I have been asked for more of Postman Pat and Thomas the Tank Engine and friends so do not blame me for what will follow.

I didn’t know that farmer was a gay fucker. Poor Pat.

Remember Ernest? Well he’s back too with a new friend Gail.

Gee Gail seems like a nice girl. Somehow i think Steve is going to get into more trouble.

Yes I was right poor old Steve just can not help himself

Burn Baby Burn

Remember those idiots from Monday?

Well here are a few more to terrorize parent’s.

Enjoy!!!!!!

Love his belly tat. Imagine a daughter bringing home this?

and the very last one

Now for all the Dads, how to make sure your children do not date or do this to themselves!

Do you want to know  how???????????????????????????????????

OK.

The very first time they come home or bring someone home with piercings.

1. Get insulated pliers

2. Put right foot on said persons throat.

3. Hold on to offending jewelry with said pliers.

4. Pull like bloody hell.

Just hope the Judge has kids as well and your home free.

Burn Baby Burn

I owe my best of bestest cousin Debbie for this post. She is my favorite cousin of all time.

She knows my humour and sends me titt bits like this. Thanks Cous.

Good Day and welcome to a brand new edition of :

‘ASYLUM’
Today’s program features another chance to take part in our exciting competition:
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‘ASYLUM’
Prizes include all-expenses-paid accommodation, cash benefits starting at $800 a week and a chance to earn thousands more begging, mugging and
accosting drivers at traffic lights.
This competition is open to everyone
just buy a ticket to Indonesia
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No application ever refused – reasonable or unreasonable.
All you have to do is destroy all your papers or burn your boat once you
enter Australian waters and remember the magic password:
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They joined tens of thousands of other lucky winners already staying in hotels all over Australia …
Our most popular destinations also include the Baxter’s Reef and the world famous Christmas Island Resort.
If you still don’t understand the rules, don’t forget, there’s no need to phone a friend or ask the audience
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‘ASYLUM’

“FOR FUCK SAKE”

This might be funny except it sounds oh to familiar.

White Australian born Males are the most discriminated against humans in the entire world.

Pay your taxes, work hard so our government can let in bloody arseholes with one word of English.

And if the government say’s No you can’t come in.

Here is free yes free legal aid paid for buy our taxpayers to,

go to court and tell us we are racists and our soft cock legal system

will let you in and then sue the poor bastards who said no you can’t come in.

Some say we are the lucky country.

Only if you were born somewhere else.

Burn Baby Burn

Today I am watching Australia’s V8 Supercar’s  Racing around Surfers Paradise street circuit. The one Indy cars use to race on up to last year so I though this was appropriate.

These are David Letterman’s 10 top reasons why there are no black drivers in the American NASCAR series. It is also why there are none in the Australian V8 Supercar series as well.

The Reasons

10: You have to sit upright to drive a race car.

9: There is no passenger seat for the Ho.

8: The engine noise drowns out the rap music.

7: Cadillacs are not approved  race cars.

6: The pit crew cannot work on the race car and hold their pants at the same time.

5: Police cars on the race track at the same time interfere with the race.

4: Your pistol will not stay under the front seat.

3: They keep trying to carjack Dale Earnhardt Jr.

2: When they crash their cars they bail out and run.

And the number one reason there are no blacks driving in NASCAR or V8 Supercars!

1: You are not allowed to wear your helmet sideways.

I know “Racist” but we are all RED in Hell!

Burn Baby Burn

Last one, Then I might look at restaurants!

This bloke is just a Dick.

Should put his gun to his ear Maybe?

Playboy bunnies for a 12 year old?

Same bloke wrote this that made the birthday card me thinks.

And the very last one is for the Ladies.

I know! I know! I am going to hell maybe sooner than i think.

Burn baby burn

I’m not an overly religious person.
Spiritual, yes, religious, not so much.
I have my beliefs and ways of giving thanks, some of which would be considered conventional, others that would simply make you roll your eyes.
The Royal North Shore Hospital in Sydney has decided this is what they need to do in order to “move with the times”
Now, whilst I don’t need symbols, books or particular places to worship, there are millions of people to whom they provide enormous comfort, and I have no issue with that.
Believe in what you will because that’s your right, but our country is based on Christian principles, and has been since it’s birth.
Whether we like it or not, ours is a Christian society.
If you’re a person of deep faith and have a relative who may be close to eternal peace, make sure you don’t have them admitted to the RNS, because if you want to draw comfort from their chapel, you’ll need to take along your own bible and cross.
Given we are on the eve of a major Christian celebration, I felt it appropriate I do this post tonight.
I’m so sick to death of PC bullshit, I wanna vomit.

I thought the law here in Oz was the pits until I read this story.

Vomit inducing bullshit

I don’t know what to say.

Gobsmacked.

Stunned.

Outraged.

Nauseous.

All of the above.

This is apparently justice for a young girl imprisoned for 24 years by her own father, sexually abused and made to bear 7 of his children {effectively her brothers and sisters} one of which he left to die for fear of being exposed for what he is.

I almost despair of a race that has his type in it, and I despair totally of the “justice” system that allows this to happen.

People wonder why I drink.

Check the story and let me know if I need to bring in some extra booze, and an arrival time would help too.

That’s who I look like in my passport photo!

FFS, how do they do it?

I hate having my photo taken at the best of times, and maybe that comes through, who knows, but it seems to me every time a passport pic gets done, it’s always THE worst pic you ever saw.

Unless it’s a drivers license, because they’re just as bad.

Do they trawl the community for the most inept person they can find, or maybe it’s part of the key selection criteria for the job??

I can see the ad now.

WANTED

THE most useless photographer ever born, to take passport and license photos.
Must have the eye of a blind man for focusing and be able to make people look as if they belong behind bars.
No experience required, however good timing would be an advantage, because it is essential to ensure a person is blinking as the photo is taken.
Debating skills could also be useful in order to argue with the subject when they demand another pic be taken, as we are not allowed to do this.
Determination would be advantagous in this area.

It’s a photo. I have an 8 year old granddaughter that could do better than some of these fucking morons.

How badly do I want to take that camera and shove it up this bloke’s arse, you ask??

VERY BADLY!!!

Before anyone asks, NO, I will NOT be posting the pic.

Those we’re going to see may, just MAY, see it once we’re there, but other than that, only customs will have the {dubious} pleasure.

Generation F you ask?
We’ll get to that.

We rarely go to fast food joints.
When I say fast food, I mean the likes of chew and spew, KFC and Hungry Jacks.
Having said that, now and again my body screams at me for crap, and I’ve learned to oblige when the urge takes me.
So.
The other night the urge came over me, and off we went to get some shit food.
Chinese? Nope.
Indian? Nope.
Maybe Thai? Nope.
I needed a greasy burger, shitty fries and crappy post mix soft drink.
Nothing else would suffice.
Off we went to Hungry’s place cos it’s better than chew and spew and I can’t stomach KFC. It’s too crappy even for me!
In we go and there they are.
Generation F.
Track pants down near their knees, {grubby} Calvin Kleins hanging out the top, baseball caps back to front, greasy hair, attitude that would stop a soldier with an AK47 and mouths on them like gutters.
Every second word is fuck, or that other 4 lettered word I can’t handle.
{You know, the one that starts with C}
There’s around 8 to 10 of them I guess, mainly guys, but 1 female.
Yep. Just one.
Guess who’s mouth was the worst? No prizes for getting that one right.
Anyway.
We order, get our food and sit as far as possible from the twerps.
Did that make our dining experience any better? {well, not dining, but you know what I mean}
Hell no!
Mouths on them like a canyon and speaking {I use that term very loosely!!} at a volume that would put any rock concert to shame.
My tolerance for these kids is at an all time low.
They have an attitude that needs rearranging, and seemingly think everyone within a 2 block radius wants to know their expletive riddled opinion on everything.
From the last time they got laid to what they think is important.
When I say important, I refer to Crap music, game consoles, how good they are on said consoles, how high their last mobile bill was and the latest mouthful they gave their parents as the poor souls attempted some modicum of control over their {disappointing} offspring.
I have a question at this point {without the cracks from the peanut gallery I mean}
Am I just getting old?
Were we really THAT bad?
I know we all rebelled, had arguments with our parents and those things, but there is NO way were like this, surely?
I wasn’t game to speak like they do in public, and I still don’t.
Yes, I do on here now and then, and in fact have used that F bomb in this post, and I do at home sometimes, but there is a time and place for everything.
Call me a dinosaur if you want, but I don’t think any public place, not even a burger joint, is the place for this type of thing.
If any of my girls had spoken like that anywhere, let alone in public, their heads would still be spinning from the kick in the arse that would have ensued.
Please, noone say their parents can’t hear them when they’re not around. These kids speak TO {read AT} their parents in the same manner, so they’re well aware of what they’re like.
Going to the shopping centre has become a lesson in how NOT to speak or act in public, and is also quite the chore. It’s not something I look forward to anymore.
Everywhere you go, there they are. In packs even!!
Loud, brash, no respect for anyone or anything, speaking in a language that defies any logical interpretation and so full of themself that all I want to do is slap them on the back of the head, tell them to knock it off, and act like a human being not some uneducated neandrathal.
Perhaps they should go home where they belong, or maybe to school, because much of the time it’s the middle of they day.
What really scares me is my grandchildren will have to live in a world with leaders that come from the generation I’m referring to.
That’s one hell of a depressing thought.
Generation F?
FUCKED
I thought it appropriate I use their favourite word to describe them.

Please know this is a genralisation. It’s what I see and hear around me is the bottom line.
I know many are not like this, however it would seem the good are out weighed by about 10 to 1

Today was my weekend.
Yes, I know there are ordinarily 2 days in a weekend, but life has not been ordinary of late, so only having one day seems to just fit right in!!
Now, in order to understand the intrinsic nature of this post, there are a few little items of note that you should be made aware of.
1. It’s been raining solid for almost 3 weeks, and I’m over it! Seriously over it.
Yes, that’s life in the tropics, I know.
For the brilliant, balmy weather, we have a wet season for anything up to 3 months.
This is our 5th summer here, and it’s the only one that has ever come close to having what is a true wet season, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it, now does it??
2. Between Tuesday morning and last night I have worked a total of around the 70 hours mark, so I may be a little tetchy, with a fuse around the size that would be the throw away part of a 6 week old baby boys circumcision. Maybe I’m just irrational, who knows???
3. What was a tropical low off the coast is now being referred to as tropical cyclone Ellie. Not a big cyclone though, only expected to be a category one, so it’s more piss and wind than anything else.
So.
In order to survive, one needs food, so after a Skype call, an unexpected phone call {turns out the phone isn’t dead, it was only the plug had come lose from the wall} doing the washing and having a shower, it was time to enter that entertaining little place known as the supermarket.
First stop, the meat section, spy what looks to be a nice little boneless pork roast, that will do very nicely, thank you very much, mother for the rabbits.
Next stop, the vegie section for pumpkin, onions, plus potatoes, sweet and otherwise.
Sweet ones were not a problem, couple of nice little golden ones will be fine. Onto the others.
At this point, please refer to my third little item of note above.
Do you know, I managed to procure the last 5 potatoes in captivity at Woolworths in Townsville?
Yep! People have heard the word cyclone, can’t hear anything else, and of course they need to go and get enough food, water and gas supplies to sustain a small army platoon in the event of disaster, and, naturally, buying 10 kilos of potatoes will help towards that cause!
Now, how exactly one is meant to cook these potatoes should the power go off as is normal in a cyclone??? Well, that little answer eludes for the time being.
:roll:
Anyway, I grabbed the spuds and threw them out of sight before a fucking manic housewife spied me with them and decided to mug me there and then.
It was at this point I thought I could see what was coming. I was right!!
Not one bottle of water to be found, no UHT milk, tea, coffe, sugar, all basics cleaned off the shelves and 2 little old ladies almost ready to scratch each others eyes out over the 1 remaining jar of Vegemite!
Sheesh!
Grab a few other little bits and pieces and move along again.
Then, a thought! Need peas!
Gotta have peas!!!
I struggle to eat any sort of roast without peas, preferably frozen ones. I love them.
Hmmm…hope I can get frozen peas or I’ll need to rethink dinner.
Down to the freezer section to appease what could be an impending melt down, and PHEW!!! Lots of peas, so I grab a packet, and this happened to be the last thing we need, so it’s time for the checkout.
As I turn away, that’s when I spy them!!!
What’s that you say???
What did I spy???
Well, in the words of a good blogging buddy of mine, Jesus Krispies, Christ in a sidecar, and gag me with a maggot.
E.A.S.T.E.R. E.G.G.S
I kid you not!!!
Large as life for all and sundry to drool over.
E.A.S.T.E.R E.G.G.S????
Give me a break!!! It’s February 1st and they have Easter stuff out????
FFS, the credit card hasn’t had time to cool off from Christmas yet!!!
We haven’t even had the feeding frenzy that normally surrounds Valentine’s Day, and already Bugs has been moulded in chocolate and wrapped in foil!!!????
I came straight home, put the roast on, groceries away and have been drinking bourbon since!
Someone wake me up on July 15th if you would?
I’ll need to pack by then!!