Farmers Markets

Farmers Markets are cunty concepts, aren’t they?

Overpriced, mangy-looking fruit no doubt picked by dole-claiming Romanian drug-dealers who at this very moment are burglarising your house.

Shitty, tasteless vegetables that resemble a chubby snowflake’s mistreated vulva. Half a dozen pissy, sorry-looking olives three times the price they are in a supermarket.

Why in fuckery would I want to purchase this overpriced cack, let alone be within whiffing distance of a farmer dunce? Why these gammon-faced retards are allowed anywhere near civilisation is beyond me. Pikeyish farmers who know neither basic English nor basic hygiene, the evidence of this being the putrid hum from their frayed clothing, stained from their feasts of dog food Fray Bentos and dead pigeons. Within fifty yards you can smell their disease.

Stop clogging up my town with your inferior produce; Stay in your caravan, with your hobbies:- trying to operate a toilet, drinking cheap whiskey, avoiding bathing, and fucking family members.

Nominated by Captain Magnanimous

45 thoughts on “Farmers Markets

  1. I must admit Mrs Boggs and me once wondered into one of these horrible events as our local high street promoted such an event one Saturday. This was four or five years ago, and interestingly it never repeated the experiment.

    The produce does look as you describe and the whole event smelt worse than a zoo-keepers boots. The sellers looked like overweight bumpkins and their wives like a cross between Jess Phillips and Emily Thornberry – a mixture of obese distain and dubious personal hygiene.

  2. Dog food? Fray Bentos? Dead pigeons? I hope you are not having a sly pop at my esteemed and honourable friend , the Cuntess of Fiddler…….or whatever the fuck he calls himself these days.
    Probably a mistake on my part. My apologies.
    He is a bit of a cunt though.

  3. Good Morning

    I am sorry I can’t agree with this. Our town centre is dead in fact it suffers from Rigor Morris. Killed by the operations of the rip-off supermarkets. The only faint sign of life is when the farmer’s market comes to town once a month. Far better almost going off fruit and veg than the highly irradiated, flavourless, crap that Tesco and Sainsbury’s sell.

  4. Never had to suffer those kind of iffy ooh-arrrrr kind of cunts in my neck of the woods in the Lake District; some of the ordinary farmers have similar days though, and their produce looks marginally more recognizable and fresh, even if it is over priced.

    But then they bang on about how tough it is being a farmer these days, along with far less subsidy, and “those bastard supermarkets fucking us over with their margins!”

    But other than that they’re not too bad, and are mostly quite friendly to Townies and tourists alike.

    Hopefully those enterprising pikey cunts can stay the fuck away!

  5. If you can’t afford the produce at a Farmer’s Market,stick to your cheaper outlets where you’ll feel more comfortable.

    As for Farmers ” fucking family members”, apart from the Muzzas,most cases of that kind of thing seem to occur in the towns where some creepy office-type has married the local slapper in order to get access to her children……hmmmm….

    • PS..Brilliant nom…..worthy of a barrister’s cross-examination…v from a brilliant mind too clever for Mensa.

      LOL

  6. Hopefully come 31 October a lot of these mono-browed migrants will fuck off. No disrespect but I’m just trying guess which shit-hole towns people are moaning about. It makes the whole nomination more fun..

    • Ingland good. No go home. Home bad. Lot of bad peepel, bad Rooskis. Plenty stuff Ingland, no pay.
      You give me money plis? Me need.

  7. Love a farmers market, me n mrs miserable!
    Fresh produce and locally grown!
    Plus get to buy british!
    Farmers supply the food we eat from fresh beef to the veg n fruit, im all for them, buy british fuck european shite.

  8. I did plough a farmers daughter a few times back in the day, she was tasty and firm.

    I certainly support our farmers and their produce.

  9. Yes this sounds more like gyppos than farmers market!
    This image of a poor farmer?
    Well farm machinery isnt cheap, most drive range rovers, and any money man worth his salt will tell you land is way to go!
    We see acres of fields, the suits see housing developments!
    That cunt corbym an his sidekick ol mcdonnell would take farmers land for building houses for foreign immo scum!
    Like Mugabe in Zimbabwe!
    No sounds like Cap was on a pikey site
    Trying to haggle for organic honey!

  10. Checked out a farmer’s market that came to Portmeirion about 15 years ago. It was a rip-off. Other than that I know naffink abaaaaaht ’em.

    • Morning Rtc
      Im in moderation. For once was trying to make a valid point without swearing or casual racism.
      Maybe the farmers market you went to was aimed at tourists or something?
      Portmerion has tourist trade doesn’t it?
      Pardon my ignorance not actually been there.

      • Yo, Miserable. How you doing?

        They definitely weren’t pikéys, far too smart an operation for that. I don’t doubt there are some good farmer’s markets, but I’m more than satisfied with the stuff I get from our regular market, so not really bothered either way.

        Be seeing you…

  11. We have a real one. On a farm with proper home grown veg, not some fucking poncy, Islington, artisan rip off operation. The veg is what’s available not what can be flown in from fucking Uganda and re-labelled by a cunt in a quiff and a beard.

  12. Just heard a libtard on the radio talking about the subject of gender fluidity.

    He said that in 2019 people should have the option “to be what they want to be”.

    No you daft twat, you are what you are born.

  13. Recently came across one of these pseudo-just-moved-to-the-country types running a stall claiming to sell “our own-grown fresh produce”.
    When I asked the rah rah bitch how she managed to grow her bananas the cunt got really uppity.

  14. We have this tat where we live. Overpriced tat with decrepit buntings flapping over their stall and a disingenuous mutton-chops prick uttering unctuous pleasantries. See also French Markets, German Markets, Organic Markets. Fuckk Offf.

  15. Speaking of yokels I just watched that fascist bitch Mrs Swindler addressing the Nuremberg rally in Bournemouth. She came across as a complete and utter mong, talking out of her arsehole. There were lingering shots of the audience………a bunch of fucking old dodderers, not many right ons there. One old cunt……zz top beard, shorts and sandals. Total wanker.
    Wound me up so much I had to mention it to someone. I fucking hate remoaners.

    • Yeah i clocked him!
      Worlds oldest schoolboy?
      Why do to anything except the beach in shorts?
      Looked like one of them register types!!

      • Swinson ofAbitch probably wishes she could work in a Farmers’ market to further cheat people, yokel cunt.

    • “For all us, in or out, when the British people have spoken you do what they say, they command it. You put the national interest first either you believe in democracy or you don’t. You cannot run the democratic system unless you accept the democratic judgement.”

      (Paddy Pantsdown, speaking after the polls closed on referendum night)

  16. Swinson looks like a fucking coypu with those two, oversized yellow front teeth.

    I heard her interviewed by Pesto last night. What a cunt, avoiding his question about the 52% majority leavers. She just continued to mangle her words and talk a lot but actually impart the square root of fuck all meaningful.

    I bet, just like Jess Phillips, she smells of rotten haddock.

    The cunt.

  17. Have to say that farmers’ markets round my way bear virtually no resemblance to that described in the nom. Good meat and veg are usually available, though, granted, often at higher prices than seem reasonable. If your local authority isn’t insisting on basic hygiene standards, they are the people to complain to: seems to be no problem round here. My major complaints would be with the professional vegetarian brigade, often selling their wares from boxes clearly marked “Produce of Spain”, and with crusties infiltrating the events with holistic crystal candle bollocks. Perhaps these are what you have in mind?

    I will be happy to supply (freshly) dead pigeons to the cunter should he wish to enjoy a delicious meal which has led a wild, free and untrammelled existence, and has never been near a farmer. But if he is a vegan, as I suspect, I cannot help him.

  18. What REALLY superheats my golden stuff is the arty-farty knick-knacks that will come out of somebody’s lock-up a couple of weeks before Christmas, and be touted round the cuntry…
    Poker-work eggcups, anyone ?
    Scented candles (that have been up the office splosher’s vag) ?
    Recycled olive-oil from a celebrity diddling pool, complete with raspberry & quinoa flavour condoms floating in it ?

    • Which brings us to Christmas markets. Usually with a Continental theme, and an opportunity to flog Euro-trough at twenty times wholesale rates in the pissing rain or sleet. If I want Polish sausage (=German sausage, for all practical purposes), there’s a Pole place down the road, where the chilly atmosphere is solely due to the cunt behind the counter, not the weather, and the price is based on that of pork, rather than platinum. If I want crepes, I’ll look up the recipe on Google and have a go myself, though I have never yet felt the need. French wines? Bugger that. Chilean is generally better. I know where the olives came from, too, mate. A Turkish wholesaler in London, who sells the cunts by the ton at prices Turkish migrant workers can afford. Being sold six for a pound by a Marsellais of Algerian extraction does not inspire me with feelings of brotherhood amid diversity, sorry.

      A cunt of a con.

      • Yeah Christmas markets are expensive!
        Used to go one in Manchester city centre, but crowded & cramped, bit to hectic to relax.
        Like the smells though! Cinnamon, onions frying, sausage sizzling, etc
        Dont go anymore never seem to have the time,

    • Think your probably right spoons,
      Although it pains me to say it, the Germans do a fine sausage.
      But given the choice between a good British one and a amazing German one?
      British every time.

      • Oh yes. Can’t beat a good British banger. Big plate of mash, fried onions, gravy, sausages. Some peas if there’s room on the plate. Nice one, Northern! 🙂

      • Fuck, that sounds immense… all I’m having for my tea is a fucking, poxy rocket salad as I’m on a bastard diet.

    • I was thinking more of slicing sausage than links. Salami-style, but the best specimens are Central European: protein you could keep right through a hard winter without it going off, and cut chunks off as needed for soups and stews as well as uncooked snacks. German is good – my father returned from a German PoW camp addicted to leberwurst -god knows how he got it – but I am still trying to find the Polish one the Co-Op used to sell when the Soviets were still in Warsaw, and when even here Co-Op stores looked as if they had been designed by Stalin. There are also tantalising references to Czech sausage in “The Good Soldier Schweik”, which I must follow up one day.

      The best link-style sausages ever made by anyone are these:

      https://www.hotukdeals.com/deals/rosspa-westlers-sausages-in-lard-380g-029-each-or-4-for-1-1210510

      Availability varies wildly..
      Digression ends.

  19. That reminds me Komodo, the lad who works for me was talking to a posh customer, customer was saying about baked stilton, lad pulled his face,
    Customer asked him what cheese he liked?
    Lad ‘dairylee triangles’.
    I nearly fell off the back of the van laughing….

    • 🙂 Promote that lad and shoot the customer. Baking Stilton should be a criminal offence, and Dairylea is great on toast.

      • I imagine sitting at a table in a posh restaurant, whilst delicately cutting a piece with knife a fork, holding the cut piece to my nose, “Mmm a delicate bouquet. Redolent of spring days en Provence” then gobbling it up like Cookie Monster. OMM NOM NOM!!!

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