A recent trip to the continent has convinced me more than ever of the need for us to be free from the Fascist Imperial Menace of the European Union. Whilst this proud breed of Englishmen have had over five thousand years to mature slowly into our noble island race the same cannot be said for our so called ‘cousinson’ the landmass who sink further every year into Riviera of excremental depravity.
My trip began in Amsterdam where I had hoped to spend a relaxing weekend amongst the windmills and the clog shops. Within an hour of arriving however, I was being invited to partake of a quite extraordinary aromatic spice of tobacco which left me quite giddy and off balance.
Having recovered my senses I went in search of some tulips before inadvertently wandering into an area of the most appalling morals. Despite scouring just about every one of the window displays and diverging myself of a huge wad of money to several young ladies who assured me they knew exactly what they were doing I was unable to discover a single bloom of satisfactory variety.
After a brief stay of just three and a half months I took the automobile across to Germany where, following a brief tussle with some appalling custom guards over alleged possession of a class C substance concerning the trifling half a kilo of aromatic tobacco that had inadvertently fallen into my suitcase, I eventually arrived in Munich where I was befriended by a charming Teutonic gentleman named Gunter and his two adopted nieces, who invited me to lodge with them at their apartment in the Latin quarter.
Here they offered to perform a traditional folk routine for my viewing pleasure a self-penned piece of Wagnerian undertones entitled Essen Meine Scheisse bis Ich heisse kumen in meine Leiderhosen. The resulting display literally had me on my knees on the floor in a positive jizz of furiously outraged excitement. I could not drag myself away soon enough and after a torrid seven month stay which thankfully ended after I was deported following a mix-up with an alpine mountain goat, a milk maid and a leather SS uniform on a ski lift it was back to Albion, and long may it be until I leave these sacred shores (and not just because I had my passport confiscated). No to Brussels! No to the EU! Britain alone!