FUCK THE FUCK OFF!
I've just walked through the centre of Bournemouth in my lunchbreak - what should be a relatively straightforward exercise. Only it isn't, is it?
No, I don't want a flyer advertising your comedy club. No thanks, I'm not interested in donating to Save The Children. It's okay, I don;t want to buy a Big Issue. No, it's okay, I don't want a flier about a new club night at Dusk Till Dawn. Sorry, I'm not interested in a leaflet about scientology. No, excuse me, I don't want to hear you talking about how God saved us all either. No, I don't want a subway sub for lunch, I've already eaten thanks. No, fuck off Greenpeace I don't want to give you my credit card details to save the world either. And no, I don;t want a new mobile phone contract either.
FUCK OFF YOU BUNCH OF FUCKING CUNTS. GET A PROPER FUCKING JOB AND STOP BOTHERING ME WITH YOUR SHITTY FUCKING LEAFLETS.
I'm off to leave the telly on overnight just to piss off the tree-hugging cunt from Greenpeace who wouldn;t take no for an answer.
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