Some days ago, I saw a guy on the walkway. He was a big, burly guy, and all of his body cried “I am a man”.
He wore a whig, I don’t remember of which colour anymore, likely blond. His rock must have been made for him by a tailor, because it contained his rugby-esque proportions without effort. The two thick, footballer leg that emerged from below it were enveloped in sort of leggings of some absurd colour, a kind of purple.
The guy was carrying out one of the most despised activities in nowadays Britain: feeding the darn pigeons.
I walked the other side of the street, but couldn’t avoid noticing Man-Joke. Not only his entire appearance attracted the attention, but the ostentatious way he was offering food to the pigeons actually screamed virtue, in the deranged way onl6 a man who believes himself a woman can signal virtue.
Nobody cared for him. Nobody even noticed the monstrous caricature of manliness exhibited by Man-Joke. In today’s Britain, where being completely covered in tattoos does not cause one to even blink, the guy must barely have had his existence as a human being noticed.
I could not avoid noticing the total failure. Freak Guy was dressed in that way exactly in order to attract attention. He was signalling virtue (in the stupid way a mad man can) with the obvious purpose of putting himself on a stage. Still, his performance had no success at all, it was a total bomb at the street box office.
And then it hit me.
Britain is too accustomed to every perversion to even give perverts the pleasure of having their unique brand of depravity recognised. No. Here in Britain, you will simply be ignored, as everything else has been condemned by someone, sometime, and the self-centredness prevents for giving a straw for everything happening outside of one’s little bubble.
Italian Trannies, no doubt, choose “homophobia” as their suicide reason.
I think the British ones will have to work harder.