The British Are Skinny Little Pussies

Earlier today, Anavrina tweeted out a link (that sounds really fucking dirty, doesn’t it?) to this news story about a family of fat people who want a second helping of government handouts because they’re “too fat to work” (pictured to the right).  You can click the link to that story if you want but, honestly, after reading it, you won’t know anything significantly more important than what I’ve already told you.

Too fat to work.  Awesome.  And the first thing I thought, after reading this article, was that it wouldn’t even qualify as a news item here in the states, unless it was a slow news day and one of the 24-hour news networks ran it as a “get a load of these lazy fuckbags” type of story to kill the last two minutes of one of their shitty half hour news blocks.

By way of no small coincidence, I spent about an hour of my morning cruising the aisles of both Sam’s Club and Costco.  If I had seen only four people as large as the people pictured above I’d have been suspicious.  As it was, I was in the middle of a vast ocean of Muffin Tops.  If it weren’t for the morbidly obese, Sam’s Club and Costco would both be missing half their customers and most of their employees.

Jesus Christ, I used to work with a woman who, when she sat down, resembled soft-serve ice cream that’d been sitting out in the sun just a few seconds too long (sort of a fat pyramid with an ever-expanding bottom).  She managed to get her lumpy ass to work every day.  Fuck, I manage to get my fat ass to work every day, what’s wrong with these pussy brits?

That family needs to come over here where they’ll fit in…and lose all their government aid.


Tim Hatch lives in a secret volcano headquarters somewhere in the South Pacific, where he controls the world economy and writes confessional poetry about his disappointing childhood.

His poetry has been published in MungBeing, East Jasmine Review, The Pacific Review, The Vehicle, Touch: The Journal Of Healing, Apeiron Review, and he is the recipient of the 2014 Felix Valdez Award.

He finds writing about himself in the third person to be an overtly seductive invitation to tell lies.

He once captured a French Eagle at Talavera.

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