Gossip from across the channel

Written by galgar

Monday, 31 May 2010

Due to the extensive election fever that has gripped the nation and the sad loss of ugly Benda, many seem to have forgotten about that other bunch of thieving comedians across the English Channel (soon to be officially renamed the European Ditch because the Frogs and Krauts find the term English deeply offensive) who are hell bent on sabotaging the British economy by sending all of their deadbeats over here to take advantage of the benefits denied the indigenous inhabitants.

Several Europeans and two dyslexic Brits found Nigel Farage's remarks directed against EU President the late Herman Von Rumpuy rather distasteful. The poor man can't help how he looks or sounds; it's all in the genes so blame his parentage. Although a trip to any half decent hairdresser might go some way to changing his appearance because it truly needs urgent attention and that shouldn't cost very much, but it certainly could if he runs true to form and charges it to his open ended expense account.

I watched and listened to one of his speeches on the net and was appalled by the ineptitude of the creature and suggest that he fires his scriptwriter immediately and demands a full refund. A half pissed rottweiler with a lousy command of English would be a much better bet and probably slightly more literate.

The ill fitting Butcher Blair type of the peg suit also leaves much to be desired and I won't mention his hideously garish ties. Thankfully his feet were not on show otherwise I might have thrown up before I switched off. A pair of size fifteen web toed feet crammed into patent leather shoes makes him look like an out of work scuba diver.

Jokes aside folks, he looks like a refugee from madame whatsernames waxworks... or his he still there on show handcuffed to the plinth with the dummy out on the loose?

A large brown paper bag with three holes cut in it would help improve his image. Need I say to be placed over the head when out in public?

Apparently he likes to be dominated and simply adores old fat thighs Merkel and he's been trying like hell to get a date with her. He almost went to pieces when shown a photo of her in her slinky black leather Madame Fuerher outfit complete with little black stick-on moustache, high heels and open crotch panties. He ran of to the nearest loo and floggged himself silly with her imaginary whip then took the rest of the week off to recover.

We all love to fantasize at times and also have our kinky side, but tend to be embarrassed and defensive if asked about it. Even the French president has his little quirks and masquerades as a normal person, wearing platform shoes when he's really a giant dwarf in disguise. One wonders why Carla puts up with having that awful sweaty little thing crawling over her luscious body all night long, especially when he refuses to take his shoes off.

One must feel heartily sorry for the poor old Pope who has had rather a lot of bad press lately regarding his personal handling of several deviant priests over the years. Never forget that he is only human and has yet to meet god even though he is his representative on earth. Even the mere glimpse of an erect phallic symbol is enough to send him into the depths of depression, whatever else such a sight does to him we may never know. Mind you he has spent a lifetime looking down on the unemployed so one must offer a little sympathy because the rather large sagging belly tends to spoil his view nowadays, so he can be excused the phobia. I hear he has engaged a nice new Polish dress designer to help alter his rather tarnished image because the old fashioned long white frocks are quite out of step with the modern world.

Maybe he'd look quite cute in a mini skirt with matching knickers because they are on the way back for the summer season. The rampant varicose veins can be easily touched up with a good quality pan stick make up and with his new image he may even be lucky enough to find a friend. They say he has finally found a way around the problem of randy priests sowing their wild oats in all the wrong places...by turning back the clock and reinstating the nunneries as in ancient times. The church will hopefully make a profit to supplement dwindling collections by opening the nunneries to the public, providing the local madames don't object because they also have to make a living. Only one question remains, how can you have small boys residing in a nunnery without compromising the whole project. Put big boys there instead.

Two Belgian scoutmasters stood pissing in the latrine when one of them rolled back his foreskin and out popped a Brussels sprout. "I do wish those young bounders wouldn't gulp their food down without chewing it," said he with a wry grin.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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