Inflation Targets? I Shit 'Em
By Mervyn King, Governor of the Bank of England
Dear Chancellor of the Cocking Exchequer,
As if I did not already have enough on my plate clearing up all your other shit, you now expect me to bend over so you can stick it right up me in public, like some tit-knobbing arse jockey, just because a loaf of bread now costs a clitting fiver. Well try publishing this, fuck-button.
The CPI inflation rate for May, as calculated by the Office of National Knob Counters, is 3.3%. Twatting fuck. This is more than one piss-flap point above your prick-spittle target of 2%. So? What the pissing cock do you want me to do about it, badger balls?
Let’s face it. The inflation target is fucked, you’re fucked and I am so fucking fucked I’ll be lucky if I even get an interview for the governor’s job at the Bank of Beef Curtains. Happy? You tossing drop of snatch butter.
Why has inflation moved away from its target? Are you pulling my wank handle, you felching dog-knobber? Try asking that cock-minging jock maniac friend of yours next door, if you can get him to stop punching you in the shitting face for five minutes.
Let’s keep it simple. The slitty eyes have got cars and the brown people have got cars. They’ve got air-con. They’ve even got fucking telly. And all their kids have stopped dying, so there are fucking tons of them, the minge-winking muff pokers. Thank fuck the Africans are still totally in the shitpen, or else we’d be totally arse-fingered.
It might also have something to do with an unhinged jocko nut fiddler who has spent the last ten years blowing hot air up the arsehole of every homeowner in Britain. No more boom and bust? Fuck titter.
Is it going to get better soon? Is it cock. I’m no expert, but look: the pounds going down the shitter, the rag-heads have turned the taps off and the Ruskies have got our balls in a vice. We don’t actually make a cocking shit in this country anymore which means the chinks can name their pricking price for anything they want to flog us. This time next year you’ll have to sell your daughter to a greasy Romanian just to buy a fucking falafel.
Any road up, better get myself spruced. Going to watch the Euros down Wetherspoons with Bernie from the Fed. Piss-felcher.
Up yours etc.