Friday, 13 July 2012

What did your last slave die of?

[singing] Ru-pert, Rupert the bear, everyone sing his name! Nobody was more surprised  than I to hear what Rupert's Bear's friends, the dear old gypsies, have been up to. After all, the loveable Romany rascals are renowned for their deep sense of social justice and their celebration of diversity, with the odd big, fat wedding or bare-knuckle fight thrown in for shits and giggles.

But it seems that, what with the lucky heather and clothes peg trade being in decline and all, this much-maligned, yet gravely misunderstood community has had to reluctantly resort to slavery to make ends meet. Surprised, I said, but really Rupert and I were shocked! I mean we had no idea that these normally exemplary, law-abiding folk, who never do any more harm than cleaning up the odd tonne or two of live copper cable from along the railway embankments as they go about their traditional a-roaming, could ever contemplate such a thing.

Rupert told me he's afraid that, as well as lawless racist thugs, inbred retards and thieves they'll now be branded as slave traders too. I put him straight though and told him that such a thing would be a grave slur on their traditionally peaceable character. They're not slave traders at all, Rupert, I said; they're slave owners. A very different thing altogether, I'm sure you'll agree.

Rupert then asked me how low we have sunk when in the name of diversity we can tolerate these sub-human worms. The same applies, Rupert said, to all those seeking to impose radical Islamic on the UK, plunder our savings, import criminals from the east or squander our national wealth on supporting the European Marxist project. I replied that he couldn't consolidate all these disparate groups into one convenient hate target, but he said he could and he bloody well would. And then he stomped off to go and have a rant with Tiger Lily.

But he has a point, hasn't he? There is something deeply wrong with a society so afraid of giving offence that we shrink from a solemn duty to protect out shores and our citizens and our way of life from such invasions, liberty-taking and wrong-doings. Instead, I work all my life and end up with nothing except an obligation to keep paying for the cunts; whichever particular branch of cuntery they espouse.

So, next time you have a slave turn up at your door and ask, in the traditional Roma accent, "Would y'be after wanting y're droive Tarmacced, bejaysus?" you might want to consider that we're all slaves now and ask yourself how we got into this godawful mess. More particularly, what do we intend to do to dig ourselves out and do we, as a society, actually have the stomach for it?

We put down dangerous animals. Humans are the most dangerous animals there are and more dangerous still when there is no perceived restraint to their activities. Those who most endanger our society, by whatever means, should not be given mere prison sentences, they should be locked down forever, or else transported, preferably to Rockall or a desert, or better still left to dangle from the end of a rope.

Do have a lovely weekend. xxx


  1. Actually, not Romanies, but what we used to call when I was a boy - Diddicoi or Diddacoi, (various spellings are available), the travellers of largely irish descent who have been so maligned in the My Big Fat Gypsy etc and who are so adept at by passing the planning system and avbusing others with the help of Human Rights legislation. But then they can afford the best lawyers, though from whence their wealth comes, one knows not.

  2. I'll bet our Romany friends are cock-a-hoop at the Govt's recent announcement of their plans to electrify the Midland Main Line between Sheffield & London.....

    They'll be 'copperin' up' with gay abandon.

    Oh what Joy!