Sunday, 26 December 2010

I'd love to box you on Boxing Day

Taking Fucking Liberties, that's what TFL needs to stand for. What the fuck do that lot think they're playing at striking on Boxing Day? Champion pricks. The rotund cunts, hanging like a half born calf and not massively being arsed to come into work to push a stick forward after a Christmas of gluttony, decide to strike - and mug us all off. These cheerful wankers get paid a dirty wage to suck off the Fat Controller, have 133484936282 days holiday a year, yet still kick off - because Graham in the ticket office (who's a fucking gormless muppet anyway) is getting the boot, as the natural progression of technology means he'll no longer be able to have an 80 minute kip on a Sunday evening.

Luckily, I've been in "The Garden of England" seeing some family today and a million miles away from those epic dickheads and their picket lines. However, if I did need to go into town, to jostle with some tourists to grabs some bargains, I would have stuck down the nearest tube striker with an unimaginable force. What a joke.

On a lighter note, I had a blinding Christmas, ate a small African village's annual dietry requirement in meat, drank shit loads of dear spirits and didn't vomit in a stocking like last year. And today I don't have swine flu like last year. Good progress in my opinion.

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