Monday, 20 June 2011
Hate
I don't hate very many things.
There are two things I really hate. They are rife in real life and on on Twitter. One is easy, it's lies. Being lied to. Lying. Fucking hate that.
The second one is more difficult. I hate it probably more. One reason I hate it is because it probably has a word and I can't find it.
The thing I hate is where someone says something in a crowded room, or tweets something on Twitter, and that something is obviously aimed at a someone, without saying who the someone is. But the someone knows. And I'm as guilty as the next man, woman or penguin. But that doesn't make it right.
I hate it so much that I think that when I see it again I shall be quite nasty. So be warned.
But someone, please tell me what the word for it is?
Thank you.
There are two things I really hate. They are rife in real life and on on Twitter. One is easy, it's lies. Being lied to. Lying. Fucking hate that.
The second one is more difficult. I hate it probably more. One reason I hate it is because it probably has a word and I can't find it.
The thing I hate is where someone says something in a crowded room, or tweets something on Twitter, and that something is obviously aimed at a someone, without saying who the someone is. But the someone knows. And I'm as guilty as the next man, woman or penguin. But that doesn't make it right.
I hate it so much that I think that when I see it again I shall be quite nasty. So be warned.
But someone, please tell me what the word for it is?
Thank you.
Wednesday, 15 June 2011
Alice
Facebook users can report a page by going onto it and pressing the "report" thingy. It's on the left, under all the bollocks like Wall, Info etc.
Alice Pyne, the brave lass suffering with cancer, does not need some misguided/evil/stupid bastard putting up a page on her behalf for whatever reason, and it is upsetting her.
The page is here (clicky clicky): The offending page
So, go there. Report it. I know Mark Suckaturd is busy making himself a box office success but FFS if enough people go there and tell him, he really might take it down.
It won't cost you anything. It won't take long.
Here's Alice's post: Alice's Post on Twitter just in case you think I'm the evil one.
Just do it.
Or the kitten dies.
Pengy
Alice Pyne, the brave lass suffering with cancer, does not need some misguided/evil/stupid bastard putting up a page on her behalf for whatever reason, and it is upsetting her.
The page is here (clicky clicky): The offending page
So, go there. Report it. I know Mark Suckaturd is busy making himself a box office success but FFS if enough people go there and tell him, he really might take it down.
It won't cost you anything. It won't take long.
Here's Alice's post: Alice's Post on Twitter just in case you think I'm the evil one.
Just do it.
Or the kitten dies.
Pengy
Monday, 13 June 2011
Pissed
Right.
Pissed off. Of course things happen. Of course they do. Sometimes they happen more than once. Usually cos you don't learn. But hold on. I'm getting right jacked off with this. As many of you know, my daughter, Melanie, died of fucking cancer. That was shit. And I've had another couple of mates who have.
And here's another one. A Twitter friend. Great lass. NEVER moans. Unlike some people who haven't got a problem and don't even know what a problem is. Like me, for instance.
Does good stuff, she does. Likes animals. Not like Miss World "Oooh I like animals and I want to do some good."
No. Like will make Christmas if she is REALLY lucky but it isn't likely. Like that.
I've had enough of this bollocks. I really have. Let's give it to the sodding banks, India, Pakistan, wherever people are dying of diarrhoea. We can't cure the common cold. We can't sort out cancer without killing the patient half the time.
Let's all extol the virtues of Bill Fucking Gates who's ripped the poor punters off since the eighties with half-baked shit, who has billions of quid he can't spend, and then bungs it on some arse vaccination to some Africans who will now have kids who grow up to be old enough to overpopulate somewhere else. Brilliant. Thanks, Bill, you four-eyed inadequate twat. Thanks you big pharma wankers who've been ripping us off for 95p in the pound since FOREVER.
Thanks God. or whoever the fuck invented cancer. Thank you Church, for having more money and land and everything else than you fucking know what to do with.
I have a plan. Let's have the bloody lot. Let's shove it into sorting out this pile of festering shite. Let's stop bunging it into a country that's still spear-chucking (and those are Prince Philip's fucking words, not mine). And let's cut the shit. And the suits.
Pengy says let's get stuck in and sort it. None of this retire at 50 and have two hours for lunch bollocks. And meetings. Just fucking DO IT.
Now. Argue. You know you want to. Be offensive. I'll ignore you if you're not.
Pissed off. Of course things happen. Of course they do. Sometimes they happen more than once. Usually cos you don't learn. But hold on. I'm getting right jacked off with this. As many of you know, my daughter, Melanie, died of fucking cancer. That was shit. And I've had another couple of mates who have.
And here's another one. A Twitter friend. Great lass. NEVER moans. Unlike some people who haven't got a problem and don't even know what a problem is. Like me, for instance.
Does good stuff, she does. Likes animals. Not like Miss World "Oooh I like animals and I want to do some good."
No. Like will make Christmas if she is REALLY lucky but it isn't likely. Like that.
I've had enough of this bollocks. I really have. Let's give it to the sodding banks, India, Pakistan, wherever people are dying of diarrhoea. We can't cure the common cold. We can't sort out cancer without killing the patient half the time.
Let's all extol the virtues of Bill Fucking Gates who's ripped the poor punters off since the eighties with half-baked shit, who has billions of quid he can't spend, and then bungs it on some arse vaccination to some Africans who will now have kids who grow up to be old enough to overpopulate somewhere else. Brilliant. Thanks, Bill, you four-eyed inadequate twat. Thanks you big pharma wankers who've been ripping us off for 95p in the pound since FOREVER.
Thanks God. or whoever the fuck invented cancer. Thank you Church, for having more money and land and everything else than you fucking know what to do with.
I have a plan. Let's have the bloody lot. Let's shove it into sorting out this pile of festering shite. Let's stop bunging it into a country that's still spear-chucking (and those are Prince Philip's fucking words, not mine). And let's cut the shit. And the suits.
Pengy says let's get stuck in and sort it. None of this retire at 50 and have two hours for lunch bollocks. And meetings. Just fucking DO IT.
Now. Argue. You know you want to. Be offensive. I'll ignore you if you're not.
Tuesday, 17 May 2011
Rape
Here we go. I'm going to get properly unfollowed, I reckon. Or arrested. Or chastised.
Everyone's having a dig a Nadine Dorries, the MP who says that the solution to the world's ills is to educate girls in the art of abstinence. I'm not even going to go there. So far wrong there's no path to right from it.
But here's some more shit. Most people won't like this. I know this, because women, who are mostly the victims of sexual assault are commenting away on the subject, nineteen to the dozen, as women do (see the sexism coming out there already?)
I can be a twat at times, but I am not quite as daft as I make out. And I'm a bloke. Now, sexual assualt, even rape, is MOST OFTEN carried out by blokes. MOST OFTEN against women.
Apparently, women/girls are inviting this assault by dressing to kill. Hence the #slutwalk march, which I personally think is bollocks.
I have two young girls (and several older ones). They dress to kill. You'd put them at 15 if you saw them dressed up. They're 10 and 12 (nearly). They dress up because they like to. And what's wrong with that? Blimey, if I had legs like that I'd wear miniskirts. But they don't dress up to attract boys, not at that age they don't. Certainly not the 10 y/o, anyway. And she's already got a boyfriend.
Some women think it's about power, this assault thing. I don't. The reason I don't is because I can't rationalise it. I can rationalise most things. Visualise them, even. Being ever so slightly insane, it's easy for me to imagine murdering someone. A couple of them, actually. But not rape. EXCEPT ...
Porn. Nothing wrong with porn, you say? I think there is. Not like Emmanuelle, if that's still porn. But very naughty porn. I don't know if you've ever watched proper porn. I know I have. It's not very erotic, in my opinion. But it leaves little to the imagination. In the olden days, when I was a lad, we had Carry On films, mainly. Anything else was from Denmark and had animals in it, so we never saw any of that. My old man always used to keep a copy of Fiesta in his drawer and me and my brother used to go and dig it out now and again. It had an Australian woman in it, in the centre pages. She was a bit of a minger, to be honest.
But it isn't like that nowadays. Porn gets more and more explicit. Or "nasty", as I prefer to call it. Look, I know what women look like. And I think I've worked out what they like other than decent scoff and flowers. Certainly some of them, anyhow. But if you watch porn of a certain kind, you would be forgiven for thinking that they desperately want a man to make them scream with pain whilst they struggle and he thrusts his throbbing manhood deep into her .... hold on, getting carried away there, been reading too many Sidney Sheldon's.
See? Why the actual fuck would a gullible, perhaps lonely, perhaps oversexed, overhormonal chap of little experience and even less education know any different?
Go on, bleat. Tell me about freedom and liberalism, and how it has nothing to do with anyone else what you can buy over (or under) the counter? Tell me. I gather that our esteemed Controllers are going to hide away the ciggie packets. Put them in plain wrappers. But porn is OK. Even implied rape porn. Trust me, it isn't even disguised.
If you think this is opinionated bollocks, and it is your prerogative so to do, let me know. I'll give you a few titles to watch. If you're good I might burn you a copy too.
I'm off to bash the bishop.
Love, the Penguin.
Everyone's having a dig a Nadine Dorries, the MP who says that the solution to the world's ills is to educate girls in the art of abstinence. I'm not even going to go there. So far wrong there's no path to right from it.
But here's some more shit. Most people won't like this. I know this, because women, who are mostly the victims of sexual assault are commenting away on the subject, nineteen to the dozen, as women do (see the sexism coming out there already?)
I can be a twat at times, but I am not quite as daft as I make out. And I'm a bloke. Now, sexual assualt, even rape, is MOST OFTEN carried out by blokes. MOST OFTEN against women.
Apparently, women/girls are inviting this assault by dressing to kill. Hence the #slutwalk march, which I personally think is bollocks.
I have two young girls (and several older ones). They dress to kill. You'd put them at 15 if you saw them dressed up. They're 10 and 12 (nearly). They dress up because they like to. And what's wrong with that? Blimey, if I had legs like that I'd wear miniskirts. But they don't dress up to attract boys, not at that age they don't. Certainly not the 10 y/o, anyway. And she's already got a boyfriend.
Some women think it's about power, this assault thing. I don't. The reason I don't is because I can't rationalise it. I can rationalise most things. Visualise them, even. Being ever so slightly insane, it's easy for me to imagine murdering someone. A couple of them, actually. But not rape. EXCEPT ...
Porn. Nothing wrong with porn, you say? I think there is. Not like Emmanuelle, if that's still porn. But very naughty porn. I don't know if you've ever watched proper porn. I know I have. It's not very erotic, in my opinion. But it leaves little to the imagination. In the olden days, when I was a lad, we had Carry On films, mainly. Anything else was from Denmark and had animals in it, so we never saw any of that. My old man always used to keep a copy of Fiesta in his drawer and me and my brother used to go and dig it out now and again. It had an Australian woman in it, in the centre pages. She was a bit of a minger, to be honest.
But it isn't like that nowadays. Porn gets more and more explicit. Or "nasty", as I prefer to call it. Look, I know what women look like. And I think I've worked out what they like other than decent scoff and flowers. Certainly some of them, anyhow. But if you watch porn of a certain kind, you would be forgiven for thinking that they desperately want a man to make them scream with pain whilst they struggle and he thrusts his throbbing manhood deep into her .... hold on, getting carried away there, been reading too many Sidney Sheldon's.
See? Why the actual fuck would a gullible, perhaps lonely, perhaps oversexed, overhormonal chap of little experience and even less education know any different?
Go on, bleat. Tell me about freedom and liberalism, and how it has nothing to do with anyone else what you can buy over (or under) the counter? Tell me. I gather that our esteemed Controllers are going to hide away the ciggie packets. Put them in plain wrappers. But porn is OK. Even implied rape porn. Trust me, it isn't even disguised.
If you think this is opinionated bollocks, and it is your prerogative so to do, let me know. I'll give you a few titles to watch. If you're good I might burn you a copy too.
I'm off to bash the bishop.
Love, the Penguin.
Monday, 16 May 2011
HOOK
A seaman meets a pirate penguin in a bar, and talk turns to their adventures on the sea. The seaman notes that the penguin has a peg-leg, a hook, and an eye patch.
The seaman asks, "So, how did you end up with the peg-leg?" The penguin replies, "We were in a storm at sea, and I was swept overboard into a school of sharks. Just as my men were pulling me out, a shark bit my leg off."
"Wow!" said the seaman. "What about your hook"? "Well", replied the penguin, "We were boarding an enemy ship and were battling the other sailors with swords. One of the enemy cut my hand off."
"Incredible!" remarked the seaman. "How did you get the eye patch"? "A seagull dropping fell into my eye," replied pengy.
"You lost your eye to a seagull dropping?," the sailor asked incredulously. "Well," said pingu, "it was my first day with my hook"
The seaman asks, "So, how did you end up with the peg-leg?" The penguin replies, "We were in a storm at sea, and I was swept overboard into a school of sharks. Just as my men were pulling me out, a shark bit my leg off."
"Wow!" said the seaman. "What about your hook"? "Well", replied the penguin, "We were boarding an enemy ship and were battling the other sailors with swords. One of the enemy cut my hand off."
"Incredible!" remarked the seaman. "How did you get the eye patch"? "A seagull dropping fell into my eye," replied pengy.
"You lost your eye to a seagull dropping?," the sailor asked incredulously. "Well," said pingu, "it was my first day with my hook"
Cast
This Huhne.
Apparently he's had his ex-missus pick up some points because he'd got previous and this one would've put him over the ten points, thus barring him from driving for a bit. I have no idea why that's a problem, because I thought the troughers all got company chauffeurs and a go at the maid every Friday anyway. Perhaps I'm wrong. Perhaps only senior troughers get all that.
However. I have no idea why there's all the furore. I have done the same. Obviously, I didn't do it on purpose, but my ex-idiot had three speeding endorsements, the twat, and managed to get another one. Or did she? I couldn't remember whether it was me who was driving that day, actually, and nor could she. So I went to court to tell the magistrate this. Three times. The first two appearances got chucked out but the Plod, bless their little cotton socks, wouldn't let it go. On their third attempt to nail someone with the heinous offence of driving through a speed camera at 46 mph in a 40 limit with not a house or driveway in sight, I told the magistrate, absolutely truthfully, obviously, SNORK, that I thought it was me who was driving her car. But I wasn't sure. So Mr Magistrate did the right thing, told the Plod they were wasting everybody's time, slung it out, and I fucked off, on my motorbike, to work.
On the way back, I overtook a whole heap of traffic, because you don't ride a 180mph superbike in order to stay at the back of the queue. Unfortunately, Plod, who were definitely not waiting specifically to nail me because I'd just slapped them one in the eye, then overtook the same heap of traffic, in a car, which was downright fucking dangerous and stupid. And as I wasn't trying to get away, having no idea that they were that vindictive and petty, they caught up with me, putting at risk every other motorist in the mile long hot-pursuit inna Boss Hogg stylee,
They explained (told me) that I had crossed a solid white line. I said "bollocks" because either I hadn't, or I didn't give a shit whether I had or not, or I was a bit pissed off as there is no way they'd have caught up with me had I not wanted them to. So they issued me with a ticket. I went down the nick, and explained to the most senior fuckwit there (who was an inspector and about 6 years old, but he must have had a degree or something so he was very important indeed) that it was a set-up. But, unfortunately, I didn't read the small print on the "producer" and therefore admitted the offence by default. So I told him he was a cunt, which didn't help.
I got done. Got three points.
Ex-missus kept her licence. I told her if she got caught speeding again she was on her own. She hasn't been caught since.
I used to be a cop. Many years ago, when Plod did a proper job. Before paperwork and targets and shit. When they used to catch crims. I had respect then. Not any more.
But, this Huhne. I have no idea who he is, what he does, or anything. But I don't give a fuck either. What I do give a fuck about is that "an extraordinary tape was released". By whom? Who cares? And why is it even admissible?
Fuck this country.
And, furthermore, if you're one of the witch hunters who've been clamouring for blood on this one, then FUCK YOU TOO.
Love
Pengy.x
Apparently he's had his ex-missus pick up some points because he'd got previous and this one would've put him over the ten points, thus barring him from driving for a bit. I have no idea why that's a problem, because I thought the troughers all got company chauffeurs and a go at the maid every Friday anyway. Perhaps I'm wrong. Perhaps only senior troughers get all that.
However. I have no idea why there's all the furore. I have done the same. Obviously, I didn't do it on purpose, but my ex-idiot had three speeding endorsements, the twat, and managed to get another one. Or did she? I couldn't remember whether it was me who was driving that day, actually, and nor could she. So I went to court to tell the magistrate this. Three times. The first two appearances got chucked out but the Plod, bless their little cotton socks, wouldn't let it go. On their third attempt to nail someone with the heinous offence of driving through a speed camera at 46 mph in a 40 limit with not a house or driveway in sight, I told the magistrate, absolutely truthfully, obviously, SNORK, that I thought it was me who was driving her car. But I wasn't sure. So Mr Magistrate did the right thing, told the Plod they were wasting everybody's time, slung it out, and I fucked off, on my motorbike, to work.
On the way back, I overtook a whole heap of traffic, because you don't ride a 180mph superbike in order to stay at the back of the queue. Unfortunately, Plod, who were definitely not waiting specifically to nail me because I'd just slapped them one in the eye, then overtook the same heap of traffic, in a car, which was downright fucking dangerous and stupid. And as I wasn't trying to get away, having no idea that they were that vindictive and petty, they caught up with me, putting at risk every other motorist in the mile long hot-pursuit inna Boss Hogg stylee,
They explained (told me) that I had crossed a solid white line. I said "bollocks" because either I hadn't, or I didn't give a shit whether I had or not, or I was a bit pissed off as there is no way they'd have caught up with me had I not wanted them to. So they issued me with a ticket. I went down the nick, and explained to the most senior fuckwit there (who was an inspector and about 6 years old, but he must have had a degree or something so he was very important indeed) that it was a set-up. But, unfortunately, I didn't read the small print on the "producer" and therefore admitted the offence by default. So I told him he was a cunt, which didn't help.
I got done. Got three points.
Ex-missus kept her licence. I told her if she got caught speeding again she was on her own. She hasn't been caught since.
I used to be a cop. Many years ago, when Plod did a proper job. Before paperwork and targets and shit. When they used to catch crims. I had respect then. Not any more.
But, this Huhne. I have no idea who he is, what he does, or anything. But I don't give a fuck either. What I do give a fuck about is that "an extraordinary tape was released". By whom? Who cares? And why is it even admissible?
Fuck this country.
And, furthermore, if you're one of the witch hunters who've been clamouring for blood on this one, then FUCK YOU TOO.
Love
Pengy.x
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