I used to love Britain.
Do you remember it ?
That place where a goalie playing football could break his neck mid game, eat half an orange, be swabbed with a mouldy sponge and carry on playing to the end of the game with just a plaster on the section of his spine protruding.
That has been replaced by football playing ponces that kick a ball about for 10 minutes doused in rare oils and spices, followed by fawning catemites waving ferns and fronds over their slightly sweaty body and who will lay on the pitch and cry if a cuticle is damaged.
Overpaid Ponces they are called.
Today we have what I call Brookers Britain.
A simpering, pathetic land of twitting fuckwits, facebook posting arsewipes and simpering metrosexuals that are about as masculine as a former Russian female shot putter.
The only men in the metrosexual ranks are the women.
I used to love the British stiff upper lip, now we have the metro-sexual droopy dick.
Half Men with hormonal problems following the inane twittings of their latest trendy hero like flys follow a turd stuck on a runaway roller skate. FUCKING PATHETIC.
Read the comments from the Window Lickers Army of Charlie Brooker on my blog articles.
These spermless ciphers are the future of Britain.
WE ARE FUCKED.
I am impressed that most of them, no doubt university students ( aka brainwashed lemmings ) can spell 'cunt' (which they seem to enjoy calling me) let alone know what one is (except if they looked in the mirror).
This army of pussy-phobic shemale shirt lifters that follow Charlie and eagerly await his next twit on their 'oh so trendy' latest mobile phones are frankly a complete fucking embarassment.
I have to sit next to them on the tube.
They often wear huge ear phones, carry a satchel, wear a sock on their heads and all look like that cunt Chris Martin from Coldplay.
Twattus Sapiens, a new sub species of the race.
Jesus, I hate fucking Chris Martin and Coldplay.
Him whining ' My bird leeeft meeee ' makes me want to vomit.
Anyone who spends all their time writing songs about how much they love their wife/ girlfriend or writing songs with lyrics about, ' My girlfriend left me and now I am having a breadkdown', is a fucking poof.
Coldplay are the pop equivalent of spam.
A sort of 'like music, but not really' noise that you know 'trendy' muppets like to play to show their 'feelings'.
Anway back to the metro-sexual knobhead on the tube - okay we know you have an IPod and you like shit and cheesy drum and bass.
But if you play it any louder I will reach over, rip your fucking lungs from your chest and paint the carriage red with your intestines.
I dont want to hear what shit you are listening too.
I would rather hear your last gurgling breath as you pray for deliverance from my fury to the great god of simpering arse bandits.
I often fantasise about strangling them with the wires of their Ipods whilst Goldie drops a phat beat into their ears ands they slowly turn blue and vanish into dickhead oblivion.
Satre said hell was other people.
He was wrong.
Hell is where the metro-sexuals gather, that herd of sad ladyboys, oiling and preening their hairless faces, shaving their legs and chest hairs and busy twitting each other about the latest lack of a life news.
I want the old Britain back.
A land where real men and women lived, not these facimilies of real people, these mindless, souless ciphers whose entire personalities who can be replaced with a micro-chip of media conditoning that roam the streets like some zombie army of the undead.
Millions of disposable plastic people with the same disposable plastic personalities each transmitting their inane lives to each other via a fog of electronic bullshit.
Yes, I hate you as much as you hate me.
But at least I have managed to achieve a personality ( even if I am a horrible, nasty man and a 'waaaaaccciiissstt' as you define it ), whilst you are a bunch of insipid knobheads who have the personality solely of the latest technological device and the latest fashion fad.
So fuck off you non-entitry dickheads.
You aint even real.
You are just the souless product of another wankers marketing campaign.