From ‘Spoilt Brats’ to ‘Boys ‘n’ the hood’…

During my university time I will never forget the condescending hypocrisy of my three ‘well-to-do’ public schoolboy chums who decided to ‘get-down-with-the-kids’ and adopt ‘gangsta rapper’ personas.

Jesus.fucking.wept.

These three twat-blisters, each to the Manor born with a silver spoon, decided to slum-down in an exercise to ‘fit in’ with their lower class chavvy student mates and they did it in as patronisingly inaccurate a way as is humanly possible.

First up was Reece Everitt, snooty little plum job with a 'la-de-da' attitude and a father who owned half of Guernsey. He started wearing Ali-G tracksuits and ‘bling’...

Next was Quentin Bullock-Smythe, captain of the rugby team. A huge, strapping inbred mutant previously known as ‘The Bull’. He subsequently insisted that his father traded in his sporty Alpha Romeo for a gargantuan Hummer with chrome ‘up the ass’ and blacked-out windows.

Last, and by all means least, was Peter Octon, 234th in line to the throne. He started wearing a baseball cap back to front, tucking his hands into his armpits and adopting a London ‘yoof’ accent.

Of course, they all changed their names.

Reece decided to adopt the time old tradition of Chavs and spice girls alike, and decided to ‘trendy up’ his name by being known by ‘first name, then the first initial of surname’…thusly he became ‘Reece E’.

Quentin liked being known as the Bull, but decided it wasn’t ‘street’ enough, so preceded his nickname with the word ‘Dub’, as in N’dubz, and other well known purveyors of rapping arts.

Peter Octon liked what Quentin did, and wanted to change his name to ‘Cool-Oc’, but then decided that ‘cool’ wasn’t ‘cool’, and so changed it to ‘Hip’

As if this wasn’t bad enough, they then decided to form a post-ironic rap group, poking a well-manicured finger at society and its perceptions. Of course, they got the wrong end of the stick and totally arsed this up. On stage they wore tattered suits in an attempt to resemble Stan Laurel (of Laurel and Hardy fame) of all people, and combined hard-core sexploitation lyrics with bungling old-time physical comedy. They sucked.

They were so bad in fact that for months, all I seemed to hear around the campus was people complaining about ‘Hip-Oc’, Reece ‘E’ and ‘Dub-Bull’ Stan duds.

Please forward all letters of complaint to the usual address.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Mon 23 Feb 2009, 9:28, 7 replies)

*SPANGS*
Jesus, Pooflake...
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Mon 23 Feb 2009, 10:05, closed)

Didn't see that one coming
You got me - well done.
(EuroSong I love horse meat: best of all the animals, Mon 23 Feb 2009, 10:10, closed)

Here's a frying pan
Please accelerate your face into it.
( flake has nothing against your right leg, Mon 23 Feb 2009, 10:55, closed)

And there I was...
...trying to engineer something from "hip okra sea". Not bothering now.
(Vice Admiral Sir Charles Cockbrush KCB MBE DSO, who is finding it increasingly difficult to log into b3ta.com wants to duck your aunt and kick your puppy, Mon 23 Feb 2009, 12:53, closed)

Words fail me!
Luckily they don't fail you - great punnage!

*click*
(Captain Placid 24/7 ball gags, brownie mix and clown porn, Mon 23 Feb 2009, 13:12, closed)

You utter twat...
but clicks anyway
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Mon 23 Feb 2009, 16:36, closed)

I read it and didn't get it...
Then after reading the next post it sunk in and I groaned.... Awful but well done!
(Something funny, Mon 23 Feb 2009, 22:28, closed)