The Scottish Are Revolting

Armed police were seen all throughout the common wealth games and can be seen on routine patrol in many Scottish towns including ones like Inverness which has a very low crime rate so why the need?
Northern Ireland is the only place in the UK that has an armed police force and that's because of their love of terrorism and riots. England, Scotland and Wales do have armed response teams but not on routine patrols. 

A police patrol in Glasgow.

The vote for Scottish independence will take place on the 8th September, the British government really do not want Scotland to separate from the rest of the UK as they have military bases with nuclear submarines and oil deposits at stake and have employed smear tactics and a control of broadband Internet usage, making it conveniently go out during important debates. 

While there will probably be a NO vote for independence the British government does not want to take the chance and so have armed the police. Outside of Aberdeen and Perth the government has holding camps at the ready for these yes vote dissenters to be held under the domestic terrorism act of 2003.

Over the past 2 years the police have been recruiting more from the lowlands and assigning more English to the upper ranks. The truth is out there, you just have to notice it.

 Teaching the grand kids how to dig shallow graves.

As long time readers will know, Old Knudsen is Scottish and grew up in the small towns of Frigadoon and Killamory before moving to Northern Ireland to sponge off me Belfast granny's pension, aye she's been dead for 8 years and they are still none the wiser. A yes vote for independence automatically strikes his heart as the right way to go, just to be rid of the English but too many people will vote no, out of fear to try something new. 

The Scottish people have been the butt monkeys to the English for centuries but have never just bent over and took it like the Welsh have, freedom has always been on our minds. Find yer balls and vote yes for independence and don't fear the firing squads.     

 

I'm A Bottom Feeder

The post title does not mean I've turned ghey.

What a way to start the week, expect more of the same I'm regular and consistent.

During the summers when I was young in the wee village of Frigadoon we had a festival to mark the time when one of the lost tribes Israel settled in Scotland and founded the village, they were called the Knudsenites originally it was one of the tribes that God wanted completely wiped off the face of the Earth but we promised to change our ways which means we lied of course and continued to orgy and binge drink in private.

Not like God has a clue of whats going on, hes too busy trying to sort out the Catholics and the Muslims with their famous 'we are the best pedos' competition, a close call on that one.

The whole village would sit out on the grass and drink wine made by the vicar, his secret ingredient was Yank tourist blood, he also baked lovely French bread, no Frenchies available so he ground up the bones of an Englishman to make that.
We'd sit and dunk our bread and listen to the cries of the new policeman as he screamed inside the wicker effigy we light up at dusk.

I was young and thought all gurls were icky, I still do and I'd wish they'd clean their stench trenches once in a while, also I wish they would do something about the dampness in their gunties when I enter the room, it smells like a fish market.

There was this gurl named Tracy, Green was her last name but who cared she was the fat ugly gurl that hung around with the hottie. We all called her 'Tracy Tree-trunks ' because it sounded funny and her legs were fat.

Whats that? you say that's cruel? no it isn't its character building, she went on to become a famous swim suit model, no wait that was Stacy Lard arse Tracy was the one that hung herself.

You know thinking back on it maybe it was a tad cruel but hey funny at the time and that's what matters.

Nothing really to do with the story except there is a gurl and a dog.

Now this part is totally true, its a you had to be there moment but I don't care cos its my blog and one of the funniest things I ever saw.

Tracy and her friends were on a blanket about 10 feet from where me and my mates were sitting.

This sandy coloured dog named 'Brownie' that wandered around and no one knew who owned him or if that was his real name or not walked up behind Tracy as she sat there and lifted his leg on her, on the first touch of piss on her back she reacted and shouted, "Hey!" and pushed the mutt away.

I was the only one to have seen it and just busted up laughing. I couldn't make it sound funny at the time either but it was highly amusing to me that brownie singled her out .

It was a good day, I came third in the egg and spoon race and we burned the peeler at dusk in celebration to the dark lord Xanthan. Why is it that the men leading lost tribes never ask for directions?

I'm not upset or in any way dwelling upon my defeat. To say that 10 YouTubes of TV shows etc on the winner's current blog page makes a better blog than mine in any category other than 'best use of YouTubes blog' is easy to accept, maybe the karma of oppressing paddys under British rule has caught up with me, ah well maybe they will see my genius when they learn to speak English.

I may not have won an Irish blog award but I represented the north with futile honour maybe I'll hold 'The Real Irish Blog Awards' but without all that more Irish than thou kinda attitude, if ya wear a shell suit, never sober and snort coke yer Irish enough anyway like I'd give my address to a load of IRA er I mean Irish people so they could post my ticking award to me, nice try.

I have won better, for I have won the coveted Golden Bog Award as given out by the most flushable MJ.

Look at it sparkle, bling bling plonk!

Next year Irish blog awards look out for I'll be going for a losing hat-trick, oh yeah I'm on a roll now I'm off ta take a golden crap, Mj has also promised me a golden shower.

Better than my current crapper with its 40 shades of brown and a long bloody history.

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Spooky Turds On A Stick

I remember Samhuinn as I grew up in the tiny village of Frigadoon. I'm just going to take it for granted that my readers aren't complete morons and know all about Samhuinn or Samhain ............... ok yer right I had better explain it, slowly and clearly without the use of big words.
means summers end and marks the first day of winter, you'd bring the animals into the shelter of the barn, collect whatever harvest yer growing to feed you and the beasts, collect wood peat or dried shit for burning and get to baking, preserving , slaughtering and salting meat , just getting ready for the winter a head.

We'd have a feast because in November the Faeries blast every living plant with their icy breath.

We would eat nuts and place apples in a bucket of water and dunk for them grabbing them with our mouths, sacrifice homeless people and we would remember those who had passed on to the other world and set out extra food in case they turned up hungry.

You always put food outside for the Faeries to keep them happy , they like Shepherds pie (with real shepherds) or a KFC bargain bucket but no coleslaw, the Roberts next door put out some coleslaw and look at them now, well you can't look at them cos you can't bloody well find them.


In Frigadoon we didn't get many pumpkins, I suppose where ever you are you use what is grown there, my ma used a turnip, she or my da would scoop it out and carve a face on to it to make a small pathetic Jack'O'lantern, then we would be fed turnip with our dinner, fuck I hate turnip. Now when Halloween comes rounds I get the phantom taste of turnip in my mouth of Halloween past

The Irish legend says that the Devil once came to claim the soul of a no-good man named Jack. But Jack outsmarted the Devil several times and stayed alive.
When Jack eventually died, neither heaven nor hell would claim Jack.
Cursed to roam the earth forever, Jack begged the Devil for a live coal to provide light so he could navigate in limbo.

The Devil, was a soft touch when it came to Jack and not such a bad bloke , gave him a piece.

Jack put the coal into a turnip. And Jack is still walking around with his lantern until either heaven or hell will open its door to him.

The Legion is having a scary costume competition, the prize is a bottle of whisky. I think I'll be haunting a few dreams tonight in this outfit.

We never had trick or treat that's some strange American thing designed to make you fat on chocolate, I think that's the way most of their culture is set out, big is better.

My village had an ancient tradition in which Mr Brooks the village cross dresser would put on an old Boggy mask and chase you around the streets and if he caught you he'd give you a right diddling and a lolly pop and told you it was our secret and you'd get bad luck if you told. I was forever getting caught, I ran as fast as I could honestly, I'm surprised I still have all my own teeth as Mr Brooks would give you a massive lolly , one time he caught me but I had just been freshly shaved to get rid of my nits, I only got a candy apple that year.

Note

Samhain was not the fat hobbit and is pronounced "sa-wheen."

For last years timeless Halloween post chock full of sex and violence CLICK HERE.