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My Sodding Christmas Message

Well, for once the tight fuckers took me with them to a cottage by the sea. Went walkies on the beach every day, fucking freezing it was. The tight bastards. They kept chucking a stick in the bastard North Sea for me to go and fetch. The North Fucking Sea. In bastard December. There were some complete wankers all dressed up in black in there already too (I think they must have been The Muslim Womens Ironing Board Formation Swimming Team or something). So I wasn't in there on me own, freeing my little bollocks off I was. No sooner had I got meself dry by the fire then they were dragging me back out again. The heartless twats. I'd have got more rest in Stalag 45, or the kennels as they call it. Got to go to the pub on Christmas Day. Fucking packed it was. Biscuits, that's all I got for me Christmas Dinner. Fucking bastard biscuits. No chance of a fucking pig in a blanket for me. No siree. Bastard dry buggering biscuits. Not even a fucking splash of gravy, nor kiss my arse. Dry pissing biscuits. The dirty tight bastards. Merry Fucking Christmas, my arse. Fucking hate the thing I do, loads of old people wandering aimlessly round the fucking shops. They don't know what they're looking for. Haven't got a fucking Scoobie Doo. Just wandering, sloooowly, picking things up staring at them, and putting them down again. Get out of my fucking way you wankers, and get back to your old people's home. Women with prams, and small children who can hardly walk. Why drag them round the fucking shops? Get to high fuck. Gangs of kids, talking loudly. They think they're all grown up, so they talk LOUDLY. LOOK AT ME I'M SO GROWN UP I CAN GO INTO TOWN ON ME OWN. ON THE FUCKING BUS. WITHOUT ME MUM. They've got no money, but they're in twon anyway, clogging up the fucking streets. Fuck off you idle twats. Then there's the fucking Big Issue sellers from fucking Romania or wherever they're from. Me Dad teases them. Every time one waves her fucking magazine in front of him and says "Big Issue" me Dad says "Bless, you" and offers them a tissue. That confuses the fuck out of them. The foreign bastards. They come over here, undercutting our British Big Issue sellers. The tight foreign bastards. Ho, ho, fucking ho. Be glad when it's all over, me.

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