So, there we were idly going about our business of a Sunday morning – via picking up our weekly blooms down Columbia Road – when what was thrust in front of us by an irate irate person? Only the Cunts of a Sunday aka The Mail on Sunday, deep withinside of which was a free-for-all-the-cunts-who-buy-the-Mail-On-Sunday copy of the Greatest Ditties of the Pet Shop Boys.
*(Teena Marie) 12″ scratches to a halt; (very sexy little Mercedes 280 SL) screeches to a halt; head falls off*
So, Boys… J’adore you, j’adore all who sail in you, j’adore most of whom you’ve sailed… but the Mail on Sunday? Also known as endorsed homophobia? Of course, we expect nothing less of the Mail on Sunday who would sell their mother down the London River for a quick buck and hypocrisy has never been a notion they’ve lost sleep over, but Boys, c’mon… Do we really think they are the most appropriate bed-fellows? And when we say bed-fellows, we of course mean the readers of the Daily Mail and all affiliates would most probably shoot you rather than get into bed with you. Do we really? Think? It was all a good? Thing?
We will now use the word ‘disappointed’.