A poem by Boris Johnson

Lads and lassies, allow me to introduce to you, a delightful poem by Britain’s new foreign secretary, on we, the Scots…or should that be Scotch.


First of all Boris, I’m six two, so hardly a dwarf, also, I whole heartedly agree with refortifying Hadrian’s wall, seriously, let’s get some fucking gun placements on the bastard, do this shit properly, border patrols, a shoot on sight policy that works both ways, the possibilities truely are endless!

Seriously though, this is when I wish I’d just get it over and done with and join twitter, if only to launch a tirade of abuse at this oaf, this horribly ugly, smug, bumbling bigot, who, despite calling for the genocide of the Scottish population, still retains a place in parliament simply because he is one of the privileged  English, who cling to a place in office that they have neither earned, nor done justice with, who forsake the poorest in our combined countries simply to line their own pockets, to further their own egos and ambitions and agendas, the type of person who is so consumed with their own greed, that they would literally run the country into the ground, and still expect a bonus for it.

Oh, but where was I…and I tell you what, Boris, you fucking fat lipped little English cunt, you have a cheek to talk, when you yourself could hardly be considered “English”, what with being an absolute mongrel. And if you are so concerned with us “polluting your stock”, and by that I assume you mean the English ethnicity, then let’s do a quick run off of your pedigree shall we?



Russian Jewish


And you have a cheek to call me and my race “offensivly foreign”

You want to get “offensive”, Boris, well, here goes. You’re a mud-blood, bleach blonde dog, and I really, desperately wish you had the Baw’s not to “flinch from a solution” in regards to my kind, cause I’ll tell you what Boris, there are people in this world that are capable of very bad things…and believe me when I say, that I’m not a good person, and I’ am capable of very bad things, so dear god! please, please, please attempt to exterminate my race, really, lets get this war started. And whilst my lot are reveling in the butchery of your ilk,  I would “hypothetically” happily ********* my way down to your doorstep, then “hypothetically” cut out, and “hypothetically” eat the ****** of **** ****** whilst you “hypothetically” lay ***** ** ***** ** them from severe head ******. And trust me buddy, I can swing my “very real” fist like a fucking sledgehammer.

(I await legal prosecution)

P.S: ^ Just hypothetical

P.P.S: Forgive my outburst, but as you can see, he started it…but on a serious note, this is the very embodiment of the attitude that is so prevalent toward my country by the southern elite, where this type of thing can be said without repercussions or reprimand, that he can, as a politician of this country, say something so extreme, and yet get away with it. Ask yourselves, if we Scots were of a different skin colour, or if this poem was directed at the Indians or Southeast Asians, then how much more sinister and shocking would the connotations of this poem of his truely be?