These days, you can’t walk down the street without some foreign fucker looking for money.
I was in Cruise’s Street during the week and this guy with a deeply impressive moustache was directing maybe five or six women and some children where to sit. Different positions up and down the street. They had paper cups to hold out.
You could see that the guy was a serious businessman by the meticulous way he arranged his collectors, and I had to admire that in him, though it was the only thing admirable about the prick. I’m not sure yet what the difference is between this guy and a pimp, as I don’t know what his relationship is with the women, though the body language suggested a relationship of fear.
Now, what about our own beggars? What about the irritating fuckers you used to say fuck off to? Are they out of a job?
Give us a few bob and I’ll say a prayer for ya, Sir.
Is that finished? What a pity.
That’s the European Union for you.
New beggars that you don’t know. Give our beggars back their jobs, that’s what I say.