How wrong you are
My dad wasn't a graduate but (not that there's anything wrong with it) he wasn't a bin man. I took offence at your preconceptions and without going into specifics my job - in the service of people like you and people who deserve it more than you - there is a good chance that my work will kill me. So fuck you and your sanctimonius scumbag copper affiliates! Fuck you hard!
( , Wed 22 Sep 2010, 23:19, archived)
My dad wasn't a graduate but (not that there's anything wrong with it) he wasn't a bin man. I took offence at your preconceptions and without going into specifics my job - in the service of people like you and people who deserve it more than you - there is a good chance that my work will kill me. So fuck you and your sanctimonius scumbag copper affiliates! Fuck you hard!
( , Wed 22 Sep 2010, 23:19, archived)
I never knew filing, making the tea and cleaning up after everyone could be so dangerous.
( , Wed 22 Sep 2010, 23:20, archived)
( , Wed 22 Sep 2010, 23:20, archived)
If thats likely to give you cancer
Then thats clearly gonna be my next job cos there's much less health and safety issues and lots less paperwork
( , Wed 22 Sep 2010, 23:23, archived)
Then thats clearly gonna be my next job cos there's much less health and safety issues and lots less paperwork
( , Wed 22 Sep 2010, 23:23, archived)
People like me?
I live in Poland, for fuck's sake. There's not a single fucking thing about your life that could affect me in the slightest. Get off your high horse, stop getting upset about that time a rozzer caught you smoking grass with your council estate mates behind the bike sheds, and accept that your social position renders you utterly invisible and meaningless in the grand scheme of anything at all ever. Then you'll be calmer, and not worked up about bin man jibes, you Daddy's Little Boy. I bet his first name is your middle name.
( , Wed 22 Sep 2010, 23:22, archived)
I live in Poland, for fuck's sake. There's not a single fucking thing about your life that could affect me in the slightest. Get off your high horse, stop getting upset about that time a rozzer caught you smoking grass with your council estate mates behind the bike sheds, and accept that your social position renders you utterly invisible and meaningless in the grand scheme of anything at all ever. Then you'll be calmer, and not worked up about bin man jibes, you Daddy's Little Boy. I bet his first name is your middle name.
( , Wed 22 Sep 2010, 23:22, archived)