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          And I know. I know I shouldn’t bite. I know this.
        


          Fuckwit bonus points to Andy there, who’s angry that the entire BBC isn’t slavishly reproducing his views and his views alone because he’s paying his £3 a week as part of the license fee.
      
        
          I’m looking at you, person who watched Iron Man on Disney+ a week ago while eating an entire pipe of salt and vinegar pringles, you feckless BASTARD
      
        
          Followed by half an hour about how he and his mates plan to spend next Saturday guarding a statue to stick it to them fucking woke snowflakes
      
        

          Your regular reminder that historically, whenever there’s been a situation with people being bundled into black vans and carted off by armed thugs, there’s always people like this saying some variation of “If they’ve done nothing wrong they’ve got nothing to be afraid of, Mabel.”
      
        
        
          This impressive bit of bullshitting reminds me of an old colleague who once tried to claim - and I swear, ironically enough, that I’m not making this up - that his dad invented gingerbread. 
        
          Personal highlight, where Carole says that the rich tapestry of her life is so rich and so incredible that this sort of thing would ordinarily be so far below her notice as to be barely visible because of the whole richness of the tapestry 
      
        
          Still, get Brexit done, eh?
      
        
          By Eric’s logic, who would be eligible to serve in the armed forces? Cannibals who happen to be okay with animal abuse?
      
        
          Never thinking for a minute that a country with its back to the wall, in wartime, was able to manage to house people in actual houses, so maybe there’s something not quite right about a mega rich country, in peacetime, deciding instead to covert METAL BOXES for people to live in.
      
        
        
          Day 5: Dickie Pinwhistle of Nantwich writes in to demand that in addition to all this, Nigel Farage flies a spitfire over Buckingham Palace while two models in Vera Lynn outfits each wank off a Chelsea Pensioner, one at Land’s End and the other at John ‘o Groats.