What Exactly Does It Mean To Be Brave?
ChatterBank1 min ago
Join with me - vive la revolutión
89 Answers
In today's society it's so easy to get stressed out by the feckless and the clueless, the sick, the lame, and the lazy. Everywhere I turn I see the products of a generation of failure. At work, on the road, in the pub, in Tescos, at home. Society is crumbling.
I'm not just talking about idle chavs, job-stealing foreigners, champagne socialists, greedy capitalists, weak-willed middle classes, or inbred aristocracy. I'm talking about everyone. You, me, your mum, my dog. Everyone. We are all turdmunching polypfaced fungal-cheese. None of us deserve to live in this Great Britain. Nobody is worthy of breathing the sweet beautiful air, or walking on it's fertile soil. We are the greatest species of parasite in the whole of creation.
So, my solution to every problem in Broken Britain is to kill everyone. Just think how beautiful this place would be without people. No speed cameras, no benefit-cheats, no NHS waiting times, no lying politicians, no clogged roads, no bent coppers, no arrogant bankers. Nobody. It would make this nation into a utopia.
So, in the interests of the preservation of our way of life, I implore you to go postal on your neighbours, get all Chuck Norris on your coworkers, open a can of whoop-ass on a random little old lady in the street. Then, when everyone else is queuing at the pearly gates, the last man standing can do the honourable thing and celebrate his victory and the survival of his nation by falling onto his sword.
So come, my fellow Brits. In the honour of Churchill, of Nelson, of Thatcher and of Blair, follow me into mass murder and genocide.
This has been a party political broadcast by the Rioja Party.
I'm not just talking about idle chavs, job-stealing foreigners, champagne socialists, greedy capitalists, weak-willed middle classes, or inbred aristocracy. I'm talking about everyone. You, me, your mum, my dog. Everyone. We are all turdmunching polypfaced fungal-cheese. None of us deserve to live in this Great Britain. Nobody is worthy of breathing the sweet beautiful air, or walking on it's fertile soil. We are the greatest species of parasite in the whole of creation.
So, my solution to every problem in Broken Britain is to kill everyone. Just think how beautiful this place would be without people. No speed cameras, no benefit-cheats, no NHS waiting times, no lying politicians, no clogged roads, no bent coppers, no arrogant bankers. Nobody. It would make this nation into a utopia.
So, in the interests of the preservation of our way of life, I implore you to go postal on your neighbours, get all Chuck Norris on your coworkers, open a can of whoop-ass on a random little old lady in the street. Then, when everyone else is queuing at the pearly gates, the last man standing can do the honourable thing and celebrate his victory and the survival of his nation by falling onto his sword.
So come, my fellow Brits. In the honour of Churchill, of Nelson, of Thatcher and of Blair, follow me into mass murder and genocide.
This has been a party political broadcast by the Rioja Party.
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I'll do it when it's all gone quiet, last one on the sword etc. I'd rather have the Utopia and let the great unwashed (as mentioned above) leave in an orderley queue if that is possible, although I wouldn't mind if George Clooney hangs back as well. That was the political mandate from the Famous Grouse Party.
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