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Jacquesstewart

  1. So why am I meant to call them "Travellers" if they're not f***ing travelling anywhere. Gerrof moi land. If not my land, within eyeshot.
  2. That heron is giving me a funny look. Have realised this after four months of staring at it.
  3. I wonder what gruesomely smug rubbish I can post up now. Is the past participle of "tweet" "twat". I suspect it might be. Oh look, a heron.
  4. Why do Terminator robots have teeth?
  5. She must have told everyone she knows, twice. I am going to eat her heart.
  6. I'm on the train. Boring to read. Even more boring to hear, fat bitch opposite.
  7. Wife has cast meaningful sideways glance at me reading the BNP leaflet. This will be an interesting one to explain away.
  8. They're taking their time. Is such slacking what made Britain great? They're letting Britain down. Britain's Got Tossers.
  9. Haven't turned up yet. Probably still shaving their heads, or washing their brains in a thimble.
  10. Which assumes that there are brains to do so, admittedly. Perversely anticipating this now - a row with a fascist dickhead on a sunny day.
  11. Might invite my brother round to talk to them. A gay half-caste Jamaican who works in the "liberal media elite". Hope their brains implode.
  12. Although it might amuse the kids to learn that there are some people who hate their father even before he opens his mouth.
  13. Why on Earth do they think they'll get support in this village? People are more decent than that, surely?
  14. Admittedly the wheelchair willl make this look difficult. Bet they don't notice that, though. They might notice my international beige face.
  15. Apparently they will call back later. I must make sure I am in. Might roll myself a fattie and make it look as if I'm burgling the place.
  16. BNP election leaflet through the door. Of a Jamaican married to an Italian. Really thought that one through, haven't they? Twats.
  17. I wonder who will appear in my brekkie tomorrow? I suspect Steve Irwin. Although part of me thinks Billy Dainty. Suspense is killing me.
  18. I decided that it was Tony Gubba and therefore feel less guilty about spreading his face with jam. Although I suspect Jesus would like that.
  19. It's either Jesus in my toastpattern or it's Charles Manson. Depends how it catches the light. Could actually be Tony Gubba.
  20. Scraping myself into evening dress; drinks part-eh at publisher. Sunday night train into Paddington, cab across town. School night. Giddy.