Archive for the ‘Dispatches From Trump’s Arse’ Category

 

Trump

Donald Trump, yesterday

 

I’m completely bloody bonkers me! Any trub from North Korea – lob a nuke at the buggers. Take THAT, Jong-Un, ya bastid! Iran getting a bit lippy with the old nuclear treaty – WOLLOP! Threaten to shove a thermo up their backside and see how the bastards like it! Why? BECAUSE I’M BLUDDY MAD!!

Seriously, some people thought I was just putting this on when I was running to be Mr Big Pants of The United States, but they failed to understand that I believe a race of cheese-monkeys live in my testicles, and they’re all called Nigel. And the good thing about that is, no bugger knows just how bluddy unstable I can really be. If I was some sort of statesman they could go “Ooh, well, it’s only a bit of sabre rattling, isn’t it? He’ll calm down in a minute and we can all sit around the table and have a nice cuppa and talk about it.” But when you’re as completely bloody hatstand as I am then NO fucker knows what you’ll do next. I could stick a bowl of soup on my head, set fire to my underpants, or launch a volley of mega-death at some bastard who thinks he’s got a bigger knob than I have. NOBODY KNOWS! That’s the benefit of being absolutely ruddy nutty!

And everyone in the White House is too ruddy scared to even raise a finger in dispute, in case I stick them through the arse-kicking machine like I did to Spicer and all the other bastards. Spicer tried to stop me flushing the Veep’s head down the toilet, so I FIRED HIS BOTTOM! Because I’m the BLUDDY PRESIDENT AND I CAN DO WHAT I WANT!!

“Ooh, he’s not being very presidential, is he?” Knob off, you fannies! I’m the most POWERFUL MAN IN THE WORLD, and if I want to go to another country and threaten to start a third world war, then that’s my bloody right, as the biggest knob on the planet! Putin thinks he’s roughty-toughty, but only I’m freakin’ off-the-chain enough to even SERIOUSLY contemplate the utter end of humanity because Jong-Un called me a limp-dick bellend. I have my finger on the button, folks, and the other one up my bumhole, because that’s how I communicate with the Nazi space aliens that live in the arse of Venus.

That’s another thing! I think Hitler is great, so why shouldn’t I give props to my white-supremacist homies when I want too. I’M THE FUCKING PRESIDENT!!! Next week I’m going to make all immigrants wear a big sign around their necks saying ‘I AM A TWAT’, and I can do that, and everyone will have to listen to me and do what I want, because I have more power than Mr T, and that’s a ruddy, flippin’ lot of power! So, don’t mess with me, people, because if Stephen Colbert, John Oliver and Samantha Bee do any more of that satirising of me being a massive cock hammer, then I’m going to send a big tank around their houses to run over their balls. Let’s see how the bastards like that!

Anyway, I must depart as I have another country to threaten. Those gits in the Isle of Wight have been giving it some lip lately, so time to threaten them with a thermo-nuclear arse-kicking the fuckers will NEVER FORGET!!!

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Trump fist raise

Me, definitely not about to do a Nazi salute, yesterday

 

Morning, citizens of the world. I am definitely Donald Trump and most certainly not someone else. I AM HIM!! So sad, fake news, media sucks, etc. Anyway, I’ve been getting a lot of criticism over the months – that is me, Donald Trump – about some of the more challenging aspects of my time playing conkers with the head of security.

First of all, transgender people in the military. Yuck!! Can’t have that. I’m not discriminating against them, as that would make me an utter and complete bastard, which I definitely am not, because I’m the President and you’re no,t so suck my tadger. Anyway, we can’t have them transgender people in the military as it might confuse everyone around them, and quite frankly it confuses me. I DON’T FIND THEM SEXY!! I deny that right now. If a soldier can’t play willy-fights in the showers with his mates then it’s not worth being in the military.

Second of all, it has been put forward that I would fellate the Nazis if only they gave me their vote, and that’s not right, because I actively and totally believe that all foreign types are evil and those lovely chappies in the white supremacist club have the right idea, and luckily enough they don’t have any grief against orange people or else I’d be right in the shitter. Still, they’re lovely and fluffy and wouldn’t hurt a fly, unless that fly was a Muslim or Mexican or black or Asian or, well, basically everyone except fat, ugly, cunt-faced shit buckets, as Kenneth Frazer put it whilst introducing me to the ‘slam your bollocks in the fridge door’ club. Lovely chap. If only he was white.

Next, some people slapped their balls in my gorgeous face over my handling of the Korean crises. They said two fat men having a shouting contest because they both have tiny knobs was unbecoming of world leaders. They said Obama would have handled this much better by being cool and street and hep, and that I was just a flailing bag of wobbly lard with an ego-fixation and tiny hands who had about as much common sense as nothing whatsoever – not even a pile of shit – which would have at least considered the options before spouting a load of old cockrings, but they’re ALL WRONG!! Everyone loved it when I said we’d unload our pants all over Kim Jong-uns big, stupid face. I have evidence. Read this e-mail below for FACTS, not fake media (so sad, etc).

“Hello, Donald. I’d first like to say you have an enormous penis and all the girls don’t laugh at it when you get the tweezers out to pry it from your ballsack – that’s a complete lie. Massive knob. FACT! Anyway, I thought it was fantastic when you showed that ruddy North Korean chap what’s ruddy what, and I speak for every single person in the entire universe. Yours with big, smoochy kisses and lots of bottom touching, Tonald Drump.”

There we go – irrefutable evidence that everyone thought I was right. Over the next few days I imagine there’ll be a lot more fist waving from Mr. Un, so I’m ready with my next press release, which will call him a big farty poo, after which he will totally capitulate and not destroy life as we know it. Who says I’m childish now!?

 

dog with glasses

Trump’s new head of the FBI

 

 There’s a turn up for the books. Donald Trump has now taken on the physical properties of a dog sitting by a particularly massive poo with the look of innocence on his face whilst trying to pass off the chocolate disaster all over the rug as though it was nothing to do with him. “Well, yes, we did fire Cromey, but only because he smells of wee and was rubbish at his job and called me an orange twat” is the presiding argument for the FBI directors dismissal. Of course, this has nothing to do with him looking into Trump’s connections with Putin, and you would be a fool to think so!

Seriously, who does this gimpy-handed cretin think he’s fooling? Cromey was Trump’s best mate when he was dishing the dirt on Hilary, but once the spotlight swung around to pin the fat bastard to the wall he loses his shit and starts throwing his toys out of the pram, which makes me wonder what the hell Cromey has uncovered in his findings.

It stands to reason that Putin and his bootboys have been interfering in the affairs of the US, much like the US used to interfere in the affairs of every other state that existed. The CIA have a long history of government approved insurrection to destabilise countries unfriendly to US business interests (check out Ghost Wars by Steve Coll – an actual reporter and not a gibbering, spinney eyed conspiracy theorist – for a good historical look at the US and their overseas machinations), and the KGB did the same for Russia, so only an idiot would deny the reality that both sides weren’t still chin deep in the same old shit, regardless of the thaw in the Cold War.

The morality of who is spying on who is not the issue. What IS the issue is Trump’s bare-faced idiocy in believing that anyone but a complete knucklehead would consider any other reason for Trump acting like Cromey had stolen his pants and was parading them in front of the worlds press, which he was – much like when he gazumped Hilary by informing everyone she was a tad lax in her security, which is a bit less worrying than Trump sucking up to Putin’s bald patch and rolling over to have his tummy tickled when the despot clicked his fingers?

Or maybe Trump’s just bluddy mad. After all, he did huff and puff when Russia bombed civilians in Syria, but how much of that was a distraction technique to show the world that Trumpy the Elephant wasn’t in Putin’s pocket? The whole Syrian issue went pretty quiet after the chest beating first round.

Trump has a history of sacking those he considers to be disloyal, but what the yellow-faced wibbling bag of pustulant shite (take THAT, Dorothy Parker!) doesn’t understand is that he can sack anyone he wants, but the investigation will still have to go on. Unless he disbands the FBI, I suppose, which considering Trump is quite possible.

Breaking news, Trump has installed his pet poodle, Sparky the Dachshund, as the new head of the FBI. Sparky will be launching an investigation into tummy rubs, ball chasing, and sniffing bottoms.

 

Peacekeeper_missile

What Trump imagines his knob to be like

 

 We all know Donald Trump is a limp bag of wet dicks, but do we really understand what motivates him in his everyday ideology?  Some unkind souls, for instance, may surmise that he becomes tumescent when anyone waves a Klan outfit near him, and that most nights he gets drunk on moscato, cries like a new-born, and then fires hate-tweets out because he’s ashamed of his yearnings for Putin.

 Trump has been called a bully in the past, what with his attitude to women, Mexicans, blacks – fuck it, just about anyone not wearing a pointed hood and dancing around a burning cross – and his attitude to international relations seems to bear this out.  When North Korea start boasting about how they’ve got a bigger tadger than him and they can do wheelies on their Grifters, the effect is to make Trump rally back that he’s got an anaconda down his trousers and can fly to the moon using only his farts.  I would be tempted to call this ‘playground politics’, but the seven year olds having scraps about whether Batman can beat up the Avengers has more subtle nuances and perceptive insights than this couple of morally obfuscated bellends.

Back in the old days we had the threat of nuclear war.  Reagan and whatever puppet was leading Russia would often bump chests in their doddery, confused way whilst the hawks thumped on the desk and talked about how they had enough nuclear weapons in their pants to fuck the world over more times than the other side.  And the threat of total and utter annihilation from the Powers That be were very real and very scary.  Since Putin and Trump are now Friends With Benefits (the benefits being money and power) Trump has to find a new foe to waggle his tiny fists at, and who better than North Korea.  After all, it’s run by a ruddy nutter with nukes!  Trump can flick the V’s at Kim Jong-un as much as he likes as he knows the Skoda-class weapons they’re threatening to lob at the US won’t make it past South Korea.

War makes politicians think they’re statesmen, hence Michael Howard blathering on about May being willing to pull a Thatcher and send the troops into Gibraltar to kick out Them Foreigns.  It legitimises their position because it costs lives in a more dramatic way than the promotion of prejudice or poverty does.  Trump can bang on about building the wall as much as he likes, but with North Korea he gets the opportunity to show that he’s all growed-up and can do a wee standing up without help from Nanny, and if it escalates he can actuall7y kill people and feel like he’s a proper big boy.

Cliché to say, but they really should send the war mongers into the fray on the front line first, just to see how committed they are to the concepts they promote.  Trump may have trouble though, as his tiny hands would be too teeny to hold a gun properly.

 

Howard Beale

Your Spokesman For Today

A few weeks ago I decided to give up the endless day-to-day mind-scraping hell of producing a daily look at the right wing papes and pointing out what a bunch of scrofulous, gibbering goose stepping bags of old cak they really were, mainly due to the endless repetition of the headlines, and also due to having to get up at 5 every morning to make sure I got my deathless prose out there into The Interweb before I had to go to work.

 

Now I find the same thing is starting to niggle me about that clueless despotic Father of Lies known as Trump.  Every time his purulent, angry, face hoves into view on a news report and his tiny hands form that ‘O’ of witless point-making on the dais and the endless, endless bullshit flows like a tide of madness and those gimlet eyes of cloth-headed hatred stare like a backwards farmyard cow at the world, I feel my eternal soul (in nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti) screaming at the walls of its own cage.


Actually, that’s a lie.  I believe in the eternal soul about as much as I believe in Trump’s ability not to be an utter cunt, but the effect is still the same.  I have the same reaction when Nigel Farage’s spluttering frog face bobbles about like one of those nodding dogs in cars as he harrumphs and farts his way through more pro-Brexit shite.  It’s as though society has taken to sloughing off good sense or ethics and decided to go swimming in the Styx, up to its neck in angry bile and muppet politicians who lie, lie, and lie again as long as their box gets ticked and their arses get pampered.  And all the while those without a tub-thumping agenda are pushed to the sides whilst these comedy parodies bimble about like wind-up toys on stage and capture the media and belt out endless swathes of incomprehensibility, and we have to sit there and take this shit as morons like Ian Duncan-Smith tell us with a straight face that the poor and the disabled are responsible for their own misfortunes, and May shrieks in discordant, hawking gobbets of congealed piss that Brexit will be easy and there’ll be nothing to worry about and EVERYTHING WILL BE ALRIGHT because those with the smallest minds have been allowed to dictate our future.  And we cower and protest and say “Why me? Why me?  Why me?” because that’s all we can do as the world marches with open eyes and open arms into this totalitarian Apocalypse of the Dumb as they determine our rules and our regulations and set out with a specific agenda to tear down the walls of regulation and sense and crush us into hiding in our holes because to argue is to stare into the face of dim-witted, uncomprehending hate and apathy.

Trump is in the hands of his business partners, as is Farage and the rest of the con-artists who have fooled the voting public into tearing down the walls which restrict their profit margins.  They can holler and wail and say “It’s nothing to do with us, we just want our country back, we just want big business off our backs” but they have voted, with Trump and Brexit, for a future FILLED with the glory of crass, open globalisation on an almighty scale.  Trump will out for profit, and nothing more.  The forces behind Brexit wish to dismantle European regulations, again for profit, and nothing more.  Our future is with Enormo-corp, and the man behind the curtain pulling the strings of those who voted ‘for change’.

Today’s broadcast has been brought to you by Howard Beale and Globo-com.

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A neutron, the size of which is 1.00866491588(49) unified atomic mass units, which is still a billion times bigger than Donald Trump’s tiny penis

Remember when Trump was campaigning back in 2016, and when it looked like he was going to win everyone shrugged and talked about how his idiocy and racism was just a front, and that once he signed his name on the dotted line he’d stop acting like a whirling bucket of shit and start acting like the leader of the United States?  They were good days, weren’t they, because back then the actuality of this gibbering moron stamping his big, paint covered fists onto executive orders in lieu of signing them and then laughing in a slack jawed, unfocused way at his nearest flunky seemed like a pipedream.

Some of the saner minds have pointed out that an executive order is not enshrined in law, and that the order to build the wall is merely an option for companies to put in their bids for the costs, and that the order to re-open the Keystone XL and Dakota Access oil pipelines are merely so that the Army Corps of Engineers can finish their environmental impact statement on the areas the pipelines will be running through, but everyone knows this is merely the distraction from the proper card trick.  His actions concerning banning visitors from countries which he personally won’t profit from show clearly how his febrile, diseased, Caligulaesque mind works.  His actions since his inauguration have not been those of a considerate and thinking mind, but those of a stupid, tiny-handed gimp of a child, bawling hatred with a face covered in lard.  Trump is blundering spite, privileged whining and bigoted hyperbole made flesh, much as Farage – the puppet which aims to please – is the UK’s version, endlessly banging the high-top table until it gets the dinner it wants.

I get the feeling Trump is firing out these executive orders just to go ‘nyeh’ at the establishments which point out what a gimpy little spanner headed dick he is, with a micro-penis so small even gnats laugh at how tiny it is.  The mainstream media has courting him relentlessly when he was the comedy clown, blundering through the campaign and making his fellow nominees chuckle at his wacky antics.  Now the fucker has his hands on the button and is dead set and proving what a big boy he is and how he can poo in the grown-up’s lav.  This WILL get worse. He’s stamped down on immigration, Mexicans, the climate, sacked anyone who spoke out against him or rescinded his orders and has shoe-horned in his glassy eyed, Nazi saluting wall of Yes men to tell him how big his balls are, and this party will keep on rolling until it stamps all civil liberties into the history books.

From a UK perspective it’s pretty sickening to have May fawning over his insane actions and rhetoric, but then May’s so desperate for any trade now we’re shafting the EU up the marmite he could slap the Queen around the face with his mouldy old cock and she’d still come shuffling along behind him, tugging her forelock and asking for a few spare coins for the gas meter.  It doesn’t help that Farage has been barking and quacking away in the background, hoping for a sniff of a position in the orange twat’s Regime of Bollocks and Hate.

On the plus side the resistance has been strong, with even the more socially conscious Republicans coming out against his unconstitutional bullshit, and people in positions of power telling him to knob off, but then Trump’s response will be to fire and deselect those who stand in his way, gag the press, do a big shit on a podium and tell the world it’s gold, and then hustle in a new era of state-sponsored insanity.  Let’s hope the voices of dissension which refuse to be kowtowed grow stronger.

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Trump’s idea of what an abortion clinic looks like.

I think we need to get over this whole obsession with words like ‘alternative facts’ and ‘post-truth’ and just settle on the catch-all phrase ‘bullshit’, because that’s what we’re going to be dealing with for the next four years.  If we can substitute ‘President’ with ‘Moronic man-child with a tiny hands fixation and no sense of perspective’ that would make things easier as well.  Or just simply ‘dick’.

As anyone who reads the news understands, facts are merely representative of the idiots who feed them to you.  For instance, one look at the front cover of any UK tabloid with lead you down a shiny path of ‘facts’ which bear no connection to quantifiable realities and have more to do with a strange nether-world where opinion is just as viable as anything based on research.  All Trump and his gibbering lounge-act of thoughtless baboons have done is take that concept and feed it to a populace tired with the status quo.

Trumpy the Elephant’s first few days in office have already seen him act like a spoiled child, egged on by a cabinet which seems to be bulging at the ballbag with squabbling, petty drones, aping his temperament and talking scrofulous tides of multi-coloured bullshit at every opportunity.  After one tramp and his dog turned up to Trump’s kegger party the Republican Press Spokeswanker, Sean Spicer, tried to convince the world that the big empty spaces seen in the aerial photographs were actually hordes of raving fans all writhing in orgasmic ecstasy every time Trump tried to pronounce an adjective which didn’t have his name as the subject matter.  After more sensible and stable minds tried to convince Spicer he was talking out his rear loader there was a backtrack which involved jumping through some serious hoops to explain away the fantasy he’d created for himself, which ended up with him calling the media – in so many words – a bunch of big bullies and they should stop ganging up on the POTUS or he might take his ball back.

Trump then decided to get his own back on all those bluddy wimmin who marched against the fact that he was a scurrying sewer cock snuffling in the collected urine of a thousand enemies by stopping money going to health initiatives abroad which discussed abortion.  Mind you, this is something the Republicans do as a matter of course once they get their grubby fingers on the nukes, so no surprises there.  Thrown into this mix was his deluded proclamation that the entire CIA had tried to fellate him in joy as he said nice words in their direction, which sparked off a whole new war of bollocks between reality and Trumpy’s Wall of Pricks who stand between him and the world beyond his force-field-wig which he had installed decades ago once everyone started referring to him as ‘that tiny handed arse on the toilet seat of humanity’

I was actually going to try and write something a lot more incisive, witty and perceptive about the Dumpy’s Rusty Nuts of Presidents, but after meandering through reports of the utter cak his press office is putting out I‘m afraid my only recourse to this shit is childish swearing.  I would apologise but he deserves it, the penis.