Bloody work etc, the unemployed of old Blighty don't know how lucky they are,get up,perhaps, watch a bit of half wit t.v. filled with half wits banging on about who's the bloody father of little bleeding Leroy,as they are usually called,the mother draped head to toe in stain ridden tracksuit, with extra girth extension, lank greasy " chip pan" style hair do, more piercings than a circus freak,,,,,,,Then the absent father turns up, like a bad smell, again wearing the uniform of the underclass, stains in different places, that white pasty face look that only deep sea fish have,the ones that have no eyes and never see the sunlight, wearing the obligitary tatoos that previously were worn only by the proud and fearless warriors of the Cook islands, he talks,in a strange dialect, he thinks he is in the Bronx, he,s not, he's from fucking Bradford.
Guess what? he does not work, no job, but can afford to visit his tatoo parlour every 2 weeks.
These people severely piss me off. That's why Britain is going down the pan, to keep people such as Mr and Mrs Deep Pan in the lap of luxury. How strange that these people never have any money and yet are always as heavy as a large African land mammal?
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