A 9-year-old East London boy cursed bitterly yesterday as the promised heavy snowfall in the London area failed to materialise, forcing him to make a half-arsed snowball by despondently scooping up a handful of melting slush and mud from the grass verge outside his Whitechapel home.
The youngster was later heard to mutter, “northern cunts’ as he watched the news on TV and saw his counterparts in Yorkshire joyously sledging down steep hills in nearby streets and parks.
We are a small, but perfectly formed band of satirists and smudge artists. We neither drink nor smoke. Nor indeed, do we use profanity or indulge in the sinful pleasures of the flesh. Now if you'll excuse me I need to get down the pub before closing time for a few pints and half an ounce of Golden Virginia. Hopefully, I'll have enough cash left to visit the local rub 'n' tug shop later for a massage and a rattling good bunk up with a painted floozie.
All The Best.