Imagine
A kind of a poem
What a country this would be to live in then, can’t you see?
that wee willy William is getting down with the proles
making out he understands those on the dole.
He’s banished his uncle to the Sandringham Estate; the
Epstein files have turned him into a two and eight (state)
What’s with the hate for people who have less than you
fleeing war and persecution because they want your life?
Replacement Theory?
If we replaced the Monarchy and the House of Lords there’d
be cake for us all.
But you’re still outside the Bell Hotel in Epping waiting to
pounce to call them a nonce!
Freud who fled to Britain because he was a Jew might say
that you are projecting.
Projectile vomiting your hate on to others because you hate
yourself so much.
You weren’t bothered about the flag until you heard about
the numbers.
The hundreds and thousands that had you shinning up a lamppost
with St George
Don’t tell me about Christmas and insist I wear a poppy.
I’ve run out of swear words you’re just kind of soppy.
You’re just looking for excuses for your sorry excuse for a life.
Your tattoos, your cans and your crumbling teeth a testament
to Britain at its best
Seriously when are you going to stop with this hate fest?
because you’ve stirred up Elon Musk and Rupert Lowe, Paul
Thorpe & Richard Inman, Paz 49 and Andy the Gabby Cabby,
Nick Tenconi, the Poundshop Mussolini
You won’t be happy until Nigel Farage and Tommy Robinson get
a room.
Whether Nigel’s the top and Tommy the bottom
Let me tell you mate, something in the state of ‘No Mark’ is
fucking rotten.
Cunt.
