The Welsh Language



Does this sentence look pathetic to you? Be forever grateful that you hail from a wealthy and fertile land, a land that produces an abundance of goods and services. Be thankful you can afford to trade for such pleasantries and caprices as VOWELS. I have created “Vowels For Wales”, a non-profit NGO primarily dedicated to helping those most wretched of souls. If you have any vowels you don’t really need, please send them in.

Thousands of Welsh owe their miserable lives to the afflictions of their native tongue. They sit in their caves with their sheep and prostrate themselves before their ever so meek twig-and-pebble alters, bedecked as they are with any shiny things they might have found while doing pilgrimages to Tintern Abbey and the Wye Valley, and chant phonetically, in a language even they cannot comprehend.

Some naysayers foment that it’ll never work just giving them vowels. They say we’ll only encourage in them sloth and dependency. They insist the Welsh should be encouraged to avail themselves of their amazing comparative advantage in the production of consonants. They would be far better off trading with prolific vowel suppliers like, maybe, the Hawaiians.

They might be right; It is simple economics I reckon.

Nominated by: Cuddling Aquarians

Schooldays spakkers


I want to nominate ‘spakkers’. Not the full blown variety, like cunts in wheel chairs or mongers. I’m referring to the ‘tards’ I went to school with. All the cunts in stream 5 at the local secondary modern.

Johnny Sausage with the thick pebble glasses. The cunt with the accessory nipple who was always taking his shirt off to show to the girl with the gammy eye. The kid who would always shout out the same word in class and think it was funny and then wank off and wipe is jiz on Johny Sausage’s blazer. The poor kid who would always put his hand up for a second helping of free school dinners.

Where are these cunts now?

Nominated by: Flaxen Saxon