My previous posting was seen to be "anti-American", so this is to be even-handed!
castles history battles bravery monarchs of every hue
(not really, only whities) and so much more as immortalised
in the words of the fucking bard of fucking avon
to be or not to be that is indeed the fucking question
except it's a question english schoolchildren
wouldn't be able to answer having been mis-educated
by a load of lefty bastards who could hardly spell
their own fucking names right if they tried a couple of times
and how proud we should be of our great history
remembering how once upon a time not so very fucking long ago
a quarter of the atlas was coloured pink and was ours
india south africa australia new zealand and cold canada
all ours ours ours all ours to plunder and colonise
raping and killing off the nignogs and currymunchers
carting back the goodies to pack out our stately homes
and laughing about the funny unwashed fuzzy-wuzzies
we'd left lying in the poverty-stricken dirt and dust
outside their rotten little disease-ridden mudhuts
except that of course the crushed indian civilisation
was about a thousand years older than ours
but who cared a flying fuck they were brownies
and did not really count compared to proud brits
and it's not as though the nice english upper classes
were exactly kind to their fellow countrymen is it now
after all remember when england's navy ruled the waves
and englishmen would never ever be slaves or knaves
well that wasn't totally true was it because the crews
of britain's navy were press-ganged and subject to inhuman
punishments right left and centre for not touching their
greasy forelocks fast enough as an officer came mincing by
keel-haul that man mr midshipman! and then a few dozen
strokes of the jolly old cat o nine tails will teach him
just what a worthless piece of shit he is god save the king!
and victorian england oh what a brave new world that was
(another Shakespeare quote how important that fucker is)
where little boys climbed up and down narrow chimneys
getting all sorts of nasty diseases in their nasty little working class
lungs
but who cares lots more where they came from
why dontcha know the working classes copulate like animals
and we're just doing them a favour letting their ugly offspring
die before their time and in any case what about our justice system
which was and is the envy of the entire civilised world
what sort of justice was it which sentenced children to death
for stealing a loaf of bread even when the midget queen
sat on her fucking jewel-encrusted throne in splendour
and judges shoving thousands of starving men and women into
the prison hulks lying in the polluted thames waiting for a ship
to transport them in chains to new south wales or tasmania
can you bloody well imagine it only the aristocratic english
could discover australia and not realise what a lovely place it really
was
and instead use it as a dumping ground for convicted felons
which explains why all australians are just a load of jumped-up
convicts with no more manners than a flatulent carthorse
and england yields to no one in terms of religious persecution
drag those catholics to the fucking stake pour scorn and hate on jews
why even lovely william shakespeare our national treasure
and single greatest contribution to language and literature
hardly had many good words to say about poor old shylock
and charlie dickens portrayed fagin rather well I think as an evil
hooknosed probably pederastic pickpocketing old abuser
and that leads me on to pederasty a fine olde englishe sport
much beloved and praised in our leading public schools of yore
they say the battle of waterloo was won on the playing fields of eton
more like in the school lavatories judging from the pained
expression on obliging young laddies' faces as their elders and betters
ritually sodomised them in the absence of anything tastier on offer
oh bugger me I seem to have been concentrating on england alone
and never mentioned bonnie scotland that northern extremity and wild
place
that dour land of mist and heather and whisky and phoney kilts
well what a fucking dump apart from the scenery which is nice
if you like that sort of thing but the poor crofters didn't have much
time to look at the mighty purrrrrrple mountains and the lovely glens
when the king's soldiers came and set fucking fire to their smelly
dwellings
and butchered their kiddies and fucked the living daylights
out of their women so as to provide some material for hollywood films
made by stupid assholes to pander to lowgrade tastes
in a cinema near you one day in the future oh dear me yes
and now how about wales I hear you ask well what about it
a load of stupid coal-faced dwarves singing silly songs in hideous
brick-built nonconformist chapels in the valleys so green
apart from the horrid slagheaps and ill-ventilated mines below
another chance for a warm and sentimental film about god-fearing folks
look you boyo taffy wearing silly druidic hats and with a twelve-inch
leek
shoved up their arses to twist their skinny inbred mouths to get their
lips
around their tongue-contorting so-called language and everyone
hates the welsh stupid little whingeing bastards even nowadays
why anyone ever let them out of their filthy coalmines god alone knows
at least the first world war allowed us get rid of a few of them
and a well-planned process of denigration over hundreds of years
has left them well at the bottom of the social pecking order
it really is the kiss of death for anyone in public life to talk
with a singsong taffy accent as everyone laughs till they shit
themselves
one must not forget dear beautiful ireland john bull's other island
as that garrulous bearded boring old fart george bernard shaw
so very eloquently put it in some dreary dragged-out play or other
well ireland's green and lovely land has certainly seen its share
of england's bile from time fucking immemorial yes indeed
I think you'll find we have had to teach the paddies a ting or two
or tree and begorrah but they do not seem to get it into their
wee thick skulls that they are just a load of illiterate micks only fit
for building roads and fighting in the trenches and dying
and having their thatched cottages set fire to because
they would not pay their rent to the absent english landlord
and what with the potato famine and whatever else they bellyached about
can you really blame them for buggering off to america
so as to import criminality into the new york police department
and what about the black and tans what a lovely load
of oul' fellers they were and all and all and why the hell
should proud england give the green fenians the time of day
no wonder the i.r.a. had so little difficulty in recruiting
and now at last we come to the twenty first century and let's survey
our lovely land this sceptre'd isle this britain this jewel set
in the cold grey north sea which keeps the wogs out or at least
it kept the huns out in the war but no longer as we needed to ship in
a load of blacks and browns to do the dirty rotten jobs we were
to proud and or lazy to do our fucking selves in the fifties and sixties
and look where it's got us now what a totally grand fuck up
we've got smelly jamaican ghettos in every major city where you
really cannot walk about without getting a machete in your back
and the noise of murderous rap booms out of pink-painted
battered old fords without any proper insurance or road tax
and the police are too shit-scared to do anything in case they
get accused of racial harassment in by slimy leftist politicians
and there's untold millions of hardworking indians and pakis
working every hour which god in his infinite fucking mercy sends
so much so that in some urban areas you can barely breathe
for the stench of stale vindaloo made out of neighbourhood moggies
and the fascist newspapers stir up hatred with lying stories
of a new wave of scrounging eastern europeans bent on stealing
the welfare state handouts which are every underclass briton's
natural birthright so let's all go and join the british national party
which wants britain for the british (whites only no darkies please)
and yet the middle classes retain control mainly by embracing
and including people previous generations would have never deigned
to blow their educated nostrils' content out upon even in time of war
and so these be-jeaned and bejewelled scum strut around vainly
bellowing a load of loud-mouthed shit into their mobile phones
and looking forward to another mindless evening in front of their tv
sets
watching pulp garbage pumped out by media moguls and lapping up
celebrity news about unknown sluts whose only claim to fame
is that they may or may not have been shagged by a football player
oh my god I forgot football that all-levelling game played by overpaid
louts and one of the few areas where it's ok to be a coon as long
as you can kick a ball straight and three cheers for enger-land enger-
land
as yet again our brave lads lose out in the stupid game we invented
and have a pity on the poor germans who have to put up with the million
or so pot-bellied beer-soaked tattooed flabby freaks we call football
fans
and this is what the british tourist authority wittily invites the world
to come and sample and be overcharged for as an added benefit
come friendly al-quaida bombs and cleanse britain's augean stables of
this filth
and restore my country to what it was in good olde englande's golden
days of glory
Poetry by Edna Sweetlove
Read 1240 times
Written on 2006-11-02 at 22:04
Tags Humour Love History
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
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Print text
Let's praise great Britannia's golden days of now and then
dear olde englande, basking in her glorious pastcastles history battles bravery monarchs of every hue
(not really, only whities) and so much more as immortalised
in the words of the fucking bard of fucking avon
to be or not to be that is indeed the fucking question
except it's a question english schoolchildren
wouldn't be able to answer having been mis-educated
by a load of lefty bastards who could hardly spell
their own fucking names right if they tried a couple of times
and how proud we should be of our great history
remembering how once upon a time not so very fucking long ago
a quarter of the atlas was coloured pink and was ours
india south africa australia new zealand and cold canada
all ours ours ours all ours to plunder and colonise
raping and killing off the nignogs and currymunchers
carting back the goodies to pack out our stately homes
and laughing about the funny unwashed fuzzy-wuzzies
we'd left lying in the poverty-stricken dirt and dust
outside their rotten little disease-ridden mudhuts
except that of course the crushed indian civilisation
was about a thousand years older than ours
but who cared a flying fuck they were brownies
and did not really count compared to proud brits
and it's not as though the nice english upper classes
were exactly kind to their fellow countrymen is it now
after all remember when england's navy ruled the waves
and englishmen would never ever be slaves or knaves
well that wasn't totally true was it because the crews
of britain's navy were press-ganged and subject to inhuman
punishments right left and centre for not touching their
greasy forelocks fast enough as an officer came mincing by
keel-haul that man mr midshipman! and then a few dozen
strokes of the jolly old cat o nine tails will teach him
just what a worthless piece of shit he is god save the king!
and victorian england oh what a brave new world that was
(another Shakespeare quote how important that fucker is)
where little boys climbed up and down narrow chimneys
getting all sorts of nasty diseases in their nasty little working class
lungs
but who cares lots more where they came from
why dontcha know the working classes copulate like animals
and we're just doing them a favour letting their ugly offspring
die before their time and in any case what about our justice system
which was and is the envy of the entire civilised world
what sort of justice was it which sentenced children to death
for stealing a loaf of bread even when the midget queen
sat on her fucking jewel-encrusted throne in splendour
and judges shoving thousands of starving men and women into
the prison hulks lying in the polluted thames waiting for a ship
to transport them in chains to new south wales or tasmania
can you bloody well imagine it only the aristocratic english
could discover australia and not realise what a lovely place it really
was
and instead use it as a dumping ground for convicted felons
which explains why all australians are just a load of jumped-up
convicts with no more manners than a flatulent carthorse
and england yields to no one in terms of religious persecution
drag those catholics to the fucking stake pour scorn and hate on jews
why even lovely william shakespeare our national treasure
and single greatest contribution to language and literature
hardly had many good words to say about poor old shylock
and charlie dickens portrayed fagin rather well I think as an evil
hooknosed probably pederastic pickpocketing old abuser
and that leads me on to pederasty a fine olde englishe sport
much beloved and praised in our leading public schools of yore
they say the battle of waterloo was won on the playing fields of eton
more like in the school lavatories judging from the pained
expression on obliging young laddies' faces as their elders and betters
ritually sodomised them in the absence of anything tastier on offer
oh bugger me I seem to have been concentrating on england alone
and never mentioned bonnie scotland that northern extremity and wild
place
that dour land of mist and heather and whisky and phoney kilts
well what a fucking dump apart from the scenery which is nice
if you like that sort of thing but the poor crofters didn't have much
time to look at the mighty purrrrrrple mountains and the lovely glens
when the king's soldiers came and set fucking fire to their smelly
dwellings
and butchered their kiddies and fucked the living daylights
out of their women so as to provide some material for hollywood films
made by stupid assholes to pander to lowgrade tastes
in a cinema near you one day in the future oh dear me yes
and now how about wales I hear you ask well what about it
a load of stupid coal-faced dwarves singing silly songs in hideous
brick-built nonconformist chapels in the valleys so green
apart from the horrid slagheaps and ill-ventilated mines below
another chance for a warm and sentimental film about god-fearing folks
look you boyo taffy wearing silly druidic hats and with a twelve-inch
leek
shoved up their arses to twist their skinny inbred mouths to get their
lips
around their tongue-contorting so-called language and everyone
hates the welsh stupid little whingeing bastards even nowadays
why anyone ever let them out of their filthy coalmines god alone knows
at least the first world war allowed us get rid of a few of them
and a well-planned process of denigration over hundreds of years
has left them well at the bottom of the social pecking order
it really is the kiss of death for anyone in public life to talk
with a singsong taffy accent as everyone laughs till they shit
themselves
one must not forget dear beautiful ireland john bull's other island
as that garrulous bearded boring old fart george bernard shaw
so very eloquently put it in some dreary dragged-out play or other
well ireland's green and lovely land has certainly seen its share
of england's bile from time fucking immemorial yes indeed
I think you'll find we have had to teach the paddies a ting or two
or tree and begorrah but they do not seem to get it into their
wee thick skulls that they are just a load of illiterate micks only fit
for building roads and fighting in the trenches and dying
and having their thatched cottages set fire to because
they would not pay their rent to the absent english landlord
and what with the potato famine and whatever else they bellyached about
can you really blame them for buggering off to america
so as to import criminality into the new york police department
and what about the black and tans what a lovely load
of oul' fellers they were and all and all and why the hell
should proud england give the green fenians the time of day
no wonder the i.r.a. had so little difficulty in recruiting
and now at last we come to the twenty first century and let's survey
our lovely land this sceptre'd isle this britain this jewel set
in the cold grey north sea which keeps the wogs out or at least
it kept the huns out in the war but no longer as we needed to ship in
a load of blacks and browns to do the dirty rotten jobs we were
to proud and or lazy to do our fucking selves in the fifties and sixties
and look where it's got us now what a totally grand fuck up
we've got smelly jamaican ghettos in every major city where you
really cannot walk about without getting a machete in your back
and the noise of murderous rap booms out of pink-painted
battered old fords without any proper insurance or road tax
and the police are too shit-scared to do anything in case they
get accused of racial harassment in by slimy leftist politicians
and there's untold millions of hardworking indians and pakis
working every hour which god in his infinite fucking mercy sends
so much so that in some urban areas you can barely breathe
for the stench of stale vindaloo made out of neighbourhood moggies
and the fascist newspapers stir up hatred with lying stories
of a new wave of scrounging eastern europeans bent on stealing
the welfare state handouts which are every underclass briton's
natural birthright so let's all go and join the british national party
which wants britain for the british (whites only no darkies please)
and yet the middle classes retain control mainly by embracing
and including people previous generations would have never deigned
to blow their educated nostrils' content out upon even in time of war
and so these be-jeaned and bejewelled scum strut around vainly
bellowing a load of loud-mouthed shit into their mobile phones
and looking forward to another mindless evening in front of their tv
sets
watching pulp garbage pumped out by media moguls and lapping up
celebrity news about unknown sluts whose only claim to fame
is that they may or may not have been shagged by a football player
oh my god I forgot football that all-levelling game played by overpaid
louts and one of the few areas where it's ok to be a coon as long
as you can kick a ball straight and three cheers for enger-land enger-
land
as yet again our brave lads lose out in the stupid game we invented
and have a pity on the poor germans who have to put up with the million
or so pot-bellied beer-soaked tattooed flabby freaks we call football
fans
and this is what the british tourist authority wittily invites the world
to come and sample and be overcharged for as an added benefit
come friendly al-quaida bombs and cleanse britain's augean stables of
this filth
and restore my country to what it was in good olde englande's golden
days of glory
Poetry by Edna Sweetlove
Read 1240 times
Written on 2006-11-02 at 22:04
Tags Humour Love History
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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