Funderland has set up again.
Great. At least now we’ll know where all the knackers are for the next two weeks. We can release the German Shepherds and switch off the security cameras.
I passed Funderland today and it’s like a cross between the Olympic Village and the Big Brother house. Wall-to-wall tracksuits and pyjamas.
As you know, I’m not the slightest bit racist, but I have to tell you, my prejudices came out today. It came as a shock to me to realise how much I hate coloured people. And by coloured people, I mean orange-coloured people with big earrings and loud voices. Children in buggies with fourteen chins, stuffing their fat, orange faces with ADHD-inducing instant snacks.
Have a heart-attack, you little bastard, I couldn’t help snarling. I regretted it later, though not much.
Knackers, waahs, skobies and gowlbags, all flying around centrifugally on a high-speed gyroscope that could easily project the whole fucking lot of them into space in a whirling trajectory of bling.
Bling and blood.
Wouldn’t that be awful?
With any luck at all, there will be a disastrous systems failure in Funderland, and all the rides will explode at the same time, wiping out an entire generation of orange knackers in one go. It’s a small price to pay for ridding the world of so many Waaaahs.
That’s not a very big wish. Is it too much to hope for?