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- Feb 10, 2009
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January is the most depressing month of the year in the UK. The weather is fucking awful, most people are back at work, short of money after Christmas and the summer holidays are so far away you need binoculars to see them. If Meg and Harry think the average person is going to have much sympathy for their, "problems", they are sadly mistaken. The average view is probably something along the lines off,
"Don't let the door hit your arse on the way out, you ungrateful, whinging Yank cunt. And make sure you take that pussy-whipped, Ginger tosser with you".
Any sympathy the public has will most likely be reserved for the Queen, a 93 year old woman who's husband is on his last legs, who's son has been crucified - rightly so, but it can't have been a pleasant thing for her to witness - because his best friend was a sex offender of Jimmy Savile proportions and who now has to deal with this pair of entitled twats
"Don't let the door hit your arse on the way out, you ungrateful, whinging Yank cunt. And make sure you take that pussy-whipped, Ginger tosser with you".
Any sympathy the public has will most likely be reserved for the Queen, a 93 year old woman who's husband is on his last legs, who's son has been crucified - rightly so, but it can't have been a pleasant thing for her to witness - because his best friend was a sex offender of Jimmy Savile proportions and who now has to deal with this pair of entitled twats