Thursday, November 14, 2002



I'm ninety-six, y' know, and I was watchin' that nice Duncan Ian Smithers on the telly yesterday...'ee's such a lovely bloke, very clean and such shiny shoes...and 'ee was saying wot was wrong with the government. About them promisin' that they'd bring down crime and lock up wogs and homosapians -- 'scuse my French -- and cat burglars wot burgle cats and stuff. 'Ee said, "The government promised us that crime would go down but now there's a crime committed 'ere every five seconds." I knew the 'Ouses of Parliament was gettin' dangerous but I didn't realise 'ow bad.


I blame it all on those emaciated women wot hang around the telephone boxes and flash their ankles at unsuspecting youths. I read about it in the Sun an' it's enough t' turn any man's 'ead, so 'elp me God. What we need is a decent, 'onest conservative goverment like we 'ad durin' the war. That'd put a stop to all this liberalisation and lewd be'aviour. That and a short stint in the forces. These prosthetics what wander the curbs at night sellin' their fannies ('scuse my Greek) to New Labour politicians, along with the gays who wasn't brought up in the church properly, fifteen years national service would soon sort 'em out. My 'Enry (God rest 'im) served 'is time in Tripoly and 'ee wasn't queer. He caught gondolas from the local whores but at least 'ee knew the difference between a man's arse and a woman's. The army taught 'im that.


There's too much crime nowadays. Time was when we could all leave our front doors open and nobody would break in. Mind you, we didn't 'ave owt worth nickin' back then. And most of 'ouses 'ad been bombed to rubble. And the young men were either killin' for their country or dead. But, still, things was much safer. We need t' reintroduce capital punishment. That'd teach 'em. The other night some little sod comes knockin' on me door and when I opens it, 'ee says, "Trick or treat?" I knew 'is game alright. So I stabbed 'im with 'Enry's old bayonet which I always keep under me pillow in case I get ravaged in the small 'ours. I'm an 'undred and eighty-four y' know, and I don't need this bullshit.