Do you consider the pursuit and slaughter of animals for entertainment a God-given right, even though it clearly fucking isn't? Are you infuriated by… - Charlie Brooker
" "Do you consider the pursuit and slaughter of animals for entertainment a God-given right, even though it clearly fucking isn't? Are you infuriated by the lack of local shops, even though their closure is a direct consequence of pricks like you going to Sainsbury's in your Land Rover every week? Does the paucity of rural buses, post offices and police stations enrage you, even though it was avaricious cunts like you voting the Tories in for 18 years that got these services into such a state in the first place? Do you think farmers should be granted further subsidies, even when both the BSE and Foot and Mouth debacles were largely a result of their grisly cost-cutting exercises? Do you think it's basically a class issue? You're right. It is. You're a bunch of chasm-gobbed Fauntleroys, and no-one feels in the slightest bit sorry for you - in fact the further you march, the louder we'll laugh, because you brought it all on yourselves.
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About Charlie Brooker
Charlton "Charlie" Brooker (born 3 March 1971) is a satirist, TV critic, TV presenter and columnist for the UK's Guardian newspaper.
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Charlton "Charlie" Brooker
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Charlton Brooker
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Additional quotes by Charlie Brooker
So whose side is it on, is it on Anthea's side or is it on human kind side? Well the answer is it's on nobody's side but its own; it's a TV program, it's just gonna sneer at everyone because that's what TV programs do they sneer and sometimes they just roll around slapping their bums! (rolls about pointing his buttocks at the camera and slapping them whilst grunting "Nuh, nuh!") On the sofa, because they're so bloody, fucking pleased with themselves.
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The insomniac brain comes in various flavours; different personality types you're forced to share your skull with for several hours. It's like being trapped in a lift with someone who won't shut up. Sometimes your companion is a peppy irritant who passes the time by humming half- remembered TV theme tunes until 7am. Other times it's a morose critic who has recently compiled a 1,500-page report on your innumerable failings and wants to run over it with you a few times before going to print. Worst of all is the hyper-aware sportscaster who offers an uninterrupted commentary describing which bits of your body are currently the least comfortable. No matter where you put that leg, he won't be satisfied. And he's convinced you've got one arm too many.
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