At the End of the Day


Saturday night satire red in tooth and claw is on offer here, with special attention being paid to Prince Harry, peaceful Jihadists, Vegan Antizionists, market research, and dating sites.

Last night having been a Friday, Harry Windsor was seen having a drink with some chums in a Fulham pub. He was observed consuming an alcoholic drink as if he might be just any other ordinary young chap, laughing occasionally, buying a round and going to the gents a couple of times.

Later his group retired for some dinner in the gastro pub. Harry cut food up with his knife and fork, put most of it in his mouth, chewed and then swallowed it. Other diners gaped, amazed that a divine presence ate food just like what they did, without the need for any official tasters whatsoever.

In fact, the Daily Express reported that “Harry has been seen on several occasions in the past drinking in pubs”, happily oblivious to his chances of catching Hepatitis B from a dirty glass.

American tourist Nathan X. Lowell told The Sun, “The third time he went to the john, I followed the guy, and you know what? He pissed in a urinal without assistance, the urine exited normally from his penis, and then – having suitably adjusted his dress – the Prince washed his hands and returned to the table without incident. It was just awesome”.

So refreshingly informal is Harry’s behaviour in all things, he has inspired me to consider mingling with mere mortals myself. Unfortunately, the retinue here at Slogger’s Roost is – as yet – far too conservative to consider such a thing. Despite this, I am resolved to outwit them before too long, and down a few pints at Le Bar du Gigi in full view of the Frenchies.

What fun we shall have.

Last night, I gave a supper party for close friends and introduced them to a new culinary trend that has taken Muslim café society by storm; I refer of course to Islamic Vinegar.

Quintessentially bitter, it works especially well on classic Jihadist dishes such as Homosexuel jeté du toiture sur son lit de points, and the lesser-known anglicised dish, Bébée blanche farcie de dix-huit Pakistanis. 

One of the great boons of Islamic cooking is that their butchers are scrupulous about removing the head of anything served up for dinner, such that you and I need not be offended by the sight of a brain mercilessly killed without being in any way namby-pamby stunned prior to slaughter.

Everyone knows – indeed, it is an established fact among admirers of the religion of peace – that food tastes better when total prey awareness is combined with baffled shock. I myself always insist when eating Okapi that it has been rendered extinct thanks to the humane attentions of a psychopathic lion.Without tasting such meat, you are unfit to comment on the matter.

Meanwhile, upcoming here in my little enclave of South West France is a rally entitled Eurorock against Zionist culinary Islamophobia. I shall of course be an assiduous attendee, along with many thousands of other profoundly concerned French eco-farmers, who two years ago suggested that the best way to support their efforts would be to eat people:


In a major news coup, the market research industry has established at last that human society has its fair share of selfish bastards.

Yes, In an gripping social media gallery compiled by the website Whisper, people from across the globe have shared the reasons they’re more than glad to be without a partner. They’ve been able to do so because Whisper is a large online community where people anonymously share real thoughts and feelings.

Whisper goes on to explain that ‘Being single may seem like the worst thing ever for some people, but it sure doesn’t have to be’. By thy syntax shall ye be known: the site is of course American.

“I always get laid more when I’m single,” avers one respondent, “I feel, like, once I get into a relationship, all romance goes away”.

No shit?

You know, it’s a funny thing, but once I find myself with a woman who cares, has a brain, offers an independent opinion and isn’t obsessed by the latest must-visit eaterie, I find it remarkably easy to resist the siren calls of big-titted bimbos whose legs extend to their armpits…..not least because they are such a rarity in my life.

But not all people are like me, it seems: “I can roll around in a huge bed, I don’t have to consider anyone else’s feelings, I can just think about myself, and when I’m single and cheating on everyone, I just know nobody’s cheating on me” says Norman Narcissus from small town Beatoff in Onan County, New Mexico. (The identity is false, but the quote is reassuringly real.)

Funamendalleee, this helps explain the serial disappointment involved in using dating sites that promise Happy Ever After, when what they really appeal to is Please Fuck me and then Piss off.

This is the sort of observation that led a recent female Slog threader to describe me as “an arrogant little shit”. Well, one girl’s admonition is another man’s ammunition.