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Posh people.  The scourge of our society.  You know why, as a nation, we didn’t really take to ‘Tiger’ Tim Henman?  It’s because he’s POSH (and a loser, but mainly because he’s posh).  It’s the same with the Royal Family.  A lot of haters out there, and all because of their upbringing.

But the worst type of posh are those idiots who go to the Henley Regatta.  I recently got stuck on a train with these wankers.  All blue blazers and pin striped ties, with cream slacks to compliment, the men are all public schoolboy shit-bags who are probably earning a pretty penny in the city because mummy and daddy knew an exec who could get them in to the ‘corporation’.  The women are all summery dresses and c*nt hats, and they’re more than happy to play the ditzy pretty girlfriend role to some critical acclaim. 

Oh Felicity Daaaarling! You're A TWAT.

They all talk really loudly, their laughs shatter eardrums, and they all look and sound like horses.  The men have names like Toby and Julian; the women are likely to be called Felicity or Susannah.  These people are the worst type of people.  If I’d had a gun on that train I’d have gone all Michael Douglas on their arses and blown them all to smithereens.  But I didn’t.  And they continue to walk among us.  The bastards. I hope you all drown on some sailing boat and the pollution of the Thames decomposes your torsos before your wanky family can even hold a wake.  That is all.


About Twenty8Later

A brand new podcast mocking news, sport & entertainment in handy 28-day chunks. Good times in a terrible, terrible world.

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