Oh dear oh dear oh dear. It’s a funny old world, innit?
The other day, two idiot Australian radio DJs made a prank phone call to the hospital where a royal wench is undergoing intensive treatment for feeling a bit queasy, and having a bit of a dribbly bottom. In so doing the idiot DJs committed the capital crime of doing an impression of the Queen so badly that even Jon Culshaw would have been embarrassed by it.
Nevertheless, a bamboozled foreign nurse gave out confidential information over the phone.
Global storm of outrage is whipped up by idiot media. Planes take to the skies above Bristol, trailing banners proclaiming, “THIS MUST NEVER BE ALLOWED TO HAPPEN AGAIN”.
Fuckwits on Twitter whip up a lynch mob to protect/avenge ‘our Kate’.
Bamboozled foreign nurse kills herself.
Fuckwit Twitter lynch mob bays for the heads of the idiot DJs, completely heedless of their own roles in the unfolding tragedy.
Twattish media saying Idiot DJ’s on are now on ‘suicide watch’. Twitter steps up its demands for their heads on a barbecue.
Can you guess what will happen next? I propose pre-empting that by starting a Twitter lynch mob to bay for the heads of the Twitter lynch mob that bayed for the head of the bamboozled nurse, then bayed for the heads of the idiot DJs when they got precisely what they wanted.
It’s hard to know where to start really. It’s like a meta-cluster-fuckwit-athon. You could light cities with it.
Eventually, all of time and space will collapse in on itself under the weight of all this unbridled stupidity.
Pull up a chair, grab a beer. And remember… This whole idiot DJ/suicide thing all rests on the profoundly shaky premise that a jumped up shop girl who married wisely is of any importance whatsoever.