This whole Prince Charles thing /

I don’t get it. Of course he should write lettters about stuff to ministers. At least it shows he cares (ish). But in return, we should all get to dance around him defacing 2nd class stamps and quoting Marx while specially bred, naked homosexuals are pursued by Human Right’s lawyers riding on illegal immigrants from Uzbekistan as they hunt corgis to feed them genetically modified tomatoes and sing Hot In Herre.

Oh, and there should be an immediate death sentence for anyone who says how great it is that the Prince of Wales (yes, that’s Prince. Of Wales) is speaking for the concerns of The Man In The Street™, when it is quite clear that he is speaking for the concerns of one man in one street. Notably his own street, several hundred miles away from everyone elses streets and protected by an armed guard paid for by The Man In The Street’s Taxes™ and, should anyone try and join him on his street, they’ll probablly be shot.

_chris! // 19:16



I keep feelign sicker every day. It's annoying me. I keep sleeping lots and getting miserable, too. People keep discussing what a tosser I am while i'm sitting by them- I can't work it out, is this postmodern friendship grouping, or am I a Scrubs taping muppet of high extreme order?

Plus I only have, like, 10 minutes to go before I've spent A WHOLE 24 HOURS not hearing Hot In Herre (I have decided that I will ignore the fact that i have ahd it in my hed all day, because I like the sense of achivment). I started wanting to do this around the second time that this songs appeal waned, but
this thread has totally made me love it again. It's a marvelous soung. It uites (almost) all people, and has the word "boadcious". I'm very curious to find out wether it's actually possible to actually hate that word. I wanna sit people in sound proof rooms with big fucking headphones on their heads and get a variety of differently voiced people to say "bodacious" into a microphone and then tape everyone's reactions to it. And then I could poke them with big sticks and set the Big Fucking Ninja Robot on them to trash their homes and love their wives like the Fonz.

And tomorrow I'm gonna duke it out with my HR manager for not paying me enough ( in a "where;'s my pay for last Thursaday?!" way, not a "my mummy says I'm wortyh more then £3.70 an hour!" way) and then love Lucy like the Fonz.

_chris! // 22:49


Something I have noticed recently: Estelle Morris is slowly evoling into eveyrone's worst nitemare- the uber fucking lesbian sex-is-rape feminist drama teacher is her own retelling of the Passion with her in the role of Jesus (because a power carzed lesbian with a perm as the world's saviour is just SO DAMN ORIGINAL) cast, not for her talent, but because she's "most suited to the role".

I never really noticed this 'til, on Newnight, there was a very big picture of her, all lit from a big bright light at her feet, looking so totally betrayed by her disciples that it would have broken my heart if she wasn't jumping up and down on the hopes and dreams of a nation of 17 and 18 year olds shouting Fuck you! No one liked me in high school! No I will ruin all yr. lives! Stomp stomp stomp!! like a fucking pirate.

Which leads me to a new question: why are all the women employed as Secretarie's Of State for Education and Human Resouce Managers in supermarkets raging sociopaths?! They hate people! Specifically, that hate people under the age of 20. They don't like fun, they don't like unexpected deaths in the family, and they don't like it when people make them do their job, becaus it means they can't just bitch about otehr people not doing their job. These people aren't real people. They're horrible. They're dedicated to not ignoring what you say to them, but only hearing very key phrases, and making whole new sentences, without all those pesky negatives like "don't" and "stupid idea" and "just what the fuck?!" and ergo doing the complete and utter opposite of what you just told them. And then they go and tell you they did exactly what you wanted them to do. Which leads me to conclude that they don't use real language, but rather the words are just there to mask the sounds of babies heads on spikes squeek squeek squeek squeek squeek

_chris! // 22:33


Look! Dorothy sums up my motherfucking mood again!

_chris! // 14:25



Yeh, so, it's been a while... I don't care! Buy me this shit for my birthday. Then I might talk to you. MIGHT.

_chris! // 10:04


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