There I was, sat in the kitchen perusing the Death column in my local paper when my pleasure was rudely interrupted by a hammering on the door. It was so loud and inistent that I assumed that either the Excise man had made good on his threats following the recent unpleasantness, or ISAC had published my name and address and I was under siege from the very occasional person who may have misconstrued one of my posts.
However when the dogs and I flung the door open, ready to go down in the style of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, I was faced with an old gent wielding a walking-stick which he must have used to bray at the door. I could see that the dogs had the beating of the pensioner if he cut up rough, so I demanded to know what the Fuck he wanted. Obviously not in the least intimidated by 2 snarling dogs and one snarling cunt, he set to explaining to me that he was researching his family tree and believed he was some kind of distant relative of mine.
I was taken aback by this unwelcome revelation, and before I could gather my wits he asked if he could see the old family bible and any other documents or photos I might have. Fortunatey, by that point I’d composed myself sufficiently to demand of the coffin-dodging grave-peeker if he thought that I was some kind of Public Records Office. I was in the middle of telling him I’d never heard of his family surname in connection with mine (I had) and that I had better things to do than stand on my doorstep bandying gossip with a complete stranger, when he said he had documents and old maps in the car which he’d like to show me.
I let him wobble back down across the stackyard to his car, gather up his papers, and teeter right back to my door. Just as he reached out to show me some bit of paper I shut the door on him. These Family Tree searchers are mostly busybodies hoping that they’ll stumble on some misplaced inheritance, although by the look of the old goat that I chased, I was a sight more likely to collect from his will than he was from mine.
I have no interest in my close family, never mind some grasping old fart who probably hadn’t bought one off those life-assurances policies and was hoping that I’d spare him the shame of a Beggar’s Funeral by contributing to the expense. He was wrong.
Happed to tune in unintentionally to RT TV channel earlier today.
Had the misfortune to watch the closing minutes of one Scottish George Galloway talking to his fourth wife (he was wearing a very strange hat).
Whilst he and I share the fact that we are both Leavers, I must confess in the few times that I have seen him speaking have never really understood what he is all about, other than he is a lefty socialist, anti war, and anti capitalist. Have never seen him get on well with or agree with any one on any of the panels I have seen, and to be honest I am not sure what his purpose is in life.
His own website includes a quote that reads as follows: “Galloway is the most charismatic politician in Britain. His pugnacious politics are allied to a warmth, humor and charm that go a long way with voters”. To be honest I have not witnessed any war, humor or charm in any of the cips seen of him.
Find it staggering how he has been able to find four women to marry him? His latest is relatively OK looking, 30 years his junior and I think I am right in saying they had a baby together last year?
Also remember watching a very strange clip of him with Rula Lenska (you know the rather strange cat one), if not the abridged clip is linked below.
A very weird, shifty looking cunt (who if Iam right) has never been nominated before on the ISAC site, and because of this I feel it is worth putting George forward if any to receive honest appraisals from my fellow Cunters.
If your life isn’t going well and you expect to be richer/sexier/more complete, why not try a life coach? They’ll give meaning to your life. They won’t just spout hackneyed gibberish like “Leave your comfort zone”, they’ll insist they have ” the secret” and will claim they know how to “harness your inner power”. Not at all tired, condescending cliches.
This is another, wretched Yank import like Black Friday, the intense commercialisation of Halloween, fast food and awful spelling. There are courses to take, workshops to attend, books to buy, these leeches will find a way to extract your money and you’ll consent to it.
This has to be one of the best scams of the 21st Century. ” Take a journey to yourself” read one hollow, quasi-religious nonsensical headline. All these smarmy parasites have done is had expensive haircuts, bleached their grinders until they shine, then casually googled a few Buddhist quotes. They aren’t saviors, they’re frauds who feed on the depressed, the weak, and the insecure.
Captain Magnanimous advises, “Take a journey to fuck yourself, you parasitic cunts”.