Pondering the way that there's always one woman so taken with the music that she climbs on her partner's shoulders, takes off her t-shirt and shakes her boobs, I think back to last year and the shouts of "Stop that, you're at midnight mass" and "Gran, for pity's sake!"
Enough of the Twitter cesspit, I'm leaving. There are many good people here but the floods of vile Muskian lies drown them out.
So long and thanks for all the fash π
Big Ben silent as the fingers of fascism pick the scabs of scaremongering. Capt Reeves tells mess orderlies that they can no longer take home day-old bread rolls. as they are to be used to make bread and butter pudding for bankers. US raisin magnates are poised to help. Crusty.
Tommy Robinson not guilty of terror offence after not giving police access to his phone.
Bloody stupid decision to charge him: he'll now be further emboldened and his hooligan followers have another grievance to add to their concocted list.
Big Ben silent as the bowler of bombast hits the stumps of starvation. Capt Reeves refuses to speak so has to mime her breakfast order to mess staff. Raw kippers in cod liver oil is an imaginative choice. Gen Starmer denies he's ever been to Normandy on a plane. Urbanista.
Young Albert quietly wheeled his bike through the ruined streets of Midsomer, determined to deliver the Hovis to the Big House without being spotted by the Sharia raiders.
Big Ben silent as the crack of crypto drives the president of preening. Gen Starmer tells a select few that he has been offered a gold toilet for No 10 if he bombs Venezuela and a matching toilet roll holder if he kills a few thousand Nigerians. Capt Reeves advises against.
@Kash_Patel Youβre taking innocent people off the streets, you've done sod all about the fentanyl crisis, you haven't touched a cartel, you're arresting children and you've not touched terrorists. You're an incompetent fake.