Farmers Markets are cunty concepts, aren’t they?
Overpriced, mangy-looking fruit no doubt picked by dole-claiming Romanian drug-dealers who at this very moment are burglarising your house.
Shitty, tasteless vegetables that resemble a chubby snowflake’s mistreated vulva. Half a dozen pissy, sorry-looking olives three times the price they are in a supermarket.
Why in fuckery would I want to purchase this overpriced cack, let alone be within whiffing distance of a farmer dunce? Why these gammon-faced retards are allowed anywhere near civilisation is beyond me. Pikeyish farmers who know neither basic English nor basic hygiene, the evidence of this being the putrid hum from their frayed clothing, stained from their feasts of dog food Fray Bentos and dead pigeons. Within fifty yards you can smell their disease.
Stop clogging up my town with your inferior produce; Stay in your caravan, with your hobbies:- trying to operate a toilet, drinking cheap whiskey, avoiding bathing, and fucking family members.
Nominated by Captain Magnanimous



