Ladies and Gentlemen, Great Britain is falling apart. There are gangs of kids everywhere and THEY are in control.
Mobile phone theft was just the start (and in actual fact just an insurance scam). I look out of my window and all I see are burning bins, sound systems and ritual sacrifice to God of UK Garage. Just yesterday I read a story in my local paper, The Ormskirk Scandanavius, about a sweet old woman who was a part time cleaner at the local Community Center getting impaled sixteen times on a gigantic and deadly recreation of Gareth Gates' head. They built the head so they could worship it.
Latest rumours down the Rotary Club is that the gang that hang around the bus station are selling crack to the animals. Several dogs have been found hanged and there is much graffiti - "I eat Craig David's penis-like nose", "F**k Our Majesty's Legion of Contol" etc. . .
This cannot continue lest all the good work laid down by the heroes of Briton be destroyed. The utter street riots and orgy of public fucking that was Punk Rock is a stark and terrifying lesson for us all and the lesson is this - Watching "Lunchtime with Des and Mel" turns you into a nasty fascist.
BACKWARD INDUSTRY TWAT A - "You know what this nation needs, Miles?"
BACKWARD INDUSTRY TWAT B - "What's that, Rhodri?"
BACKWARD INDUSTRY TWAT A - "One whole hour a day of a tancancered lobster of gimpy old seventies throwback and a dull slut whos prescence or abscence makes no difference whatsoever yelling it WHAT TO THINK"
BACKWARD INDUSTRY TWAT B - "Excellent idea, Rhodri, now lets get a black cab to Camden and buy some fucking BEADS"
And off they go, hand in hand, two Horsemen of the Cockalypse bent on downing expensive lagers and retail. From the cab, through the market and passed the burning bins and the huge new effigy of Chris Moyles the young skatekids say prayers to.
Are we now left with no comfort but Nick Ross and his impossible pleas for the nightmares to stop? Memories of '66 and an impossible utopic vision of warm cricket and stale beer? Distant dreams of the warm safety a Sunday evening spent with Noel Edmonds and a large pink disturbance having a "House Party"? Yeah, yeah, the guy fell off the crane, people got killed, the disturbance went solo. Is this Great Britain today?
In conclusion I'd say our best hope are more and more B&Q Warehouses supplimented with a large carpark that is clearly divided into sections with letters to signify each one. A brainless freefall into DIY and respecting Titchmarsh rather than wanting to pin him down and piss on his lips. An Englishmans home may be his castle, but wither kingdom, Britain? Wither Kingdom?
― Lynskey (Lynskey), Thursday, 7 November 2002 17:35 (twenty-three years ago)
Pull yourself together Lynskey! There's no use crying over split empires. Just take the drugs, take the money, buy the nice shiny products that they make so irresistible, and be a good world citizen. You can take comfort from the fact that those annoying kids will be where you are in a few years time, and you'll probably be dead and none of this will ultimately matter a toss.
Don't mention it! I'm just glad I could make you feel so much better about the situation.
― Pete Andrews, Friday, 8 November 2002 12:47 (twenty-three years ago)
Well you haven't.
Only five minutes ago I had the side of my face ripped off by a rampant Pink-obssesed zitpark without seeing a glimpse of precious remorse in his teeny eyes.
And the fact that they will grow old and die is not enough. Quite frankly, I'm immortal and I'm up to here with this piss poor "little Billy is going to die" bullshit I see every day on the news. I say dig them up and kill them again. Or kill them by Electric Missile, film it and transport the footage back in time to their seventh birthday party. Lets see if Billy fancies robbing a car when he knows that its all going to end by cinderous megablast.
― Lynskey (Lynskey), Friday, 8 November 2002 20:36 (twenty-three years ago)