Manure tax hits UK farmers and stables
Would you believe this fucking government has introduced a tax on shit? They’re charging a tax on anybody disposing of farmyard manure. You don’t believe me? For a full breakdown, see this article from those people with horse-sense in Horse and Hound.

Thieving fucking bastards. Why is the electorate in this country so stupid? How could anybody with half a brain vote for this bunch of twats?

Can you make a fertiliser bomb out of manure? If so, you’d be tempted to make a huge, fuck-off one and sit Gordon Brown, Tony Blair and the rest of the incompetent wankers (and those who voted for them) on top of it. Tossers.


Pile of shite
Thank you all for your concerns about my bowels for my train tride to Lundinium tomorrow. I must be mad; I had spicy dahl and carrot soup with granary bread for my lunch today. Jeeeeezussss!

Updates on that one tomorrow evening if I make it back in one piece. But if there’s news of a derailment at Stoke, it’ll probably be something to do with me.

This is just a warning that I’ve got to go travel to London and back by train on Tuesday. A train, how uncivilised. London – Jesus, Mary, mother of God help us all!

Public transport + London = much needed fodder for Cakesniffers

I can’t wait!

I hate buses; they’re shit. They’re rubbish for getting from A to B, unless you’re happy to:

• Walk 10 minutes to A;
• Wait 20 minutes at A;
• Pay some extortionate rate to sit next to some smelly twat on a filthy seat;
• Accelerate really hard then stop really suddenly every 200 metres for 7 miles;
• Change half way through the journey and do it all again until you finally reach good old B (by which time, you’ve either been killed, you’ve lost the will to live, or you smell so badly that you have to turn straight round and go home).

So no, I don’t use them. But, as a motorist, I still encounter them on the roads. Now, back in January, my Cyclists and busdrivers post went into my hatred of, well just about everybody, but cyclists and busdrivers in particular, so you’re spared from another diatribe here. However, having thought that bus companies could do no more to piss me off, the wonder First Manchester company have managed it with the introuction of this fucker:

This is what’s known as a “bendy bus”. It’s essentially two single-decker buses that appear to have been involved in a rear-end shunt and have been repaired with some elastic bands and duct tape. The bendy bus is twice as long as a standard bus, and probably twice as long as anything else you’d see on the road. They’re a fucking waste of space and a danger to other road users: you come to overtake one, thinking it’s a normal bus, then as you get alongside it, you realise that it’s one of these fuckers. Not content with taking up half the width of the road with bloody empty buslanes, the bus companies want to take over the entire length of the road too.

Yesterday, I had the pleasure of being behind one of these, which was following a standard single-decker bus, both devoid of passengers, both operating the same route (that’d be the Number 8 from Bolton to Manchester), operated by First Manchester.

Wankers.

I have no vitriolic attacks for anybody today. This is because I enjoyed a nice day out with a friend. We went to a local National Trust place where there’s a deer sanctuary. It was very nice.

Oh, hang on, there were a couple of complete tossers on the M62 on the way to Warrington: white transit in middle lane, red trasnit pick-up in outside lane, inside lane empty. Both were doing about 60, neither would pull in and at least three cars (me included, your honour) had to undertake in the inside lane to get past them. Wankers. Why don’t they fit cars with rocket launchers?

Anyway, back to my day out… My Italian lessons have taught me how to recognise a scoiattolo:

Calm down, deer

Of course the place we vistited was a deer park, so I wasn’t surprised to see any of these fellers either:

“Who’s blown one off this time, you dirty bastards?”(clicky)

“You see this tongue? You want some?”

I now need to rest up and recharge my acidic little brain. We wouldn’t want Cakesniffers turning into fucking Bambi on a regular basis now, would we?

When people come across your blog through a search engine, have you ever wondered what search terms they’ve used?

Site traffic utilities can show you all sorts of things about the visitors to your website and here are some of the terms that have been recently used by people in Google – they got more than they bargained for when they came across me!

Let’s have a reconstruction…

Hrrrm, well nothing related comes up. I was expecting it to find a particular rant of mine from a while back: Bassssstaaaarrrrrdos!

That’s all I’ve got to say at the moment.

I’m shagged after an eventful evening with a gay woman and my creative juices aren’t flowing as they should be.

Salford City Council are introducing a new scheme to enhance the lives of its shopping precincts’ visitors.

Each day, rounds of the popular 1970s & 80s challenge show “It’s a knockout” will be played out in the shopping centres at Eccles, Swinton, Salford and Walkden. Games will include:

• Pastie payroll, where team members aim savoury pastries at electric scooter baskets and babies’ pushchairs as they weave in and out of the pink dustbins and benches. The winner being the one to collect the highest number of pasties without scoffing the lot before the end of the challenge.
• Sausage roll slaughter involves layabouts stuffing as many piping-hot sausage rolls as possible into their mouths, the pockets of their trackie bottoms, under their baseball caps and in the hoods of their hooded tops. In this challenge, the victor is the person who sustains the fewest third degree burns. Again, competitors are not allowed to eat any of these delicious savoury pastry products.
• Prescription panic is the toughest test of all and it would be impossible without the cooperation of trickster pharmacy chain, Boots. People collecting their repeat prescriptions are strapped to a heart and BP monitor, they then have to negotiate some strategically-positioned instore product stands to reach the pharmacy counter at the very back of the shop. When they get there, they’re informed that their heart pills are out of stock and wont be available for a week due to over prescribing to asylum seekers in Bolton. Ten winning points go to the team with any surviving competitors.

Council spokeswoman, Peggy Babcock said, “We recognise that the vast majority of people who have no choice but to live IN Salford have pointless existences and we want to make their daily outing to collect their prescriptions and pasties an entertaining one. By asking people to form into teams of single mothers, electric scooter users and general layabouts, we hope that people will come together to support each other, at the same time introducing character building challenges to what would otherwise be a mundane and aimless wander round the shops. Moreover, the Town Hall is just over the road from Swinton Precinct and it’ll give us all the opportunity to place bets on the locals while we have a laugh at them. Let’s face it, our only other entertainment happens when Corrie or Peter Kay film here.”

Local charities have condemned the proposals.

A real good treat for all you Henmaniacs out there; well before the start of Wimbledon, here’s Mr Gorgeous at his hypercompetitive best. He’s obviously pleased with himself at getting the top off the bottle of barley water unaided. Well done, Timmy!

“Come onnnnnnnn!!!!!”

He’s living la vida loca – Tiger Timbo roars onto …. errrr…another defeat!

Can’t wait to see him go out at the quarters of Wimbledon AGAIN! But at least he’ll have tried… not hard enough, like, but what does he care? He’s got the Persil money, a Jag and enough trainers to run a stall at the market.

Fuck it, could you imagine if he actually won? You wait however many decades for a British Wimbledon champ and you get him!!!!

Not forgetting the delightful Henmaniacs….

“We fiddle with each other while thinking of Timbo”

For those out there that haven’t already read Sam Black’s blog Half an Identity, get over there and read the bloody thing right from the beginning! For goodness’ sake, where have you been?

Sam often posts comments on this blog as “A Blogger”. Her blog documents her life in the witness protection programme, gives a bit of background as to why she’s in hiding and tells of her current life as a circus clown. You’ve got to read it, honestly.

Just read the thing and tell your mates to have a look too. It’s compelling stuff.

Ok, enough of advertising on behalf of my fellow cakesniffers, I’m off to find something it eat.