Sunday, 12 April 2015
When she's not doing a spot of gardening, or watching repeats of Kojak, Angela Merkel likes nothing more than to dream of ruling Europe.
"War is a terrible thing," she says, but if you've ever been near her when she unleashes one of her violent farts, you'll agree that the gas which seeps from her body is almost as bad as grown men shooting at each other.
Either way, there's a huge shitstorm heading our way, and unless we put a stop to this hideous beast - with her hairy armpits and male genitals - Europe may well one day succumb to Angela, fifty-something, from Berlin, who has a passion for turtles and rough sex*
But what must we do to put this little turd back in her box?
Well, a tsunami would be an effective and cheap way to wash away the land of beer and sausages, but because Germany is in the heart of Europe - there's no chance of a killer wave reaching its cities and towns.
No, what's needed here is a radical approach to a simmering problem.
"But what do you propose?" I hear you cry.
BOMBS, my boy - and lot's of them! Let's bomb these buggers with stale turds, rotton fruit and constipated pigs. Let's unleash our own shitstorm, and cover Germany in the finest human waste our bodies can produce.
"And when should this assault begin?" I hear you ask.
Well, Angela is always at home on Friday afternoons, so Friday afternoon sounds fine to me.
So, bombs away!!! Let's stick two fingers up to Europe's most famous she-boy and let's smile, smile, smile...
*This is how she describes herself on her Facebook profile.
Coming soon: The worst town in England
Saturday, 4 April 2015
There's no denying that global famine is still a problem, which won't go away, unless world leaders do something to tackle the crisis, and help millions of starving people emerge from the shadows of despair and misery.
Why not send millions of pounds in cash to these poor nations, I hear you cry, as you write out a cheque for fifteen pounds, made payable to "END FAMINE IN AFRICA."
Well, yes, this is a very kind thought on your behalf, but are you sure that you're doing the right thing?
Of course you're not! No, what's needed here is some positive action to bring a smile to millions of sad faces throughout the planet. So after guzzling seventeen pints of lager during lunchtime, I have finally come up with a five-point-plan which will end world famine forever.
Number 1: Fast food is fast money to be made. Be the first to open a McDonald's restaurant in Somalia. A simple Happy Meal will for some hopeless child be a HAPPY MEAL!
Number 2: Call your local pizza restaurant tonight and ask for a four seasons special to be flown out to Ethiopia.
Number 3: KFC is finger-licking good! So let's bomb Africa with some of Colonel Saunder's finest flame-grilled chicken wings. Don't forget to add a few family meals, because big families are all the rage in the poorest continent on earth.
Number 4: Open a chain of tex-Mex restaurants in Ethiopia, for a decent spicy meal never did anyone any harm.
Number 5: Do nothing, because the more you give to certain people the more those people want. Instead of lying around all day, having sex and and then sleeping all afternoon, why don't the laziest bastards on the planet get off their fucking backsides, get to work and get their countries out of the shit in which they find themselves.
Yes, charity is a wonderful thing, but for me it BEGINS AT HOME!!!
Next week I'll be focussing on why Germany should be bombed.
Sunday, 22 March 2015
The local population are familiar with the legend surrounding Oxney Bottom, with the legend feeding the fact that Oxney Bottom is considered one of the most haunted places in Great Britain. There are tales of the ghosts of highwaymen being seen on this stretch of road, and numerous accounts of sightings of the Grey Lady, the ghostly image of an old woman seen by the roadside, witnessed by passing motorists. It is for this very reason, that when driving through Oxney Bottom at night, drivers have a habit of accelerating through the bends, because they want to get through Oxney Bottom as quickly possible, to get away from the air of uneasiness which hangs over the place.
Davis Hochard and Emilie Guerin approached Oxney Bottom via a series of fields which run from St. Margaret's Bay to Ringwould. Hochard had read about Oxney Bottom's history, and as he and his French girlfriend walked along a narrow lane, to a wooded area about a mile or so ahead of them, he seemed impatient to discover if there was any truth in the legend. Emilie Guerin, starting to tire from the hike, had no interest in ghosts, but was secretly pleased that their visit to this part of the world was during daylight hours. Hochard stopped briefly, also tired from walking in unseasonally hot sunshine, and smiled when he realised that very soon he would be in the heart of Oxney Bottom.
When the couple arrived at the edge of a heavily wooded area, Emilie Guerin seemed to think that the sky had clouded over. The trees had seemed attractive from a distance, but now, as the sunlight grew weak and feeble, the part of the world in which Davis Hochard and Emilie Guerin found themselves seemed cold, unfriendly and uninviting. However, unperturbed by his girlfriend's lack of enthusiasm, Hochard walked ahead, occasionally looking up at the sinister sky. His rate of breathing increased with every step that he took, as though he was scared but also eager to discover the secrets of Oxney Bottom.
Extract taken from "After Dover" - an ebook about a cold-blooded killer, by Luke Ryman. Now available for Kindle via Amazon
Monday, 9 March 2015
The drive from Calais to the Normandy coast had taken just under four hours. Deano had raced Phil all the way, with Deano’s silver Mercedes claiming victory over Phil’s ageing BMW, when the two cars finally arrived at a charming village, not too far away from Bayeux.
“Is this it?” enquired Clare, as she peered through a rusty gate.
“Yep!” replied Deano, enthusiastically, as he looked through the gate to get a better look at the property at the end of the drive. “This is going to be our home for the next two weeks.”
Phil and Sarah joined their two friends at the gate, and avoiding dirtying her top, Sarah leaned forward to get a better view of the house.
“It looks old, doesn’t it, Deano?” said Sarah, as she tried hard to focus on the building which had become the centre of their attention. “It’s looks big and old.”
“This is a typical Normandy property,” replied Deano, as he pushed open the gate. “This is where we’re going to get a real taste of France.”
“Did you notice that everything’s shut?” said Sarah, as she took hold of Phil’s hand, before following Deano and Clare along a narrow path. “All the shops are shut and the village is dead.”
“What were you expecting?” snapped Clare. “Did you think that in rural Normandy it’s all shopping centres and casinos?”
Everything's shut and there's not a supermarket in sight. What a fine holiday this will be in Bloody France! Get "But Bloody France!" - part 1 of the trilogy - for your Kindle, via Amazon, and see just how Deano, Clare, Phil and Sarah will try and amuse themselves in a village which time has forgot.
Get the whole trilogy in one ebook - "Clare's Holiday" - out NOW!
Saturday, 21 February 2015
But how are we going to do it?
MAKE EUROPE BETTER!!!
Well, here's a list of ideas which might just make the European continent a better place:
1: Bomb Greece
2: Close the Channel tunnel
3: Bomb Portugal
4: Bomb Scotland
5: Bomb Spain
6: Rename Europe The Unites States of Great Britain
7: Bomb Germany - preferably when Angela Merkel is at home
8: Find something else for Francois Hollande to do
9: Sell Malta to the highest bidder on e-bay
10: Bomb China and Russia
COMING NEXT WEEK: How to tackle famine in Africa.