are cunts.
Well that was quite a haul.
400 big ones filched by Peter Murrell, estranged pretend husband of the former Empress Krankie.
Spent on a motorhome, VW Golf, Jaguar I-Pace, jewellery, watches, wine coaster, coffee maker, fountain pen, video games and so on. And Kranks didn’t think to ask where the money was coming from. As wives never do.
Murrell’s pleaded guilty and awaits sentencing as I write., so none of their dirty wee secrets will be aired in court. How convenient. What deal has Murrell struck in return for protecting her I wonder? A lesser prison term perhaps?
When asked to comment, Krankie replied
‘I do not recall ever having been married.”
Nominated by Geordie Twatt.
I wonder what kind of deal was cooked up to ensure wee Jimmy enjoyed the kind of immunity from police interference usually reserved for South American drug cartels, or prime ministers who don’t pay their rent boys?
And more to the point, why?
She’s nothing more than an over promoted parish councillor with a napoleon complex, yet she’s been let off the hook.
It all stinks more than her yeasty minge.
5
It’s part and parcel of enjoying the years long journey aboard the Gravy Train.
Occasionally one of the corrupt cunts has to be thrown to the wolves.
But not Lego Dwařf.
All most unfortunate my dear Field Marshal.
2
Its understandable Nicola not knowing what Peter was up to, when she was putting men in women’s prisons.
2
Poor old Peter.
He thought he’d be spending his retirement with Nicola in the now infamous campervan driving around scenic Scottish dogging sites and wild swimming in the nudie by moonlight.
2
The fragrant Nicky has already confessed her sexuality is ‘non binary’ or in other words she sees the possibility of enjoying a fish supper and a mauling with another fish supper sporting a big black strap on rubber dick sometime in the future.
In the meantime, poor cuck Peter will be mauling his maggot behind bars before being arsefucked by his cellmate, Analingus Angus from Glasgee.
Hoots Mon!
2
‘Hit the road, Keir.
And don’t you come back, no more, no more, no more, no more.
Hit the road, Keir. And don’t you back no more.🎵’
1