Are you aching for the blade? That’s okay We’re insured Are you aching for the grave? That’s okay We’re insured
We’re getting away with it All messed up Getting away with it All messed up That’s the living
There is one thing Australians excel at more than any other tribe upon this great, good earth. And no, it’s not necking LNP dick like hookers with guns to their heads.
What we’re the very best at (cue marching bands, gold stars, and fireworks), is hogging that overtaking lane like we’re hand-carved from the fossilised shit of Pure Pink Cunt.
This thing of ours is like a national article of faith.
We may do some things badly, some things kinda OK, and some things pretty well, but sitting in the right-hand lane like some kind of turd-brained shitgod with the word “SAFETY” carved into its sclerotic fat-reserves, is what we truly excel at.
We should fuck that Union Jack off our magic sky cloth and replace it with the words “Fuck Off, You’re Not Passing!” just so the world will know what sunburnt herd of puke-hearted boot-lickers we truly are.
Go for a ride or a drive and see. It’s a constant. It’s a given. Like putting your dick inside crack-whore. You know what’s gonna happen next.
On every trip involving a multi-lane road, and on and in any vehicle regardless of how many wheels it has, you will come upon these pig-fellators – the very avatars of existential, inbred gronkism, trundling along at the speed limit, or a kilometre or two above it, and Fuck You.
And it’s a serious Fuck You. With extra Fucks. Big shiny Fucks glazed with more Fucks, and then spiced with extra Fucks. Big, sweaty fucks with calloused hands that tear at your nipples and savage your anus.
From whence does this immense and self-centred boss bullcuntery come from? From what Stygian depth comes such a self-centred attitude to one’s fellow man? What part of the stunted Aussie lizard brain compels a person to behave like this? And why have they not scrawled “IMACUNT!” on their back window as a warning to people approaching from behind?
I’m sure a part of it comes from fear. Decades of propaganda works very well on people so simple-minded as to make a crate of shoes look like NASA scientists. And when this propaganda is viciously re-enforced by those Heroic Strip-Searchers Of Children (now gifted with luxurious German sedans by a grateful state), the fear becomes real and governs Australia’s piss-licking driving behaviour.
The thought-process of the piss-licker kinda goes: “If I speed up to overtake this car, and I have to overtake because the bastard is doing 109 in a 110 zone and the wheels on all those pushbikes he’s carting are spinning around and it’s making me want to kill my fat, smelly wife/husband with a hammer…so here I go…”
And there he (or she) goes, over into the right lane.
But then no fucken overtaking occurs. The cuntbaron just idles along at the speed limit beside the car that is also doing the speed limit, and everyone who comes up on the cuntbaron in the right lane, and who understands overtaking is a dynamic thing to be done quickly and efficiently, can now eat shit and fuck himself.
Fear of being booked for speeding – and it’s a real fear and because our police long ago ceased policing and now devote their entire miserable working lives to raising revenue and brutalising society, before going home to beat their wives and eventually eat the fast-exiting ammunition of their service pistols – is the prime imperative.
So what is a relatively simple manoeuvre: ie. Pulling over into the overtaking lane, accelerating to pass the car in front, and then moving back to the left so that people who wish to drive faster than you can pass without wanting to cut your vacuous face off with a flensing knife can do so, now becomes a Cunt Act of such Brobdingnagian proportions, it makes torturing koalas with pliers a family fun-day.
But when you take that Fear, and add good old small-minded Aussie Gofuckyourself to it, what is being committed is a Crime Against Humanity itself.
That’s what you’re doing, you spectacular shitsock-packed-with-fried-cunt.
That’s what is happening each and every time you prop yourself in that overtaking lane like the wheezing Avatar of all Cuntfucks, and you sit there…and sit there…and sit there.
And fuck everything and everyone who has the misfortune to be on the same section of road as you.
But Heaven itself forfend should the vehicle behind you flash its lights at you.
This is not Europe where those thrice-fucked wogs and dagos blast around like madmen flashing their rude-arse headlights at each other, is it? This is Ausfuckenstraya, fucker! You flash them lights at me and I’m gonna do a whole bunch of shit that will drive home just how much you must go and fuck yourself.
I will jump on my brakes, cunt! I will also then slow down! Are you getting fucked enough yet? No? How about I then speed up if you try and pass me on the left? Eat that oiled dick, bitch! Fucken flash your fucken lights at me, you cunt.
If, by some miracle, the desk-jizzers who rule us manage to create a three-lane road, then the lane-hogs utterly lose their shit and fuck that paradigm up even more than they fuck up the two-lane thing.
Now you’d think having an extra lane would mean the trucks, the caravans, the grannies, and foreigners with no spatial awareness, all nicely sitting 10 or 20 kays under the limit, would be driving in it.
Which is where civilised people would drive so as not to inconvenience anyone else with their inability to proceed at the speed limit.
But that’s not us, is it? We are a nation of fuck-gronks, shit-tards, and cuntlords. And as such a nation, we shall sit in the middle lane no matter how fast we’re going, and the left lane can get fucked, like all the cunts behind us.
Now and again, we shall move into the overtaking lane and drive at the same speed we were doing in the middle lane, because maybe the pricks behind us are not getting fucked fast enough.
But we shall never, ever, ever, as the Blessed Ned Kelly is our witness, EVER even enter the far left lane. What the fucking fuck do you think we fought at Gallipoli for? That’s fucken right! This! And fuck you and fuck how you wanna speed and pass slower-moving vehicles!
You’re not thinking of the fucken children, are you, you criminal terrorist fuck? They are our future! Speed kills! It’s on all the signs, you illiterate hooligan prick! Truth! Fact!
And you know something? I’m not thinking of the children. I’m thinking of you. I’m thinking of you hogging that right lane like the Supercunt you obviously are. I’m thinking about following you to your next stop, even if it takes me 1000kms out of my way, and setting the universe to rights. Future generations will thank me.
But you? You will not thank me. You’re gonna make some noise, for sure. But the noise you make will not be gratitude-based. It will be the brute, wild noise of an animal crazed by suffering and pain. Your tears will be blood. Your wails of anguish will sunder the sky. You’ll soil yourself. Things will leech from you – none of them will smell of strawberries. I will dig deep to find those things. But I know where they are. And I know how to find them. My people were taught cruelty by the Turks. I would teach those things to you.
Suffering is the greatest of all teachers. And as you have made me suffer with your arrogance, your ignorance, and your selfishness, and thus taught me what you are, so I would teach you what I am.
And I am at wit’s end.
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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.