Saturday, 12 June 2004

Upper Class Tossers

 Mindless twats on horseback

There is a certain breed of braying, chinless, Rupert out there who considers the pursuit, torture and slaughter of animals for entertainment a God given right. I do not particularly mind that the animal is chased, or tortured, or slaughtered. But I have the decency to stick it between two slices of bread and eat it. On a good day I will even cook it first. I am what is called a pot hunter. To the Ruperts, this is one step down from a child rapist. (For the Ruperts breeding with your own family members has been a way of life for generations).

Because normal, upstanding, citizens of this country abhor such foul practices, these chinless wonders descended on the capital to protest at the attacks on their way of life. Barley and beef barons dragged themselves from their ancestral piles to bitch and whine how hard life was for them. These monsters that have turned the green fields of Britain into vast monocultures, whose unspeakable farming practices caused the BSE and Foot and Mouth disasters, whose illegal dumping of nitrates and sheep dip have wiped out thousands of native species, have the nerve to complain about THEIR way of life. Well boo hoo.

They complain about the lack of local shops, yet their closure is because rapacious cunts like them jump into their Range Rovers every week and drive a hundred miles to the nearest Tesco superstore to do all their shopping. The lack of public transport and police stations angers them, ignoring the fact that it was these self serving, avaricious wankers voting the conservatives into power for 20 years that got them all cut in the first place. They want more civic amenities. Well, Einstein,you don't live in a fucking city, you live in the fucking countryside, that is what living in the countryside is all about. If you want broken down and boarded up leisure centres surrounded by crack heads and prostitutes, move to some shit hole like Birmingham.

You think you have got it tough just because the majority of voters in this country want to stop your vile and detestable practise of using dogs to rip wild animals to pieces? Well try living on a council estate in Moss Side or Cheetham Hill for a couple of years. Your paltry collection of shotguns is going to look pretty pathetic compared to the range of firearms they have down there. And make sure you grind the foresight off, you will be glad you did when it comes to removing it from your arse hole.

The next time I am enjoying my right to roam across the hills and valleys of my own country and some stuck up cow looking at me through her teeth tells me I am trespassing, I am going to take my Stanley knife, completely ruin her shit, then in my best yokel accent say.

"Sorry miss, but you aint be understanding our city ways!"

So go on, march, the more you march the less we care. Nobody gives a flying fuck about you. Here is something useful you can do. Take your web footed inbred children with you and march over the edge of a cliff, it will give us all a laugh.

Welcome to the consequences of your own fucking greed.