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Friday, 6 January 2012

Teenage Kicks
An actual improvement
Just a couple of quick questions for the motley yoof of our crumbling nation: 
1. Why in the giddy corners of fuck do teenage boys walk about with their hands down their trousers? 
2. Has all the bollock grasping turned them blind, hence the trend for hair like Frankie Cocozza?
As far as the knacker fumbling goes, I'm at a complete fucking loss. Really, I am. I can think of no good reason why anyone would roam the streets while boshing their knackersacks against the man-made fibres of their looted JJB Sports trackie bottoms. Seriously, the last time I was approached by a man doing this he requested a glimpse of my tits before I punched him and called the police. 
So what's with the public rummaging? Are these yoofs plucking tunes on their scrotal hairs? Perhaps the fear of their bollocks re-ascending is such that they have to constantly exert downward pressure on their clams with ballast hands. Or are they locked in a perpetual cycle of wanking that can only ever be broken by a kiss from Jeremy Kyle?
And talking of baby batter, is this what they use to recreate the nit-fest that is Cocozza's hair? At what point did these dull fucks look at the F-Cock, believe that his hair would do wonders for their social standing and pull their hands out of their trousers long enough to mould their greasy shags into badgers arses?
Worse, do you realise that someone, somewhere is F-Cock's stylist? That they get paid legal tender to make him look like that? Which blind hairdresser got that gig then? You could let Stevie Wonder loose in Toni & Guy with a chainsaw and he couldn't create anything as bad as F-Cock's scalp warmer. 
I dunno, perhaps with all the bag waggling these feckless yoofs are simply transferring their pubes to their heads, like knacker-to-noggin transplants.
Jesus, these really are damming times for the nation's yoof aren't they? Imagine choosing to mould your own image by fusing ball-fussing with hair like the sick-up from a diplodocus. Perhaps it's pity they want, not derision. That and a fistful of wetwipes.
Skanky bastards.



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