Oh dear. What a pity. How sad.

Life doesn’t seem to be treating Emmanuel ‘Little Napoleon’ Macron well at the moment. Plagued by Brexit frustrations and dissent and economic woe at home, the French president is now finding it increasingly hard to impose his will in on-going ‘negotiations’ in The Union of Fraternal Love.

Talks drag on regarding the EU’s proposed €750 bill. C-19 rescue package, with Dutch PM Mark Rutte and his allies (Austria, Sweden, Denmark and now Finland) wanting more oversight of spending, and for more of the cash to be in the form of loans as opposed to non-repayable grants.

No doubt Microbe is keen to trouser the lion’s share of the wedge for France on advantageous terms, and sooner rather than later. His increased fractiousness seems finally to have led him to spit his dummy out. With the bully bursting out of the midget’s clothing, he has accused PM Rutte of taking on Britain’s obstructive role in EU summits.

He then threatened to walk out, claiming (get this for brass neck!) that ‘no deal is better than a bad deal’, by which, we may assume, he means ‘a bad deal for France’. With a further heavy application of Gallic charm, he then banged the table when Austria’s Sebastian Kurz had the audacity to leave The Imperial Presence to take an urgent phone call. Chancellor Kurz was reportedly offended after Microbe snapped ‘you see?

He doesn’t care. He won’t listen to others’**.

Oh well, what goes around comes around chaps. The ‘Frugal Four’, now joined by Finland, are no longer able to shelter behind Britannia’s shield. They’ve had to grow some balls, stick their heads over the parapet and take the flak for a change. The next time a British PM comes calling seeking reforms in return for continuing shed loads of cash, it might be in your interests, and those of your fellow member states, to listen. Oh but wait; there won’t BE a next time, will there?

As for the vertically challenged M. Microbe, it would appear that life is, indeed, turning out to be something of a bitch, as his stature continues to diminish by the day.The twat needs to get himself a much better pair of platform shoes if he’s going to continue his posturing. Run along home to mummy and she’ll buy you some, and another dummy.
Oh dear. What a pity. How sad.

** Translation into English; ‘he won’t do what I want’.

Nominated by: Ron Knee

The Memorial Stone to Wing Commander Guy Gibson’s dog “Ni**er” has been defaced. Sorry, I meant “edited” to remove its name.

Again, another piece of our history is rewritten to pander to SJW and soy boys who would @&%$ themselves were they called to perform the feats our grandparents did so that they can sip their almond milk, (un)fair trade coffee and preach their beliefs as though they were Holy Writ.

Care to place any bets as to whether cRap music will face the same? Of course, that is multi-culti sjw approved and all must bow down while OUR history and culture are destroyed to placate the feelings of these idiots who will never be satisfied until British culture is erased or sterilised to create their Brave New World. I would tell them to stick it but they would probably enjoy it.

I am soooo ANGRY!

Nominated by: Mr Angry

(Just a reminder: to prevent your comment going into moderation, don’t use the N word in full – admin)

Spike Island.

Let them eat nostalgia, as some cunt once said. It is the 30th (fuck me) anniversary of the ‘seminal’ gig at Spike Island. Now this has been described as ‘seismic’ and ‘the Woodstock for the E generation’ and other bollocks like that. But the truth is it was shit.

The venue was both nonsensical and crap. A bugger to get to and get out of. In the middle of the fucking Mersey and in the middle of a chemical plant. The air fucking stank for a start. The bogs and the catering were also substandard, overpriced and nowhere near adequate. The support acts were total shite. Some ‘DJ’ cunt called Frankie Bones and that tuneless gobshite, Gary Clail. If they thought it would create a ‘rave’ type atmosphere, they were wrong.

This shit went on for hours and the crowd got more and more pissed off. Then arriving ‘fashionably’ late were The Stone Roses. And they were crap on the day. The sound was total bollocks and they just couldn’t go toe to toe with a crowd of that size. It was badly organised, badly put on and the choice of venue was ridiculous.

It took them 22 years to realise that Heaton Park was ideal for such a gig, and that gig in 2012 was everything May 1990 should have been. It has been mythologised and its reputation enhanced over the years, but I was there and Spike Island was a load of cunt. I saw the band do some great gigs, but this was not one of them.

Nominated by: Norman