The great pretender at work
No one worth a damn reads a blog on a Friday and good for them, unlike me most bloggers have a real life, so I will add this to my latest Facebook account where it appears that I have a wider audience of gullible mongs who crave attention and lie through their two remaining teeth. And I don't just mean those fat weemen fuckers amongst you. I'm talking to my ghey following of rams, bucks and bears. An animal magnetism is what I definitely have. That's probably why I am banned from the Bronx zoo.
A certain, well I don't want to call her a blogger, has accused me of never having served in the military. I just wanted to remind her that other cuntries than the US do have a military, far better ones than the US military I must add. No, I won't bring up who has won and lost most wars between the USA and the UK as that would be like comparing a seasoned veteran warrior (like me) against a young fat wee seal clubbing cry-baby.
Don't worry yanks some day you'll beat some semi stone-age culture like gooks in the jungle or Arab's in the desert. Let's just hope that 30,000 Brits don't have to die due to your "accidental" firing. Murdering gung-ho bastids.
The picture above is me when I served with the Spartans along with my 300 hand picked brave Irish Republican soldiers to fight off the Proddies or the ghey Englanders. We were called the Orange Squeezers, also very ghey, but so fitting for me in particular. Yep we kicked the Prod arses and yep I have framed pictures of myself all over the house in various other nations militaria. I look very fetching in my Viet-Cong Generals uniform, so many medals, so few corpses. You coontz keep forgetting that I am a half-man half-mong trying desperately to establish an identity by choosing the toughest nations I fantasise about.
So far I have been McScottish, it worked well with my ginger hair, red bunny eyes and pale skin, but I failed at that when I shat myself when a car backfired and I yelled for my Maw. I was Northern Irish for about a year, again I failed miserably at that, the powers that be over there can recognise a pretender when they see one. I still have the scars where they removed my foreskin with pair of kitchen tongs and a cheese grater. Then I had a go at being a french fries loving, burger scoffing, arrogant cock sucking American. I got the cock sucking bit right, nyuk nyuk. Going forward I am now claiming to be a Brit. This is a grey, not ghey, ok, possibly ghey nondescript smokescreen which ties me down to no cuntry other than the one I am in at the time. I plan on being Italian this evening, just about an hour after I have barfed up my pizza.
This my dear Troll is something you'll be seeing soon. Me.. If I am finally allowed back in to the USA then I shall aim to be a Marine! If not, well then fuck it, I don't need to prove myself to Americans, you should be smart enough you'd know what a trained keeler I am, remember the Alamo? I didn't kill 500 Japs at Normandy just to have some fat reality show loving cunt question me.
I didn't kill 3,000 Russians at the battle of the belly bulge during the cold war just to have some pussy lover delete my comments on their blog because I is funnier than a hairy legged Canadian lesbian.
And most of all I didn't kill JFK .............. no wait I think I may have. Don't worry I have a statue of limitations, well its actually a lamp.