Courtesy of Political Scrapbook
If you’re planning on getting kettled outside the tory conference next week, you don’t want the bacon filming you, and when you shout “fuck the pigs!” remember, Dave already has. Now we know why Ian Duncan-Smith’s breakfast is so expensive. #piggate
Or you might want to join the Class War anti-gentrification Shoreditch Fuck Parade this coming Saturday; keep the pig-fucking classes out of Shoreditch!
Simply click on the image to download the pdf, and print A4 – for best results select ‘fit’ – then stick on some cardboard and cut him out. The mouth is firmly closed in case the toffs get any funny ideas.
Originally posted on Amila Bosnae
So I could qualify as a real refugee if war happened to me again, no? I mean, I do have an android phone, and yeah, if I had to flee again, I would most likely bring it with me because it’s a lifeline to everyone I know as well as to essential emergency services, plus it weighs practically nothing, but it’s not an iPhone, so I could pass for a real refugee, right? Or maybe it would be better to hide it anyway and remember to wear my worst clothes ever rather than the ones that would keep me warm and dry at night, because you better fucking look the part if you find yourself on the wrong side of a humanitarian crisis. You better look like you’re visiting from the Dark Ages if you want to satisfy the privileged gaze.
People who bring their phones to the loo with them now scoff at others who are uprooting their entire lives for bringing theirs. Are you kidding me?
Do iPhones in the refugees’ hands bring it too close to home that they are just like you and me? Is it because people wanted to see Middle Easterners as backwards and awfully primitive and generally beneath the mighty capitalist Westerner or something? Pls explain.
By the way, I once met a vendor of the Big Issue who had an iPhone so he could accept electronic payments from people who don’t have cash on them. I don’t know how it works, exactly, since I don’t have one myself, so obviously, the correct conclusion here is that I am actually way worse off than him, the scrounging bastard.
What say you to that, people suddenly interested in the plight of the homeless for the first time in your lives? Where is your god now?
“You can tell a man what boozes,
by the company he chooses,
– at that, the pig got up and walked away…”
Should the tabloids or the beeb attempt to link Corby romantically with a vegetable marrow, we will of course smell a rat.