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East Dulwich Gibbet


huncamunca

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Given recent events in the middle east,worldwide proletarian revolution seems immiment. But where should we place the gibbet to display the cadavaers of the various royal parasites?


Im thinking in the middle of the roundabout on Goose Green would be perfect.


any better suggestions?

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Royal parasites? Why surely we have concerns closer to home.

There's whoever's charging ?4.10 a pint for starters. Then the irritating smear campaign tosspots at Tory Party HQ, not to mention those anal probers in their saucers abducting our (and Surrey's)!! finest.

First up against the wall.......then put into a gibbet obviosuly.

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?4.10! Bastards.


It was last Thursday evening when I last ventured out of the font door to briefly wash off life?s coarse passing with a few pints of redemption.


I normally have pint of Badger when visiting this particular pub, the one next door to my house. It costs about ?2.80, the pint of Badger not my house, which I think is a bit steep but nevertheless acceptable.


I didn?t order Badger on this occasion though. Oh no I was suckered by the new, big, shiny pump attached to the bar proclaiming in red letters that it dispenses Peroni.


?May I please have a pint of Peroni?? I asked.


??Course you can.? Said the barmaid. The pretty one with long black hair, not the pugnacious one who throws her cigarette butts out the 1st story window onto my car.


She made with the pint pulling and I did some of that patient waiting at the bar which is the traditional thing to do in that particular situation.


?That?ll be ?4.75 please.? She said.


?Fuck me!? I said.


?I?ll remind you that I know your wife!? She said.


?mnn mm sorry ?? I mumbled and handed over a fiver, you know proper paper money and everything, to have but a couple of tiny silver coins returned to my down-at-heels palm.


I took my purchase to my usual table in the corner, guarding it closely for fear that its resale value may attract the local form. I didn?t enjoy it much.


I left the pub by the back door, impoverished and confused by this cruel new world I had found myself in where pints of beer cost a fiver and people just carry on as if everything was normal. I wandered in despair for at least a couple of minutes until I got to the other pub.


The other pub has big television screens which show various things mostly involving balls or horses. It has a cocksure barmaid from Australia with big breast and a chubby barman from Essex with bigger breasts. It has specials on Thursday nights and you can get a pint of Stella for ?2.50 or a pint of Carlsberg for ?2. You can also get beaten up for free most nights of the week.


The barman supplied me with libation and an initially confusing conversation in which he kept on referring to someone called ?Our Kate?. I found this odd as I don?t remember ever acquiring something called a Kate. I gradually got the gist of what he was ?on about?. Or at least I think I did. I?m not entirely sure where I?m going with this but I don?t think that barman would be too keen about the idea of a gibbet.


Ooh look a squirrel.

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Fuck off! It's difficult enough to reverse a family laden mondeo out of there after 5 pints as it is without a bloody great stand with the severed heads of the aristocracy, publicans, tories and aliens hanging from it in the way.
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