Fresh from a ventilator our Richard Fairbrass is still not too sexy for his anti vax shirt.
A scourge on society that one.
What I don’t get is why in the press (not going to say ‘MSM’ as I would sound like a right bleep) that these protestors are against mandatory vax passports, blah blah, when nearly all of them are protesting because they believe we are being purposely culled by a pweirdo elite, the weird fucks.
bleeping astonishing what someone will do to keep their name in lights. Imagine it:
Phone rings:
Good morning Aged Talent Agencies.
Morning luv, it’s Fred here.
Who?
Fred darling, it’s me.
I’m sorry, who are you again?
Fred Fairbrass, you remember me, Right said Fred?
I’m sorry, I’m new to the agency. I don’t know who you are.
(The silly Wanker launches into a really
tit acoustic version of I’m too twatty, gets all the words wrong, and ends with a flourish)
I’m sorry sir, I still can’t quite place you, anyway how can I help?
I’m looking for work, anything really.
You’re a singer?
Well, yeah.
Ah. (Flicks through some papers)
We’ve no gigs right now I’m afraid.
Nothing? Not even a few nights at the Winter Gardens?
No, sorry. (Flicks through more papers) Oh, wait a minute. Ethel and Tommy Postlethwaite are wanting a singer for their Golden wedding party. It’s £50 cash. It’s at Hyde Skin and Fat social club. Fancy it?
No, not really. Is there nothing at all that can bring me to the attention of the media?
Well, most failing, decrepit, aged has beens are jumping on the anti vax wagon so……
(Wanker rudely interrupts…)
YES YES, I’ll do it. What do I need to do?
Well, just be a wanker and tell everyone how you’re refusing the vaccine, Covid doesn’t exist, you’d rather get Covid and recover etc. The Sun will pick it up for sure.
Cheers love. I’m on it………… Er….. ask our Dickie if he can do Ethel and Tommy’s party, he’s looking for work as well.
Ok, thank you.
Phone goes silent. Receptionist bangs head on desk and says “For
duck sake, I wish these bastards would just eat
tit and die”.
bleeping astonishing what someone will do to keep their name in lights. Imagine it:
Phone rings:
Good morning Aged Talent Agencies.
Morning luv, it’s Fred here.
Who?
Fred darling, it’s me.
I’m sorry, who are you again?
Fred Fairbrass, you remember me, Right said Fred?
I’m sorry, I’m new to the agency. I don’t know who you are.
(The silly Wanker launches into a really tit acoustic version of I’m too twatty, gets all the words wrong, and ends with a flourish)
I’m sorry sir, I still can’t quite place you, anyway how can I help?
I’m looking for work, anything really.
You’re a singer?
Well, yeah.
Ah. (Flicks through some papers)
We’ve no gigs right now I’m afraid.
Nothing? Not even a few nights at the Winter Gardens?
No, sorry. (Flicks through more papers) Oh, wait a minute. Ethel and Tommy Postlethwaite are wanting a singer for their Golden wedding party. It’s £50 cash. It’s at Hyde Skin and Fat social club. Fancy it?
No, not really. Is there nothing at all that can bring me to the attention of the media?
Well, most failing, decrepit, aged has beens are jumping on the anti vax wagon so……
(Wanker rudely interrupts…)
YES YES, I’ll do it. What do I need to do?
Well, just be a wanker and tell everyone how you’re refusing the vaccine, Covid doesn’t exist, you’d rather get Covid and recover etc. The Sun will pick it up for sure.
Cheers love. I’m on it………… Er….. ask our Dickie if he can do Ethel and Tommy’s party, he’s looking for work as well.
Ok, thank you.
Phone goes silent. Receptionist bangs head on desk and says “For duck sake, I wish these bastards would just eat tit and die”.
Just realised I’ve got the wrong brother, but it’s the thought that counts