The Gammon wranglers part 1

Apparently my time will come when all the real Brits, the ones with bald or nearly bald heads and pink, gammony cheeks will rise up, their sweaty little heads glistening in the sunlight and hang me in the street. How gleefully they’ll chant as they winch me aloft and watch me writhing and choking for daring to disagree with them, the self-styled guardians of free speech who want to kill anyone who dares to say things they don’t want to hear. Snowflakes!

If you’re angry at the way working people have been treated by this callous government and its wealthy supporters – So am I. I hate how my society has been torn apart in the interests of corporate profit and the rich. If you want things to change for the better – so do I.

But if you want to scapegoat the innocent Muslims and immigrants who live around the corner just because the Gammon-wranglers, the bastard bankers, corrupt cabinet ministers and multinational company directors are out of your reach then I will oppose you and your stupid, shiny-headed, gammony hatred in every way that I can.