Daily Archives: November 11, 2014

The Tesco Remembrance Pizza

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“In Flanders Fields the salami blow, between the cheeses, slice on slice…”

Tesco are (as we know) monumental cunts. But their latest tasteless sales scheme takes the absolute piss… A Rememberance Pizza? With two pieces of pepperoni and an olive representing a poppy? If the lads who fought for Blighty all those years ago could see what Britain would become in 2014, I don’t think they would have bothered…

Nominated by: Norman

Tesco are indeed monumental cunts for this. I’m only surprised they didn’t market it with an even more tasteless tagline. If they could get away with selling barbecues to commemorate the bombing of Hiroshima I’d bet they would do it.

Tesco were of course quick to lay the blame on “rogue employees”. (yeah… right!). Apparently the twatter crowd were quick to join in with mindless quips, which considering anyone who uses Twitter is a cunt beyond redemption comes as no surprise I suppose.

Nominated by: Captain Japseye

And this from “The Independent” …

As the image spread on Twitter people were quick to make fun, commenting things like ‘lest we forget the anchovies’ and accusing the supermarket of cashing in on a day of mourning.

“Colleagues in stores have been marking Remembrance Sunday in a number of ways and we hope customers see that their intentions in this case were entirely borne out of respect,” a Tesco spokesperson pleaded.

This is 2014 though, expect several thousand more tweets and a full apology by 5pm.

Gregory Porter

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Me old farmer Giles have been playing up somewhat chronic now there’s a decided nip in the air so generally not quite me ever loving peace prize winning self but even so this blues/jazz Porter jasper comes as a bit orf a poke up the arse. Indeed seems to be poking up everywhere so particularly pissed orf by the cunt and anything to do with him.

Whilst bending over as me butler applied me Anusol caught sight orf this crap on a bit orf newspaper in the cat’s litter tray: “Gregory Porter fans will already be well aware of the subtle power of his voice that can caress or confront, embrace or exhort, which slips down through the ears, trickling gently into the soul like whisky and honey. His third album, Liquid Spirit, is a cup that runneth over with lyrics ranging from the political and provocative to the deeply emotional, all sung in that rich, resonant voice”.

Have to say that the last time I have truly had that experience was taking a spot orf golden rain from the under gardener’s daughter. By God after a few ciders can that filly piss!

God spare me the bollocks. The memsahib had the cunt on the wireless but short order tuned to the gee-gees at Haydock Park. Said he sounded like a low rent Barry White (and he was a fucking flatulent joke) but minus the luvvvv.

To cap it all the tosser sports a titfer held orn by a bally balaclava. Apparently the old liquid soul luv machine wears the fandago to hide a skin condition. Never notice that then. Cunt in a twat hat.

Nominated by: Sir Limply Stoke