A side order of sensationalism to go with your bigotry, sir?

I always love reading right-wing, BNP supporting blogs.  You don’t feel guilty when you’re reading them because you know you’re reading them purely for laughs.  I also love WordPress because it somehow associates my blog with theirs.

I recently found this wonderful entry criticizing Harriet Harman’s comments earlier that women were more affected by the economic downturn than men, because I can honestly imagine the author giving himself a hernia through the ceaseless bouts of what I can only hope is mock-rage concerning her comments.  We see a wonderful misproportionalisation of facts and comments taken out of context.

The author seems to think Harriet Harman is trying to create a wedge between men and women by suggesting that women may be more affected by the economic downturn than men.  But it doesn’t stop there, oh no.  The author then gets it into his head that Harman is apparently advocating the destruction and seemingly systematic eradication à-la Nazi Germany of British males.  Where does he get that from?  I don’t know, but it’s rather hilarious.

But the best bit is yet to come.

He calls Harman….wait for it… A MARXIST.

HAHAHAHAHAH.  Oh, my gut did rumble at that one.  Lemme make this straight.  Harman, nor ANYONE from the fucking Labour party is a marxist.  They’re not even proper socialists for chrissakes!
Get your fucking facts straight, you ignorant white-trash cunt.

The Truth Truck Tours England And Stops For Petrol

Coming soon to a small church near you: the BNP’s latest propaganda-wagon: THE TRUTH TRUCK.  This one follows on from the previous post about the BNP’s latest trip to Prague to speak about the alleged “dangers of the European union”.  Enjoy.

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Leader of the BNP Nick Griffin is driving in his latest invention: The Truth Truck – a Volkswagen camper that he bought second hand from a Reg Vardy outlet.  With him in the truck is Bazza, and as they putter down the motorway, they chat about current events.

(Sulking) I still think we should have called this thing the “Shaggin’ Wagon”.

Well you’re not the head of the BNP, are you Baz?  Besides, if you’d have been at the last meeting like everyone else you would have had the opportunity to cast your vote in.

From what I hear, Simon was the only one who turned up last month.

It’s the principal that counts, Bazza!  We still upped our participation level by 100%!  That’s something, right?  Come on, be a little more optimistic!

Yeah well… What’s with all the fookin’ flowers on the van anyways?  Don’t want people thinking we’re a travelling sideshow of poofs.

Apparently some old hippie bloke used to own it.  S’why we got it dead cheap.  We need to save money what with the economic crisis and all.  And who’s responsible, Bazza?

(looks puzzled) Erm… Child-molesting priests and single mothers?

No, Baz.  Bloody foreigners, innit.  They come into our country, take our jobs, do em better and cheaper than we do… take our women and put sodding cloths on their heads…  It’s all their fault.

Thought we blamed the Jews for all of the world’s woes, Nick?

Oi! I won’t have any of that Tyndall anti-semetic ranting and raving going on here!  The BNP has nowt to do with that anymore.  We’re centering our bigotry on anyone darker than us instead!

A car passes by with a lightly tanned group of teenagers inside.

(leaning out of window) Fookin’ foreigners!  Go back to your own country!

Piss off, we’re from Leicester!

Ey-up Nick.  Where are we exactly?

Don’t you have the map?

…Map?

Five hours later, the Truth Truck parks into a Shell petrol station somewhere near Birmingham...

Honestly, Bazza.  I give you a simple task and you bugger it up!  What, I mean WHAT the hell were you thinking of leaving the map back at the church?

Well, I was busy firebombing that…

I know!  Hush!  We haven’t indoctrinated the people here yet so keep your voice down.  Some people might think that instead of preserving the British heritage by firebombing a Greek restaurant, we’re actually committing a crime.

Eh?

Oh, nevermind.  Just wait here while I pay for the petrol.

Entering the kiosque, he is confronted by a Pakistani clerk at the till.

Which pump, sir?

Griffin ignores the clerk.

Sir?  I said which pu-  Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?

Me?  Oh… erm… well…

Hang on, weren’t you that bloke off last year’s Big Brother?  That one nobody could stand?

Erm… no… I… erm… Listen, isn’t there anyone else who could serve me?  Someone… you know…

Sorry?

Erm… someone a little less… foreign?

I was born and raised in Birmingham, mate.  I’m as British as they get.

They’re invading our sodding towns now!  Oh god!  First they take away our petrol, then-

Hang on, who do you mean “they”?

The Arabs!

(increasingly annoyed) Well, actually mate, the Arabic countries of the world are some of the biggest petrol exporters in the world.  So it’s more like they’re giving you petrol.  Secondly, I’m British.  I’m not Arabic.  I come from a multicultural background.

A multi-what?

Multicultural. You know, loads of different cultures blending in together?  It’s what makes Britain such a great place to live.

Look, I’m really trying to avoid aggro here.  Can’t anyone else serve me?

Fraid not, sir.  So I’ll ask you again… WHICH. PUMP?

Five!  Alright! Five!  Fuck!

That’ll be £17.95

Daylight robbery, I tell you!

Hang on a sec, I know who you are!  You’re that gobshite who runs the BNP aren’t you?  John whatsisname…

I’m not John Tyndall goddamnit!  Get your fucking facts straight!  I’m Nick Griffin! I’m a whole different package! (slowly backing away) Tyndall was an anti-semite!  We have jewish members now!  Nobody knows who they are, but they still exist!  I’m just anti foreigner!

At this point, Griffin falls over a small christmas tree planted prematurely in the middle of the kiosque.   His fall tears out a nearby plug which starts an electrical fire in the building.

20 minutes later, the police arrive at the scene after the fire department have put out the fire.  Griffin is arrested for destruction of private property, however Bazza is nowhere to be found, having scarpered with the Truth Truck at the first hint of trouble.  He now owns a junkyard in Brixton, and stands behind the Truth Truck, proudly having re-christened it “Tha Shyaggeeng Wagun” with a bottle of acrylic poster paint and paint-thinner.  The BNP once again fades into a state of disrepair and the world can breathe freely knowing that another group of incompetent, bumbling hypocrites has been put to rest.

Till next time,

James

Nick Griffin Visits Prague and Makes an Arse Out of Himself

So Nick Griffin, leader of the BNP and general scumbag visited Prague today in order to deliver a speech about how the Czechs shouldn’t adhere to the so-called European “superstate” and yadda yadda yadda.  Here’s that speech in full and the prelude to the Prague visit.  I refuse to lower myself to the common BNP language (I.E. racial slurs-a-poppin’), even when I’m trying to impersonate the fuckers.  Petty racist terms and small mindedness are places I avoid like a BNP supporter avoiding Brixton on a Friday night.

—

The leading members of the BNP hold a summit in their illustrious headquarters – a small church in Stepney – to discuss current events and their monthly schedule.  Nick Griffin sits up on the stage and begins the summit.

Well, it’s wonderful to see so many of you turn out today.  Simon’s here!  This is truly a milestone for the BNP, makes me feel really proud to be British.

The only other person in the room, Simon Darby, a BNP supporter and Griffin’s right hand man stands up.

Yeah, more of us would have turned up, but Bazza and his lot are busy firebombing Pakistani restaurants down in Brixton.  Else they would have come, honest!

Suddenly, his cell-phone rings and he answers it.

Yeah?  Oh, alright Bazza!  How you doi- What?  How the hell can you tell?  Yeah, but they all look the same, don’t they?  Right, OK. (he turns to Griffin) He says the restaurant owners were Greek.

Oh, well.  It’s an easy mistake to make.  All look the same do these foreigners.  Right, down to business then.  First item on today’s schedule: what to call the new bus we just bought.  Any ideas?

Baz thought “shaggin’ wagon” would be a good name for it.  I dunno, though.  I’m in favour of “The Kronenburg Kart” meself.

Sounds a bit Polish, though.  Don’t want people think we’re driving around the UK thinking we’re a bunch of plumbers building extensions on houses now, do we?

Well have you got a better idea?

Yeah.  I was thinking of “The Truth Truck”.

But Nick… we’re spouting complete bullshit.  Why call it the Truth Truck?

Lull them into a false sense of security, Simon.  We need to get them on OUR side.

Get who on our side?

You know…  White people.

But Polacks are white.

Yeah, but they’re TOO white.  We’ve been over this, Sy.  Have you still got the skin-colour swatches I gave you at the last meeting?

But Nick… I wasn’t there last time.  You were speaking to an empty room.

Erm… ah… uh… Next matter at hand!  My visit to Prague…

Several weeks later, Griffin is with Simon in Prague speaking at a Czech National Party rally…

My Czech brothers!  Well, you’re not actually brothers of mine because I’m pure British Bulldog.  No foreigner in me, nosiree! But, my Czech comrades!  Ah, shit.  Sounds a bit commie. Erm…  All you foreign bastards!  Listen up!  We’re here tonight because both our countries face a bigger threat than you lot coming to my country to find work!  Erm… Don’t join the European Union!  If the EU continues to grow, it’ll become a country in it’s own right!  Then I have to say that I come from the same country as you lot.  It’s just not right! I’m not bloody Polish!

Czech, Nick!  Not Polish!

Same difference!  But you all need to ask yourselves whether or not you WANT to lose your nationality.  Your patriotism!  Your… I dunno… democracy!

I thought we were against democracy, Nick?

Only when it stops us from propagating our fascist agenda, Sy.  We’ve covered this time after time.

He looks to a young man in the crowd.

You!  Do you really want your country to become a puppet state for the leftist loonies at the EU?

Another young man pops out of the crowd.

No!

I’m not talking to you!

But you’re looking at me!

It’s a glass eye, you idiot!  I’m talking to that guy over there!  Do you really went your country to be ruled by a bunch of bloody foreigners?

Well I dunno.  Might be alright I suppose.

What? Alright? Might be? I suppose?  Where’s your national pride?! Where’s your nationalist spirit?!

Where’s yours?  You stupid shits are so desperate that you’re bussing around Eastern Europe trying to find support from us, even though you’re always trying to kick our countrymen out of the UK!

That’s not true!  We have completely honest intentions towards you folks!

Like what?

Well… erm… um… I was going to leave it as a surprise after my speech… But we’re actually on the road filming a low budget remake of Cliff Richard’s Summer Holiday!  Instead of travelling around France and Greece, we’re driving around Eastern Europe!

It’s winter!

Yeah, but scheduling has been a bitch…

Yeah, but it’s not very convincing in a film called Summer Holiday to have fucking snow in all your major scenes, is it?

(losing his temper) Well it’s always fucking cold here, isn’t it?  That’s why you silly sods are always coming to England for the weather!

At this point, the crowd rushes Griffin and Simon, tip over the Truth Truck and set alight to it.  John Tyndall spins in his grave and Nick Griffin is lynched.  James sits at home laughing his ass off.

Till next time,

James