
Erin Go Feudal!
The Future is So Dark, I Cannot Find My Shades
As you can see from the above photo which I was take the day before yesterday, everyone here is bloody freezing and having to huddle together on the beach at Playa Blanca in the hope that our body heat will generate enough warmth to see us through another miserable Canary winter. You may not have notice the weather report among all else that is going to go on these days (such as the Winkileaks fiasco and the Danny Bonaduce surprise wedding/massacre) but last week the temperature in Lanzarote dip to 21 degrees Celsius. Is a big disgrace! And we are all know who to blame for this, don’t we?: Yes. Is the filthy Jews and their Masonic allies who control the weather in order to manipulate the markets. You know, my good neighbours the Mengeles have had to dig out their old black leather overcoats and peaked caps, which they have not worn since the war! And even then, they dare not venture outside; not even in the daytime.
But Manuel, I am hear you say, how come all those people on the beach in Playa Blanca are naked? I know you have a lot of Germans there in the Canarias, and we all know how much they like to be the first on the beach, but we are also know how much Germans love their lebensraum. The only thing worse than being squashed up against a fat sweaty German belly is being another fat sweaty German. So who are all the other naked peoples? They are not English because there are no tattoos. What give?
Well the answer is simple. They are all normal native Canarians. More specifically, they are the indigenous populations of Lanzarote. And as you can see in this picture, they are all facing towards Fuerteventura, which is full of soft southern shites and where the temperature is currently 24 degrees Celsius. In a proud display of Northern machismo, the Lanzaroteans are stripping to their bare breasts and showing that no matter how cold it is get in Lanzarote, we are all hard. Also we are drinking proper beer, Dorada Especial. None of that fizzy Clara piss. And we are smeurk the tabs.
Of course, even in our shivering we are mindful of occurrences that take place elsewhere in more fortunate lands. In lovely pissing Ireland, for esample, today is when is announced the decision that the country have decided to revert to feudalism, having finally realize that the benefits of capitalism are illusory or else end up in the pockets of bankers and their lick-spittle lackeys in government. I have been saying this for years, as you are all know, like a voice in the wildebeest, and nobody was pay any attention whatsoever. I was always console myself with the thought that one day they would all learn and it would serve them right and if there was any justice in the world they would come on hans and knees crawling to me and beg for forgiveness and ask for me to take over ruling the country like a benevolent despot (in the same way that El Generalísimo was rule over Spain for so many wonderful year).
It is look to me like this is not going to happen anytime soon, but I am neverthenonetheless so please that lovey pissing Ireland, a place so close to my heart, is at last see the error of its ways and is return to the proper, god-given traditions of austerity, obedience, poverty, piety and emigration. Is devoutly to be hoped that also they include chastity in their regained virtues, but I am not hold out much hope. Before I move to Ireland, I had ask friends how much action I was likely to get from the Irish ladies, and they was tell me in no uncertain terms, “Fuck all, Manuel.” But they were big liars. In all my time there, I got fuck nothing. Which is not to say that Irish ladies these days are not degenerate filthbags. Only that they combine this with a sense of respect for hairy devout Spanish gentlemen of diminutive stature and Falangist self-discipline. I could sense it when I was talk to them through the letter box.
I shall be spend the afternoon today truly well wrap up in my private chapel in my basement making prayers that the good people of Ireland get the budget they need to take them back into the Dark Ages. Some of them will moan, of course, but that is part of the Irish charm. Is the sort of delightful suffering which is what make them the land of such good writers, such as the Irvine Welch (who is not Welch at all!), Priscilla Ahern, ABC Pierre, Len Deighton, and John Simpson. Remember that all the rubbish ones, like the James Joyce, Iain Banks, and Lemuel Beckett, was jump ship when the going get rough, proving that they are decadent moddle-coddled Modernist communists who cannot even string two words together without the middle one being “cock.”
I am digress. Won’t you join me in prayer this afternoon for Ireland? We are all in this together, after all. And it give me no comfort to say this from my verandah 1,000 miles away.
Besos
Manuel


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