Tourists
Not every tourist is a cunt. When I go on holiday, I’m a bloody tourist. Whether the locals think I’m a cunt is up to them; I’m not too bothered. I go on holiday to sit on a beach with the hope of looking like a sun-dried tomato when I return home. I don’t go on holiday to make people’s lives a misery with my obnoxious behaviour, oversized backpack and wank selfie stick. However, as I mentioned before, not all tourists are cunts; just a vast majority of them.
First of all we have the boozy Brit cunts. I’m ashamed to be from the same island as these fuckers. A mix of obese beer-bellied arses, randy used-up old slappers and arrogant jacked-up Danny Dyer wannabe pricks. All from rough council estates and on benefits. The locals must despair of them.
Then we have the stereotypical Yank tossers with their straw hats, binoculars round their necks, distasteful Hawaiian shirts, cargo shorts and not forgetting the socks with sandals combo. A whole gang of them clustered round Leicester Square or outside Fuckingham Palace. Huge Canon cameras and oversized maps to hand, obviously.
The worst of all are the fucking Chinks and Jap bastards. Endless groups of them and they are fucking everywhere. Taking pictures of everything from a pavement pizza outside the local pub to a homeless bloke who’s just overdosed on smack and is mid-seizure. This country is plagued with foreigners. Everywhere you look there is at least one. Sometimes I go out thinking I’m in a different country altogether. Fuck off.
Nominated by, Jayniño




