Dreary left-wing arse wondering what he did before the internet

A MAN who spends a huge amount of time posting hysterical left-wing comments on websites is genuinely wondering how he coped before the internet.

Tom Booker spends a stupid amount of time each day posting predictable left-wing opinions, such as all Tories being evil bastards or wittily referring to Brexit as ‘Brexshit’.

Teacher Booker said: “Before the internet, I’ve no idea how I shared banal opinions like my firmly held belief that Thatcher ruined Britain with her ‘culture of greed’.

“The great thing about the internet is that, unlike social gatherings, no one can tell you to change the subject because everyone’s getting bored shitless.

“Without the internet to share my views, I’d actually have to go to some left-wing meetings, and even then I’d feel a bit self-conscious about saying how I’d gleefully piss on Thatcher’s grave.

“Online I’m a dangerous revolutionary who’d happily shoot all the Tory scum, despite actually being the sort of person who captures spiders humanely and puts them safely in the garden.”

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Northerners dying younger to avoid Last of the Summer Wine

NORTHERN men are dying younger to avoid three decades of light-hearted tomfoolery around the Yorkshire Dales. 

An alarming rise in premature deaths in the North of England can be entirely attributed to the effect of the long-running comedy, which residents would rather die than suffer the humiliating torture of becoming.

52-year-old Roy Hobbs of Wetherby said: “First of all, long, happy retirements are for soft Southern jessies.

“Second, I don’t want to end up like those lads. Wandering up hill and down bloody dale for decades, prisoner in a rough-humoured purgatory, only blessed with the release of death when a home-made wooden autogyro crashes into a dry stone wall.

“I ain’t going out like that. I’m keeling over in the street the same week I get my engraved clock.”

Dr Helen Archer explained: “While those living in or around London can look forward to long retirements as lawyers or benevolent grandparents, just 200 miles north the only option is to be a peripatetic cloth-clapped fool.

“They should count themselves lucky. My granddad’s from Liverpool and he’s been in four Ken Loach films.”