Brexit 50p ono

Fuck off

Nothing says Brexit better than a bunch of idiots gloating over a senseless victory with a meaningless symbol. First blue passports and now a gaslighting commemorative 50p coin celebrating “Peace, prosperity and friendship with all nations” following nearly four years of bitterness, employment uncertainty, and open racism and nationalism. At least a 52p coin would have shown a bit of imagination.

Bloody bastard bong for bastard bollocking Brexit

Big Ben – you big towery bastard – you’ve gone silent just when the indignant pink-faced spluttering arseflaps of Brexit need you most. Never mind that before David Cameron inadvertently destroyed the country not a single one of those frothing tosspots had ever given a silent fart about Big Ben, its bongs or its clapper – Big Ben is now the shining needle that the country’s short-sighted, small-minded Union Jack-waving Gavins and Yvonnes will use to prick the country right out of the EU.

“Bung a bob to make Big Ben bong for Brexit!” Boris burbled bemi-boherently. “Big Ben must bong for Brexit!” the Daily Express quacked. “Bung Big Ben up Boris’s Backside!” No-one suggested, disappointingly. Why must Bigbenbong? Because if Big Ben doesn’t bong for Brexit then no Leaver will get the exact Brexit they demanded, when they voted to start this self-abuse nearly four years ago. Every single one of them voted Leave with one dream between them – that Spitfires would zoom over Big Ben as it bonged cheering crowds of backward-looking fuckwits into Britain’s brave new world of independence, before flying across the channel and bombing those bloody garlic-eating French garçons with tens of thousands of pairs of Union Jack boxer shorts. Without the bongs of Big Ben, the Spitfires, the Union Jack boxer shorts, even the jingoism, will just seem like spiteful, empty gestures.

Brexiteers started whacking off over their dream of freedom almost four years ago and that they could be deprived of their bongs just as they reach the vinegar strokes is something no Leaver will tolerate. Therefore Big Ben must bong for Brexit or Brexit will become an eternal one off the wrist demanding more and more extreme acts of nationalism enabling Leavers to finally achieve exit, all over the faces of those bureaucratic Brussels bastards.

Ban this sick filth

Last week I was handed a 12 hour ban by Twitter for my October 17th tweet “Jacob Rees-Mogg really is the cunt’s cunt.“. I appealed the ban, but the appeal was unsuccessful.

After a bit of thought, I decided to delete the offending tweet and, 12 hours later, I returned to Twitter. “Twitter gave me a 12 hour ban for, and forced me to delete, my “Jacob Rees-Mogg really is the cunt’s cunt” tweet. Which is odd, because Jacob Rees-Mogg really *is* the cunt’s cunt.” I said, knowing full well what would happen.

And it did. About an hour ago Twitter handed me a seven day ban, which will start when I delete the offending tweet about the offending tweet. I’ve appealed the ban.

I’m waiting for Twitter’s response, but I’m not hopeful.

To be clear, I’m not whingeing about Twitter banning me. It’s their site, they can enforce their rules however they see fit. For a site brimming with misogynists and fascists who issue death threats with gay abandon, though, my ban for expressing a non-violent, non-threatening personal opinion about a man who is quite clearly the cunt’s cunt seems like a misapplication of resources. I’m sure that cunt Jacob Rees-Mogg would disagree.

Update 2019-10-30: Twitter rejected my appeal, so I have deleted the offending tweet about the offending tweet, starting the countdown to the end of my seven day ban. In the meantime I can be found @ncguk1.