This nonsense, this nonsense here. / There is no recovery, man. Unemployment is not going down. It's all zero hours, and Workfare, and people being "disappeared". The Guardian writes about it (a bit). The Mirror writes about it (a bit more). But what about the financial media? Where are they on this issue? Are they working for the government?
This country is corrupt like a third world country, son (daughter). You can't trust anyone or anything. And it's all going down the toilet, in slow motion. I'm watching it, dear reader(s). Most people are asleep. (Are you asleep? I hope you are. I mean, I envy you if you are asleep.) / I was reading an article yesterday about Boris Johnson replacing David Cameron as PM, and then I thought to myself: Hang on a minute! They're saying one Bullingdon Club boy is going to replace another Bullingdon Club boy. What the fuck is going on?! 'Maybe George Osborne will take over, boss.' Yeah. He was in that blasted club too, Voice, you moron!
I give up! Even the Voice has fallen for the bullshit. / There's got to be a way out ... 'You reckon?'
...
Oh, by the way, I'm using my more expensive T-Mobile dongle thing (I wish they wouldn't call it that) today because Vodafone decided they wanted to take a day off. NO SIGNAL! Fair enough, I suppose. But why am I paying them £20 a month? 'You're doing it out of the kindness of your heart, Mikey.' Of course!
Don't tell me this is a great country, man, where everything is fine, where everyone can be trusted, where you don't get ripped off or fucked up at every opportunity.
I want to live in Malibu!!! 'How will Malibu be any different, boss?' Well, firstly, Voice, I'll be rich. But, secondly, they've got that sheriff there, ain't they? He'll deal with any problems. 'Oh yeah, I forgot.'
Keep your ugly fucking goldbricking ass out of my beach community, Lebowski!
Or to paraphrase -
Mr Fowke draws a lot of water in this town. You don't draw shit, Lebowski.
Rant over.
This country is corrupt like a third world country, son (daughter). You can't trust anyone or anything. And it's all going down the toilet, in slow motion. I'm watching it, dear reader(s). Most people are asleep. (Are you asleep? I hope you are. I mean, I envy you if you are asleep.) / I was reading an article yesterday about Boris Johnson replacing David Cameron as PM, and then I thought to myself: Hang on a minute! They're saying one Bullingdon Club boy is going to replace another Bullingdon Club boy. What the fuck is going on?! 'Maybe George Osborne will take over, boss.' Yeah. He was in that blasted club too, Voice, you moron!
I give up! Even the Voice has fallen for the bullshit. / There's got to be a way out ... 'You reckon?'
...
Oh, by the way, I'm using my more expensive T-Mobile dongle thing (I wish they wouldn't call it that) today because Vodafone decided they wanted to take a day off. NO SIGNAL! Fair enough, I suppose. But why am I paying them £20 a month? 'You're doing it out of the kindness of your heart, Mikey.' Of course!
Don't tell me this is a great country, man, where everything is fine, where everyone can be trusted, where you don't get ripped off or fucked up at every opportunity.
I want to live in Malibu!!! 'How will Malibu be any different, boss?' Well, firstly, Voice, I'll be rich. But, secondly, they've got that sheriff there, ain't they? He'll deal with any problems. 'Oh yeah, I forgot.'
Keep your ugly fucking goldbricking ass out of my beach community, Lebowski!
Or to paraphrase -
Mr Fowke draws a lot of water in this town. You don't draw shit, Lebowski.
Rant over.
