spEak You're bRanes

Careful, women. This is what can happen if you go out and enjoy yourselves.

And if that’s not enough harrumphing for you, Tara’s dug up this fucker…

These days I always avoid drunken women. Drunken men are bad enough, but drunken women are an absolute nightmare. They’re not only irrational and violent like men; but spiteful and provocative in a uniquely female way. They’re also completely uninhibited sexually, whilst staggering about with more anatomy exposed than covered. They will fawn-over and aggressively flirt with anything in trousers, committing indecent assault almost as a matter of course in the name of `fun’. And if you decline their Amazon overtures, they will either explode into a paroxysm of rage and attack you themselves, incite their boyfriends or husbands to attack on their behalf, or claim that you assaulted them and attempted/committed rape. An obsession with rights has left them with a perverted sense of absolute and self-righteous liberty. Above all things; it is drunken women who have made inner-cities into Saturday night no-go areas for the sober and the sane.
Little Ted

Little Ted, gentleman sex offender, govt_helper with a better editor. He avoids drunken women like the plague. He avoids them by walking straight towards them and dispersing them with his powerful, natural repulsiveness.

If that doesn’t work, he avoids them by getting their partners to beat him up. Then failing that, he avoids them by encouraging them to press charges.

He doesn’t want to do any of this, and he wouldn’t have to if they’d only learn to behave and let go of their silly ideas about ‘rights’ and ‘living their lives the way they see fit’ and ‘expressing their sexuality’ and ‘wearing what they feel like wearing’, because apparently it’s not enough to just stick your cock into her fanny anymore, oh no, now you’re supposed to know what you’re doing with it as well, you’re expected to ‘pleasure’ and ‘satisfy’ her, and woe betide if you don’t, I mean what happened to the good old days when women didn’t really like sex and just pretended to in order to get pregnant and stop you going out and paying for it, and they stood by their man, however revolting he was, not finding attractive men attractive, because they were after more than that, or so they said, but it turns out they aren’t are they, they do want it after all, but then they pretend they don’t want it, and I’m sorry but they’re going to have to make their minds up, do they want it or don’t they, they can’t have it both ways. They need teaching a lesson.

Plus, binge-drinking is detrimental to their health.

Iain found Paul lurking in the comments on this thing about the March 26 protests. You may be wrongfooted early on by what I’ll happily concede is a convincing impression of a reasonable human being. Beware.

I went on the big march, yet I experienced no violence of any kind, although my friend Tony was really pleased to turn up back at the flat with a policeman’s helmet (no, the head wasn’t inside it). That was Grosvenor Square, the famous ‘riot’ of 1968. The media tropes haven’t changed since then, have they? It’s always “Peaceful march ruined by mindless thugs”, followed by some new dollop of oppressive legislation to keep the Mail headline writers happy. Of course, no-one then remembers what the protest was about. One wonders, how many of those masked men kicking at windows were the famous undercover police, or fifth columnists as they used to be known. You can’t tell when they’re masked. It’s really quite alarming, what you’re not allowed to do, say or even think nowadays, how oppressive the authoritarian state has become. While radioactive iodine rains down on Glasgow, a present from @#$%ushima, even George Monbiot now thinks nuclear power is a jolly good idea. But we’re not going to have a say in the matter, are we? – we’re all well-boiled little frogs now.
paul.ingrams

But thanks to his tinfoil hat, Paul has been thinking all kinds of shit, and no motherfucker has kicked his door in and taken him away to any of them government Psi-control Centres yet. Not everyone has been so lucky, however…

“I knew something was very wrong the moment George Monbiot wandered through the back door one day, still wearing his pyjamas, with glassy eyes, flyaway hair and a wet chin.

“‘George?’ I said. ‘You look frightful, old boy. What’s the matter?’

“Staring blankly over my head into the middle distance, George spoke with a voice as flat as my kitchen table: ‘citizen. I have come to tell you about the miracle of nuclear power. Nuclear power is efficient, clean and 100% safe. Nuclear power. This message was brought to you by BNFL plc. Power to you, power to the government. Good day, fellow citizen, I have enjoyed our conversation.’ Then he simply faded into thin air. Gone.

“Well, I thought to myself, this is all very strange. So I decided to post something on the internet about it. But of course, I couldn’t get on the internet. Apparently, you need an internet connection to do that… Yes, convenient, isn’t it? So then I thought, I know! I’ll call the Times news desk, see if they’ll be interested in taking up the story. But I didn’t have a telephone, you see. Or a working line.

“Okay. Not a problem. I’ll ask to borrow a neighbour’s. I was outside before I remembered that I live alone on a tiny, windswept island in the middle of the Atlantic, with no boat or, indeed, any form of transportation.

“I can tell you that sinister forces were at work that day.”

Tinfoil Hat!
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