him in The Sun the other day. You know, in that bit on page 6 which tells the readers how to think. So now, there’s only the Lib Dems for old Rupe to support. It’s quite literally The Sun Wot Wins Elections, so the next one is clearly going to be a landslide for (direct descendant of Russia’s evil Tsars and Czars) Nick Clegg, and his 106 year old sidekick Vince ‘I knew Kane and Abel’ Cable.

This will be brilliant for the UK, as, despite obviously being a massive cunt who lies through his teeth and wants students to die from lack of Pot Noodle, Nick Clegg is the leader of a party who are basically the Tories on LSD. They hate the poor, the working classes and anyone who watches ITV2, but they want to legalise weed, and are totally okay with the practice of having a rent boy shit in your actual mouth, because you happen to be depressed about going bald. That’s my kind of party right there. All we need is for Boris to switch allegiances and become President of a new British Republic, after a Russell Brand-led revolution topples the Queen, and turns Buckinghm Palace into a needle exchange for Muslim paedophiles.

Jim Davidson has been re-arrested on sex charges relating to Operation Yewtree, but unfortunately it doesn’t look like it’s anything too paedo. As a result, the mouthbreathing fucktards who love his brand of woman-hating, racist, homophobic, Islamophobicly hilarious brand of belly-laugh comedy will probably carry on attending his shows on Southend Pier, where he gleefully (and without any notion of the definition of Irony) complains about the country going to shit because of Muslims and immigrants, so much so that he left it to go and live in Dubai. His fans will forgive him, naturally, and see his probable incarceration for rape as another case of ‘political correctness gone mad’. These are the sort of folk who say things like ‘YOU CAN’T EVEN HIT YOUR KIDS NO MORE, IT’S A BLOODY DISGRACE!’, or ‘AREN’T BLACK PEOPLE AWFUL?’ I hope they throw the book at Jim Davidson. And I hope the book is a metal plated copy of the Qur’an, and that it hits him in the fucking head and kills him.

Finally, in some more light-hearted news, twitter celebrates its seventh birthday today, and everyone who likes it is still a cunt.

More tomorrow!

Every Day I’m Shuffling! LOL! Fuck Off.


Made it, Ma! Top of the- nope. Straight to hell.
Made it, Ma! Top of the- nope. Straight to hell.

Well, yes. The musical group LMFAO. There’s a bunch of people who deserve to be non-consensually arse-fucked by the reanimated corpse of Michael Clarke Duncan. Sorry! I done a Rape Culture, didn’t I? You know, if we want Republicans and Right Wingers in general to understand Rape Culture, we should just take the E off the first word. If rich old white guys think Ice T and Snoop might be involved, they’ll be right on that shit. No doubt. And also, to a lesser extent, no diggity.

Hi! This is a new blog, because I want to do one wot comes out every day, about the current events of that actual day wot’s actually just happening. Now. Although I’ll be doing it in the (UK) evening, which is also the (USA) morning or afternoon; depending on if you live in Puffquippsy, NY or Sisterfelch, OR.

I plan to regurgitate all of the day’s pointless tabloid excuses for news; talk about who’s hot, who’s not, and who’s been done for fingering children, in that crazy world which we like to call ‘Celebrity’. There may also be some soapbox ranting, bits where I tell you why Taylor Swift is lovely, and the odd paragraph of extremely detailed poetry about Victoria Beckham’s gusset. Because it’s quite the exquisite minge-vase, let me tells ya.

But that all starts tomorrow, as today there was no news at all. Well, apart from this stuff:

– The Duchess of Cambridge is still pregnant, with what is probably just a girl or something. New rules though, state that despite being a girl, it will still be King before Prince Harry. He will just have to console himself by drowning his sorrows in the pink, pouting, well-oiled anus  of whatever horsey, double-barrelled lingerie model he’s currently boning.

– Michael Owen is retiring from football. About three years after he last fucking played anything resembling it. That’s a sports joke, women. There won’t be many, don’t worry.

– Lindsay Lohan celebrated her community service/rehab/counselling sentence by going to a nightclub. Because rich people don’t actually have to obey the law, and every time you buy one of her DVDs, you’re funding that lifestyle. I prefer to torrent them myself, and add to the subversion by masturbating like a chimp at her onscreen image. Of course, if you try it with The Parent Trap, you can double her humiliation. At least that’s what I told myself afterwards, as I lay shaking on the bathroom floor; tears mixing with semen; the makeshift cock and ball ring (which I’d fashioned from Rosary Beads) cutting into my sweating, yeast-ridden crotch skin. A whispered prayer to Jesus falling on deaf ears, as he was watching I Know Who Killed Me.

Thank you and goodnight!