politics

Hedge of Insanity

From John Dunn in Britain, who is starting off the new year right

I did my best to have a good Christmas, as I always enjoy commemorating the birth of an imaginary person by getting pissed and putting on a stone in weight…

However, the bastard Bozo, ruined my plans…

Instead of my usual festivities, his insisting on only 3 households for just one day, rendered my meticulous organisation useless…

I had roasted two geese, a fatted calf and a suckling pig, in anticipation of having our usual family get together…

Our evening parlour games were a pale imitation of our usual jollities and the mulled wine was virtually untouched…

As the ice sculpture in the corner of the living room steadily melted I was faced with a mountain of left over food and drink…

Scooping it up into bin bags, I set off for the food bank, even though I was pissed out of my head…

I came upon a solitary figure, sleeping in the doorway of the closed Poundworld and decided to share my left overs with them…

I noticed he was wearing a rather expensive coat for a homeless person, but decided he must be a deserving type…

Imagine my astonishment when he told me that, he was, in fact, a hedge fund manager and owned several houses throughout the world!

It turned out he had simply stopped for a piss, after consuming a large quantity of cocaine, as he celebrated making a fortune on betting against the pound in the run up to Brexit…

Apologising I went to leave when he pointed out that, if I gave the food to the homeless, they would only sell it to buy alcohol, drugs and large flat screen tvs…

So fuck it, we sat in the doorway, quaffing the champagne and dining on sweetmeats and the like…

He regaled me with grandiose stories of the factories he had liquidated whilst cashing in on their assets, of his yacht in Monaco and his castle in Tuscany…

As for the food bank I had intended to visit, he poured scorn on such things, pointing out that they just gave idle people an incentive not to work, and the only banks worth being involved in were in the Cayman Islands…

He were a reyt nice feller and, just being in his company, made me appreciate that life was just about being nice and kind to each other, no matter rich or poor…

Then I kicked the shit out of the bastard and nicked his nice coat to take to the homeless shelter…

Categories: politics, poverty & hunger

1 reply »

  1. I was married to an English woman for about 30 years. She died in 2011. She would have enjoyed this immensely. Thanks for posting it. I don’t know how many people on our side of the pond will get all the references.

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