Thank God the UK doesn't have a writtem Constitution....

[p_p_man]

You see Yanks we can actually tell our Government, in no uncertain words, what we want it to do or what we don't want it to do.

You lot in the "Land of the so-called Free" can't do that without being declared unpatriotic, unAmerican or any other piece of rubbish your Government decides to label you...

So as normal men and women you don't want to make waves because then the American Constitution will be quoted at you and within a few short moments you'll be portrayed on TV as somebody no-one else wants to live next door to...

Luckily in the UK we don't have that problem. If anyone thinks we're talking bullshit in their eyes they have to take us to court and prove otherwise...

Which brings me neatly down to Blair. He is very, very close to being called to a Court of Law to justify his actions with this forthcoming 'war' You think I'm joking? After Saturday the anti-war march has now caused waves well beyond what they expected to achieve and there are now two Court Summons in the pipeline to bring Blair forward to justify his actions so far. If it goes that far and if Blair can't provide proof, and I mean proper proof, not cartoon drawings like Powell tried to get away with, then don't be surprised if in two to three weeks the UK withdraws from giving its full support to a 'war' which doesn't warrant it...

ppman

 

[8ball]

This is just another broad generalization of yours.

In your first three paragraphs, there is nothing of substance...it's all your opinion. And it's flat out wrong.


Oh, haven't you heard? Pres Bush is being sued to stop this war in court. Hmmm...

 

[p_p_man]

Oh, haven't you heard? Pres Bush is being sued to stop this war in court. Hmmm...

That doesn't happen in America...hmmmm...

ppman

 

[Ham Murabi]

You see Yanks we can actually tell our Government, in no uncertain words, what we want it to do or what we don't want it to do.

You lot in the "Land of the so-called Free" can't do that without being declared unpatriotic, unAmerican or any other piece of rubbish your Government decides to label you...

So as normal men and women you don't want to make waves because then the American Constitution will be quoted at you and within a few short moments you'll be portrayed on TV as somebody no-one else wants to live next door to...

ppman, what the fuck are you talking about?

 

[Lasher]

That doesn't happen in America...hmmmm...

ppman

It doesn't?

Court to decided on motion to dismiss War Powers lawsuit

Lawsuit to Challenge Bush's War Powers

The never-ending battle over war powers

The Nixon Shadow that Hovers Over the Bush White House

President needs congressional approval to declare war on Iraq

 

[concrete]

it's not a matter of a yes or no ( grey ) answer.
MAGNA ( champaigne ) CHARTER.
WAR over MY FAV. ROSES.
black dot-ink Henry...

thoughs in control now..
control the past..
HISTORY sheeds light, but not the TRUTH.......

 

[miles]

Thank God I don't live in the UK.

BO, lousy food, and shitty weather.

 

[Problem Child]

ppman...a silly twat who uses clorox for mouthwash and sniffs the asses of dead cats as a hobby. He should be hit by a speeding bus, fall off an ostrich while drunk, choke on his own vomit only to be resuscitated and then maimed by a mugger on his way home from the hospital. But then that would be a good day for him...

The annals of the ppman hall of shame are long and illustrious. He loathes America as he loathes himself and his own country. Typing furiously away as he drinks himself into a stupor on Bacardi, he sits hunched over in his own stench, his yellowing, ripped "Fuck America" T-shirt stained with his vile sweat brought on by hours of working himself into a froth over the injustices that America hath brought on the world. Farting incessantly and stopping only to defecate into his leaking, filthy loo, he pounds away at his tiny, underpowered computer, using American-made software, his craggy rum-soaked face dimly lit by an American-made light bulb, no doubt.

His hair, (what's left of it), lays greasily combed over on his bald pate and his paunch presses like a dead seal against the creaky produce crate he uses as a computer desk. His pimply white ass aches painfully from having to sit from hours on end on the pickle bucket (American pickles) he uses as a chair. Occasionally his aging, tuberculosis-inflicted mother screams at him to go get more "fags" (American-made Marlboros, of course...yes we're killing the world with our tobacco) and he dutifilly calls out "Yes mum...*hic", and drags on his old threadbare jacket in preparation to venture out to get his old mum a fix. As he opens the door to the roach-infested flat his dear old mum has rented since the war (and has let him live in since he was out of high school) he hears her yell "And don't spend the 'ole guvment check on 'ores this time, ya wanker!"

"Yes mum," he replies sheepishly, and shuts the door behind him.

"A short detour to the pub would do me right," he thinks as he stumbles off into the fog...

 

[Kymberley]

thanks for the short movie version

ppman...a silly twat who uses clorox for mouthwash and sniffs the asses of dead cats as a hobby. He should be hit by a speeding bus, fall off an ostrich while drunk, choke on his own vomit only to be resuscitated and then maimed by a mugger on his way home from the hospital. But then that would be a good day for him...

The annals of the ppman hall of shame are long and illustrious. He loathes America as he loathes himself and his own country. Typing furiously away as he drinks himself into a stupor on Bacardi, he sits hunched over in his own stench, his yellowing, ripped "Fuck America" T-shirt stained with his vile sweat brought on by hours of working himself into a froth over the injustices that America hath brought on the world. Farting incessantly and stopping only to defecate into his leaking, filthy loo, he pounds away at his tiny, underpowered computer, using American-made software, his craggy rum-soaked face dimly lit by an American-made light bulb, no doubt.

His hair, (what's left of it), lays greasily combed over on his bald pate and his paunch presses like a dead seal against the creaky produce crate he uses as a computer desk. His pimply white ass aches painfully from having to sit from hours on end on the pickle bucket (American pickles) he uses as a chair. Occasionally his aging, tuberculosis-inflicted mother screams at him to go get more "fags" (American-made Marlboros, of course...yes we're killing the world with our tobacco) and he dutifilly calls out "Yes mum...*hic", and drags on his old threadbare jacket in preparation to venture out to get his old mum a fix. As he opens the door to the roach-infested flat his dear old mum has rented since the war (and has let him live in since he was out of high school) he hears her yell "And don't spend the 'ole guvment check on 'ores this time, ya wanker!"

"Yes mum," he replies sheepishly, and shuts the door behind him.

"A short detour to the pub would do me right," he thinks as he stumbles off into the fog...

I love when I can just read what you and Miles write to him and just smile and say.....Yeah....what they said

 

[miles]

PC

That is the single funniest post I've ever seen here.

Farting incessantly and stopping only to defecate into his leaking, filthy loo

LMAO!

 

[p_p_man]

Re: thanks for the short movie version

I love when I can just read what you and Miles write to him and just smile and say.....Yeah....what they said

Haven't you heard? Problem Child and miles are one and the same...

Their clone names are Problem miles or miles Child...



ppman

 

[Problem Child]

Re: Re: thanks for the short movie version

Haven't you heard? Problem Child and miles are one and the same...

Their clone names are Problem miles or miles Child...



ppman

Hey just like busybody and ppman! Same spew...just different ends of the political spectrum.

 

[miles]

Re: Re: thanks for the short movie version

Haven't you heard? Problem Child and miles are one and the same...

Their clone names are Problem miles or miles Child...



ppman

ppman is so permanently polluted with cheap rum he forgets he's repeated this genuinely stupid joke several hundred times already.

Nice try, barf boy.