A Load of Cobblers / May 29 2008
On our afternoon walk yesterday, I noticed that the BNP office on the High Street has been transformed into a lovely little florist shop called Cobbler’s Flowers.
I was just telling Audrey how delighted I was when Kev the hard-man-fascist-bully-boy-skinhead-twat came out of the betting shop next door vigorously scratching his testicles – either that or he was searching for the lost city of Atlantis in his trousers. Noticing us, he wandered over to where we were standing, spat on the pavement and said: ‘Shame, innit – what wiv’ all them Poles ‘round ‘ere an’ that.’
‘Well, I, erm . . .’
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, punching me hard on the arm, ‘We’ll be back.’
I felt horrible, dirty and vaguely polluted as we walked home. Rubbing the spot on my aching arm where he had thumped me, I couldn’t help thinking about Kev’s words and how he must have somehow thought that I share his sickening and racist opinions, that we are political cohorts in some way.
I felt much better, however, after returning to the house and indulging in a frothy hour of ethnic cleansing in the bathroom.
Filed under English Village Life / Kev / Politics / Racism
Comments
4 comments on “A Load of Cobblers”
Nelson Galaxy / May 29th, 2008 at 3:15 pm
Are you sure they are not selling fascist flowers? They’ll try anything them evil BNPers.
Napoleon Fantastic / May 30th, 2008 at 11:22 am
Don’t think so, Nelson.
There is a little old lady behind the counter - you think she could be a KKKer or something?
Nelson Galaxy / May 30th, 2008 at 2:32 pm
Trust no one!
Napoleon Fantastic / May 30th, 2008 at 4:54 pm
OK - thanks for the heads-up, Nelson.
Leave a comment
