5 June 2011

A freedom of cunts

Nothing a short burst from a machine gun couldn't fix.

We can use the word cunt now as the BBC have decided it's OK. So let's put it to some good use this morning and discuss burglar and arch cunt Wayne Bishop. This chap has been a professional burglar since leaving school and has made the lives of those who live anywhere near him a misery.

He has many many little urchins who are clothed and fed by the tax payer and other people's valuables. He has been released from prison because his human rights afford him the right to a family life. The collective noun for cunts like this in fact now a "freedom."

Now, while I don't know the ins and outs of the case, I'm sure this is bollocks. Listen judicial system, I know you read my blog, the purpose of jail, the initial purpose, is exactly to do just that: to deny criminals their single fundamental right, which is freedom. Which is to say imprison them. It's why it's called prison.

If keeping someone in prison and away from his little sprogs and custard stained tracksuit wearing whore or a wife is a breach of his human rights, then surely prison itself must be done away with as it's the worst kind of human rights contravention?

You can't have it both ways. You either have prison and those that break the law have to accept that when they enter one they can consider themselves "between human rights" until their release. Or we just don't have prisons at all and just call it a day with crime in general and then it's every man for himself, which of course, in reality, is already the case. Just no one has publicly announced it yet. Cunts.

* * *

Now then, since I took the decision some five years ago to spend as much time asleep as possible it of course means the most interesting experiences and occurrences that occur during any given week are my dreams and it's last night's cacophony of nonsense I'd like to discuss now if you'll indulge me.

I'd initially dreamt of something involving Louis from Smallville, but the details are of little consequnce. All you need to know is she wanted it and I nearly gave it to her, but she changed into someone else and then I was suddenly somewhere else anyway and then I woke up as I needed a wee.

Later on I dreamt, instead of boarding a train for some horrible part of London, I'd accidentally boarded the Euro Star train bound for Paris and was heading swiftly towards my doom. This of course is enough to give anyone nightmares (within their nightmares), but it wasn't just the fact that pound for pound the dirtiest most arrogant city in Europe was just an hour away, it was entering the channel tunnel that gave me the willies.

I did not like it. Now then amateur Freudianists, calm down, it's not because I'm scared of nookie or cause vaginas baffle me cause I'm not and they don't - I know that wee comes from a different hole now. And it's not because I can't get an erection either cause I just had one thank you very much. It was not a metaphorical sex dream.

I am simply mildly claustrophobic having once been unable to free myself from a Kagool. And coupled with my Francophobia it became an unbearable incarceration. Even the sort of stewardess girl, who I think was the lovely Anna Sigalevitch from the Piano Teacher, was unable to soothe my concerns.

Where was my yuman rights in that situation eh? Where was the European Judiciary to deliver me from that imprisonement? It can't be right when an honest to goodness law abiding citizen like me can't be rescued from being near France, yet 'orrible burglarising cunt Wayne Bishop is released from prison with an apology and a bag of monies just so he can go home to his rent free four bedroom house to copulate with his grubby misses and add further to the surplus population of the under classes again.

I woke up all sweaty and breathing deeply and is it any wonder? Freedom? I should be so fortunate. Cunts, the lot of them. Gertcha.

You are on ze wrong train Monsieur, would you like un grape?

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