If I worked for the Express, I'd have been tempted to cross the picket line today. Not because I don't agree with the industrial action, of course - it's every worker's right to down tools against employers who are thick, nasty, unpleasant and making obscene profits while constantly cutting back on staff - but I wouldn't want to identify myself as an Express journalist.
Express journalists have chosen to work for the world's worst newspaper, get paid by the world's worst newspaper and have to sit back and watch as the world's worst newspaper churns out a purulent turd of a product day after day, rife with hatred against minorities, lies about immigrants and journalism of the weakest quality and pisspoorest standards. I wouldn't want to stand out on a picket line and out myself as being one of them. I'd rather ring in sick. Actually I'd rather stick my nuts in the blender and let it rip, just so there wouldn't ever be a chance that I could ever produce a child who might have such cowardice, such sheepishness, such idiocy, to take money from Richard Desmond.
Anyway, what's been cooking on strike day? Well luckily enough it looks like the bloggers - some of whom might actually be paid for the yellowy cumstains of evil they squirt out every day, paid with real money - have been hard at it, not having to cross any picket line other than a virtual one, I should imagine. Here's one of them and his latest diarrhoea of twattery. Sit back, fasten the safety belt and prepare to meet the least capable man in the history of journalism. Take a bow, you useless fucktard, Jack Teague, aka the Angry Young Man, aka a no-talent tosswipe who would do the world a favour by abandoning all pretence of being a journalist and applying for the most menial task possible at the local Jobcentre Plus - or better still just taking the gentleman's option and chucking himself in front of a tram.
Think I'm being too harsh? I beg to differ; this is me trying to be as restrained as possible.
IT'S NOT RACIST TO EXPECT GOOD MANNERS
But it is racist to be racist. Worth remembering, Jack. Oh I forgot, you work for the Express. Trying to avoid racism at the Express must be like trying to avoid chocolate at the Cadbury's factory.
Do you know what really gets on my nerves?
People who can't write very well?
Foreigners who work in shops and don't understand English, but look at YOU as though YOU'RE stupid because THEY can't understand what YOU'RE saying.
Yeah and what about deaf people? The CUNTS. Expecting you to SPEAK CLEARLY and that.
Last week I went into Subway and asked for my usual - an Italian BMT.
Top blogging there, he's got hyperlinks to Subway and its menu! Woohoo, this is Web 2.0 at its very finest! What a magical journey through the internet his readers are going to be taking!
The girl behind the counter nodded as though she'd heard me clearly and then started making my sandwich.
When I looked again I realised that she was filling up a baguette with steak and cheese - not what I'd asked for at all.
She misheard you? The BITCH! And she was FOREIGN as well!
At this point it's even more abundantly clear that annoying people like me is probably what gets this keyboard-botherer's splinter of a dick into a semi - just like the trolls on messageboards who don't think things through other than trying to work out how to offend people as much as possible, his one and only goal is to try and stir up some kind of irked reaction in someone who's slightly to the political left of Ronald Reagan. Hooked in another one! I can see the little turd beaming with joy. Mission accomplished! I've annoyed someone! I've done my job! No, you haven't done your job at all. You don't have a job. You don't say anything of any value to anyone in the world ever. The racist cunts who read the Express are bound to agree with you; so what? Oh, you said something that made a racist happy - well you can wank yourself in a frenzy over that one tonight, safe in the knowledge that you will never, ever, ever, ever, ever accomplish any single tiny meaningful thing in your entire career, for that would require some semblance of talent, skill or dedication.
I politely asked her whether it was my sandwich being made and she confirmed it was, so I politely told her that it wasn't what I'd ordered.
She snapped back: "I asked if you wanted steak and you said yes. So I made steak."
I replied with: "Umm.. well then I didn¹t hear you properly because if I had have done I wouldn't have asked for steak."
Correct me if I'm wrong but surely as I¹m the one who speaks English as my first language, isn't it more likely that she misheard me?
Yes, she misheard you. So what? People make mistakes. Like your parents on that evening they decided to give the Antiques Roadshow a miss and turn in early, which resulted in the world's shittest writer telling the world how he hates foreigners serving him sandwiches.
It took me back to a couple of years ago when I was with my sister and she went into a bakery.
I was looking in the shop next door so I followed her in a few minutes later.
She had just asked the eastern European girl behind the counter for an egg custard tart and was met with a look of disbelief.
"What's an egg custard!?" the girl behind the counter smirked. "I've never heard of this."
Two foreigners in two years have misheard members of this man's family in shops. My god, it's almost a concerted campaign!
At this point I wonder: is this a wind-up? This can't be real - can it? If it were even the Mail, perhaps, I'd consider it. But the Express has all the sophistication and guile of a cluster bomb in a library. No chance. This isn't irony. This isn't a clever lure to try and trap unsuspecting folk like me. This is just utter crap. Indeed, Teague appears to have been gainfully employed on three previous occasions, when even articles as dismally insufferable as "Do you know what really winds me up? Gastropubs!" and "Idiots on mobiles really wind me up" were published on the Express website. It's like reading the rejected material of a ninth-rate stand-up comedian. It's embarrassingly bad, so unbearable that I wanted to die two paragraphs in. But it passes for journalism at the Express.
Anyway, Jack carries on with his wry observations about modern life:
After rolling her eyes at my sister she turned around and looked at me with the expression that says "what is that idiot talking about?"
I replied: "It's an egg custard. Quite a common cake to find in England and if you're working in a bakery you should probably get used to them."
I don't want to be naughty, but people who work in bakeries are, in my experience, and regardless of which country they come from, not always blessed with the most magical people skills - or indeed product identification abilities - in the world. But not if you're Teague, someone who doesn't know a traditional British (Portuguese) egg custard is worthy of ridicule, because they're foreign and that.
Why does she think that she can work in a British bakery and laugh at people who come in asking for things that have been around for years?
If I'd been behind that counter I'd probably have smirked as well, judging by the photo byline of Teague. But that's beside the point. Maybe that person was embarrassed? Maybe they were trying to be helpful? Not according to the angry young no-talent titwank; they were being dismissive and nasty - how dare they come over here and take our jobs but not be able to understand us! It would be tempting to guess that Teague may have been exposed to a viciously punitive regime at home in his formative years, to the extent where he takes any human interaction as threatening, but who knows really? It's his byline on the blog; he clearly wants to be known as the author.
If I went to work in a bakery in Poland and someone came in asking for makoweic (polish poppy cake), would I turn my nose up at them and have a laugh about it with the next customer who came in?
No I wouldn't because that would be ignorant, naive and disrespectful to their culture.
And that's the same anywhere in the world.
As if you could get a job in a bakery anywhere, let alone Poland. It's writing that shitty blog for the Express or cleaning toilets for a living.
The first commenter (whose avatar, in a delicious piece of irony, is that world-famous immigrant, Paddington Bear) says:
I work in a supermarket, if you don't understand some froreigners, somehow it seems to be your fault. Some just mumble and don't even try to speak clearly, and again it seems to be my fault that I don't understand them. Very rarely do I hear the word "thank you" just snatch and go.
I'm sure these 'froreigners' are grateful for your help anyway.
One brave soul attempts some dissent:
What do many of Brits ( white) know of say African and Arab culture bar the absurd and wildly inaccurate spin they get.
As fpr being polite in Poland..give me a break..the Brits ( and I am one ) go everywhere in the world expecting everyone to just speak English ( we had a empire once don't you all know ? ) They show no respect at all when abroad to locals.
The article smacks of patronizing condescending xenophobia to me. I too have problems understanding some foreign accents but I do not rant about it like this articles has just done and hidden behind some flaccid comment that is not "not racist"..really ????
And is quickly squashed:
This is England I only need to speak one language it is not up to me to learn everybody else's, When I move to France I will learn French.
you miss the point Macgregor! this is ENGLAND and we speak ENGLISH!
That's about the level of Teague, but he doesn't really set the bar tremendously high. I can only hope that he got his job through some form of nepotism or blackmail; if anyone at the Express actually thought he was any good at anything other than being a tedious cuntstain then they're sadly mistaken. Even more reason to shy away from the picket lines...
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