Anyway I meant to share this story with you all a few days ago but the nub of it is that I was rather traumatised by the whole episode and this act of writing it down has helped me to cope with the fall out.
This is what happened.
I decided to make a visit to the local supermarket. Braving a rag tag army of Muslim rape gangs and leftist climate changers I parked up as near to the entrance as I could.
I got out of my car and was immediately propositioned by a swarthy, cut throat looking sort of fellow.
“Clean your car mister?” He smirked.
I tensed up a little but responded In true Brexit fashion.
“ My car is clean enough so you can fuck off back to Albania you fucking child raping muzzie c.unt”
He looked at me for a second and then taunted me with the following:
“OK, no problem, you have a good day now.”
Onwards to the shop and I spot two degenerates wearing red trousers. They are making their way into the store and I close up behind them in order to get a decent picture.
The picture below is the only one I could get before I was confronted by the so called Store Security Team.
The Security Team in this instance is a buxom African woman in her late 20s. Five foot 6 inches and around 200 pounds of solid bone and muscle.Well proportioned all over and certainly built for comfort and not speed.
Such is life in modern Britainistan.
“Now then Mr Tainant sir, we have told you before that photographing customers is not allowed.”
I stared at her for a few seconds, my eyes taking in her voluptuous curves and full luscious lips.
“I thought that my ban was spent and that it would be ok if they werent muzzie trash”
She chuckled and shook her head slowly, her luxuriant black tresses shimmering in the artificial light.
“Tommy, you know that isnt right. You need to get another hobby and stop this nonsense. You are a grown man now.”
I thought about what she had just said and responded in the true spirit of Albion.
“Do you need to search me to see if I have anything on me ? Maybe up against that wall ? I could put my hands up and spread my legs. You could do a thorough check on me. Everywhere.”
Again she chuckled and shook her head as she started deleting the pictures on my phone. This crazed and wanton Negress. A Queen of the Jungle indeed. Here she was the mistress of my freedom, her long and powerful fingers jabbing away at my phone screen.
I closed my eyes and thought pervasive private thoughts until a hysterical shriek brought me round.
“You dirty old bastard !! There are pictures of me on here. I aint having that you old perve. I am calling the Law now.”
Oh dear. I had forgotten about those pictures. Perhaps I should have deleted them once I had transferred them to my tablet, laptop and blogs.
So there I was sat in the Security Lodge and waiting for the Police to arrive. It was very warm in there and I noticed a slight glow on her cheeks as she typed out her complaint report.
“Where do your people come from” I asked ?
“From Wolverhampton you old fool, are you gonna stalk them as well ?”
So much for trying to build bridges with these people.
I cant say any more about the state of modern Britain on the advice of my brief. My case is likely to be heard in the next few weeks.
However the smart ones amongst you will understand my inner torment.