Because he’s a creepy, humourless puff.
And he’s supporting the use of drag queens in schools.
My kids are luckily grown up now.
But I’d withdraw my child if for a moment I thought they’d be exposed to drag queens or Peter Tatchell for that matter!
He keeps some questionable company and seems a bit to interested in kids for my liking.
In my opinion he’s a wrong un.
He looks like Peter Cushing too.
If Peter Cushing was in the Blue Oyster bar.
The bloke never smiles either, like a fuckin android or something?
He doesn’t smile because he’s guilty.
Nominated by: Miserable northern cunt
When I was a young cunt at school, we said the Lord’s Prayer every morning in assembly and we sang a hymn. My Primary School still exists, but I bet that prayer and the songs have been axed, because it will upset all the Paggiz and Africunts that now infest the place. When I was a kid, there were just one or two dark personages in the class. Now there are scores of them. Only a matter of time before some schools have no white kids at all.
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I’d kick him in the cunt if he spoke to my child like that.
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Tatchell: Brain washed arse-bandit.
They’ve been trying to sneak in and normalize poofery for decades. When I was a lad the only drag artists were Danny La Rue and Hinge and Brackett. My primary school head mistress actually looked like Dr Evadne Hinge and she was a woman. Being nearly 50 now I’d actually shag a woman that looked like Dr Evadne Hinge. If she was a woman. I’m confused now.
Nobody wants the AIDS:
Poor old Liberace Rock Hudson, Dudley Stevens, Freddie Mercury, Kenny Everett, Michael Sundin and Mr Claypole out of Rentaghost. If they didn’t do barebacking they’d probably still be alive or have lived a lot longer. It’s not hygenic.
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Only a poof would wear a shirt like that.
“I’m a lumberjack and I’m ok…….”
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You have to admit he looks cute. Enticing even. And that satisfied little smile tells you he’s recently received a good lubbocking.
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Starmer’s wet dream must be to have Tatchell and Izzard sitting in his cabinet, a pair of pervs who somehow seem to excite the compassion of the Proles
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Preening cocoa-shunter. Tatchell – Satchel – Oaten’s briefcase. Fun with faeces… there’s always a link, no smoke without a Chubb fire extinguisher up yer anus as they say, dear boy.
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