So as the good ship Straya continues to navigate the Plague Seas, its proud Ned Kelly figurehead bravely facing in whatever direction its smirking shit-funnel of a captain chooses, I would share a few NSW thoughts with you all, if you would be so good as to excuse my presumption…
Firstly, spare a thought for Klingerjiklian, NSW’s own Golden Armenian. You do understand she has been betrayed in love, right? It would go some way to account for her flibbertigibbet decisions regarding the Plague.
The grifter who had been feeding her lengths of knob, has since been hauled off in chains to face his doom, and Klingerjiklian was left on the shelf. Again.
Poor bitch has been on that fucken shelf for most of her life. Understandably. Us man-pigs are attracted to hotties. Klingerjiklian is not a hottie. Daryl, who was getting Klingerjiklian to suck his corrupt, Bat-Empire-flavoured dick, because that’s what boyfriends do, knew he was on a good thing. Klingerjiklian, barren old maid of dubious appearance as she is, would have fallen for the first bloke to tip her a wink.
But that’s over now. And I understand Klingerjiklian has found a new beau, a barrister no less, who probably shames her into all sorts of perverted juridical sex. I have seen hot judges’ associates dancing on coffee tables in slut-heels and Daisy Duke shorts after two lines of coke, and have been to several chambers’ Christmas parties. I know things about the legal fraternity. But it’s not as if Klingerjiklian would know kink-sex from vanilla sex. Look at her. She’s not ingested much cock.
Anyway, more power to her. Even bin-chickens need love.
But it’s time to Full Bin-Chicken. It’s time to get Gold Standard Medieval.
Enough of that arse-to-mouth hair-pulling barrister sex each night.
You got a Plague to sort, Klingerjiklian!
Seal Sydney off with all the pigs at your disposal. Call the old retired ones back to bolster numbers. They would be keen as fuck to get back “on the job”. They’ve been keen ever since it became OK to strip-search young girls. I can only imagine the fats they’re sporting now the Hard Hero Bacon has been fully unleashed upon the serfs.
Beat and Taser every filthy non-English-speaking immigrant who dares appear outside his or her hovel to seek food. Yell at them in English. It’s the only way they will learn the language. Worked on my parents. Send the horses in. I’m sure Tobruk is keen to feel the squelch of human flesh under his brave hooves again.
Speak sternly to the yoga-pant-wearing Karens in the eastern suburbs, and Cronulla, of course. But wait until they have finished promenading along the beach. You don’t want them ringing Mick Fullershit up and giving him a piece of their minds. That shit trickles down, you know.
Fuck giving the HSC students regional NSW’s vaccines. Give the smarmy pricks an assessment. It’s not like the HSC will make a pinch of shits bit of difference to any of them. The ones who are going to be doctors will still be doctors. The ones who are going to be useless pricks will still be useless pricks. Doing the HSC has never changed any of that.
Besides, the universities are all empty since the Bat Empire stopped sending its paying drones into the hallowed halls. There’s lots of room for our young idiots to pretend they’re studying something.
Send all of Sydney’s vaccine supplies to regional NSW. Who the fuck feeds you city fucks anyway? Who the fuck digs the coal for your electricity? If Regional NSW gets the Plague and dies you city cunts will be huffing spray paint and eating your spoiled-brat children in a month.
Explain to people, in all the languages you don’t speak, how shit has to roll now.
Really simply. With the aid of pictures. Show them your fucken awful dried-up baps if you have to.
Get that pet doctor of yours to fix her fucken yellowed fangs, or get a hot blonde to do her job. No-one is taking advice from a woman who looks like she lungs back 50 Horizons a day.
And push that arrogant Brad Hazzard cunt into the nearest soap-vat. The fuck you get that cunt from? What does he do anyway?
Keep the message constant and simple.
If you vaccinate, and catch the Plague, you probably won’t die or get very sick.
If you don’t vaccinate, and catch the Plague, you might die or get very sick.
But most of you won’t. But some of you will. It’s a lottery. We don’t know. Only the Plague knows. And it’s not telling us.
And until almost all of us are vaccinated, you can’t go out.
You can’t fuck like apes in nightclubs, have your fucken shit-bitch-whore weddings, sit around in coffee-wankeries pretending you know good coffee, slide hot fifties into Five Dragons, get your hair and nails done, get a rub-and-tug – or any of those things which make Australia Great.
Tell them straight, Klingerjiklian.
And then go even harder.
Turn off the piss. Cunts sitting around drinking in despair will lead to negative outcomes. Do not ask me how I know.
Perhaps the closure of bottle-shops will finally cause the revolution so many of us pine for – but in real terms, all you’re gonna get is a few million functioning alcoholics too old, unfit, and wheezy to mount much of a coup. So close those fuckers too.
It will be a rough few days, but fewer women will get beaten. The blokes might start to feel better after a few weeks off the piss.
Close the fast-food shitteries. Make people cook their own food.
Make a fucking effort, you disgusting, entitled cunt.
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Boris is a writer who has contributed to many magazines and websites over the years, edited a couple of those things as well, and written a few books. But his most important contribution is pissing people off. He feels this is his calling in life and something he takes seriously. He also enjoys whiskey, whisky and the way girls dance on tables. And riding motorcycles. He's pretty keen on that, too.