2014 Budget Reveals What The Tories Think Of Britain

The 2014 budget and subsequent #ToryBingo furore has led many to ask? What things do hardworking people really enjoy? To answer this question GFB has undertaken an exclusive poll of hardworking people and the results show that it’s not just bingo and beer hardworking people enjoy.

Top 10 things that hardworking people enjoy;

1 – Being slapped on the buttocks with a rolled up copy of The Sun.

2 – Eating chips

3 – Biting cats

4 – Opening letters addressed to their neighbours

5 – Smoking crack

6 – Masturbating whilst watching Benefits Street

7 – Holidaying in Lanzarote

8 – Auditioning for X Factor

9 – Watching granny porn (fave film ‘Gum Jobs’)

10 – Twitter and Facebook trolling

Daniel Wankstain coalition insider commented, “The Government will be thrilled with the results of GFB’s poll. We know we’re in tune with the hardworking and indeed for that matter the handwanking people of Britain. Who doesn’t like a game of bingo and a warm can of Fosters on a Friday night? But as a Government we know we can do more and are actively working on free porn credits for older people, cat biting lessons for unemployed young people and Crack on prescription for single parents and the disabled. Now, got to dash, it’s Happy Hour in the Commons Bar, tally ho!’

Deficit? What Deficit?

Just remember we are all in this together!

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Located, Located, Located Pt 2 – Back At The Palace – By Mike Crawshaw

Yesterday Kristy Arseslap told you of the plight of Bingo and India and their attempts to land a pile in London. (You can read their heart rending tale here).

We were swamped by requests to find out how their home search was going. So, Mike Crawshaw caught up with them.

” Last year we tried to help Bingo and India, a couple of upper class tossers from Surrey, find a property in Central London. They had more money than sense to spend on their ideal property but unfortunately this would not stretch to the property at the end of The Mall that India fell in love with. When we left them, India was convinced that she could oust the existing tenants with an offer they could not refuse. We’ll let India take up the story….

‘I walked round the outside to see if there was stables and a paddock but I couldn’t see anything except an old man with great big ears. He appeared to be watering the plants.

He looked up and our eyes met. There was something about him that was rather attractive.

I felt we had met before. He wandered over.

‘Hello, may I help you?’

‘Yes, I was rather admiring your house’

‘My wife tells me It has been in the family rather a long time, what is your name my dear’

‘ India’

“What a coincidence! my great-great grandmother was Empress.”

‘I’d do anything to live in this house’

‘Anything?’

‘Oh yes’

‘What I have in mind may give you a bladder infection.’

‘That’s alright, I don’t know anything about flowers. Have you got a pony?”

An improved offer was turned down when his wife caught him with no trousers.

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Ginger Heartache – With Aunty Bill

Dear Aunty,

My wife is having an affair. I know this because she has started washing and putting her teeth in before going to Bingo. I think her lover is the bloke down the road who has his own front door and has on occasion shut it, just to show off.

I was thinking of getting a table to show my wife how much I love her. Can you send me £20 to help cover the cost of the drop leaf?

Do you think this will win her back?

Cokehead Kev, Barnstaple

Aunty Bill Replies;

Dear Kev

As Bernie Winters once said “In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is King.” I’ve got no idea what he was on about, but I have half an idea it may apply to you.

I don’t see a drop leaf table competing with a man who has his own front door and can open and shut it at will. By himself.

This is serious one-upmanship.

I would instal a water feature in your front garden; nothing grand and it needn’t be expensive – certainly no more than you would have spent on a drop leaf. A plastic neo-Roman urn type of thing can be bought quite cheaply from any reputable plastic water feature retailer.

Usually this comes with a length of hose that you can run from the urn to a tap. Fill said urn with water.

Then ask your wife to grip the end of the hose in her mouth, preferably with her teeth in and on your command of “suck and now blow” you will be amazed as a jet of water, reminiscent of the Trevi fountain, spouts forth from the urn.

Put on a tape of Puccini’s Turandot (you know,the Pirelli tyre song) and you could almost be in Rome.

No opera? No problem! Bernie Winters, “Here’s Bernie!” has a similar effect.

Your wife’s suitor will never open and shut his door again – guaranteed.

Aunty Bill

Aunty Bill’s advice on pressing matters of the heart can be read here and here!

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When Bob’s On The Pot He Likes To Read A Lot (It’s A Man Thing!)

Bob Lewington here;

I was round Mum’s yesterday afternoon to put some new batteries in her TV remote control. I’m a dab hand at DIY you see.

After trying for twenty minutes to get the cover off,  I told Mum that this was a bigger job than appeared. I needed to ponder my strategy whilst completing a movement.

On the pot I read my horoscope in the paper. With Venus in the ascendant and Neptune on a bender (or some such, I’ve never really understood Gastrology to be honest)  I should; “Be careful today of undertaking complex tasks  involving machinery and instead prepare for a romantic encounter.”

That knocked the battery change on the head.

After I’d eaten the bacon rolls Mum had made, I nipped home to watch the film my mate Pete the Slip had given me down The Reclusive Monkey on Saturday.

Shirley had gone to the Bingo so I had a couple of hours to kill before she got home to cook my tea.

Lovemeat Sandwich had some very good camera work. And the script was very challenging.

Shirley caught me in a compromising position on the leather cornerpiece. She didn’t believe me when I told her that I was just airing my rash.

I had to cook my own fish fingers for tea.

Horoscopes. Spooky. End of.

Be Lucky

Bob

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Ginger Heartache With Aunty Bill

You’ve got to sand it to him

Aunty Bill

Several days ago I met a lovely man at the Bingo. He sat with me as I played and was thrilled when I shouted “House” in my first game!

I won two hundred pounds as well!

He told me he loved me and asked me if I could lend him the £200 so he could buy some sand. I loved him and did so. He promised me that he would pay me back the next day and also give me some sand as a keep sake.

I haven’t heard from him. Do you think I have lost him? Do you want some sand?

Wilma, Portland

AB replies;

Dear Wilma,

It looks like you’ve been a victim of  the notorious”Bingo Bob”.

Bob preys on women like yourself who frequent Bingo Halls to fuel his lust for sand.

Sharp, Coarse or Fine, it’s all the same to him. He has an insatiable lust for the stuff.

When he’s got enough sand together (a hippo sized bag should suffice for his twisted needs) he creeps, yes creeps, under the cover of darkness to the beach and spends the rest of the night building phallic symbols (rather poor efforts I must admit, he sent me some pictures).

Then he buries himself adjacent to his efforts to wait for sunrise and the looks of horror and disgust on the faces of those early morning beach goers as they feast their eyes on his depraved sculptures.

You’ve had a close call Wilma. Try to forget all about it and hand your evidence to the Police.

Regards

Aunty Bill

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