borders must DIE!

The gripping new novel by Miguel C. Kesey

"Haw, Bastards!" yelled Juan as he ran through the mud of 'Nam...

Not really, of course, just a gripping prologue to this complaint. The whole point of this story is that after I wrote a lovely poem about Ders Of Bor (IE, for those of you who are fuckwits : Borders) they go and ban us...

WhAT?!

Well, we were sitting in our usual spot, the stairs at the Ders Of Bor, on Saturday going : "Haw, haw..." and all that shite, and we decided to go into Borders...but, no...the security guard says : "The manager says you're all barred...get out" so we were forced out and screamed into his pathetic old face, "Wahnt some cheese?" which is I'mSadAgainist for "Fascist."

As we were kicked out, the silly little young skaters and pseudo-goths who'd suddenly decided to occupy a spot near us, said : "Aww, you got kicked out..."...well, burn me with a torch of the blow variety, Einstein, you think?! These dumbfucks should be shot down.

So, myself, Watters and Juan decided to go round and in the front entrance, and found it intensely easy to penetrate their fortress...we wandered around in Borders aimlessly for a while waiting to be chucked out...we decided to leave...they didn't catch us until we were actually walking out the door...great job, security! 10 out of 10 for shit protection...

The security guard, now a familiar face in Germany, said : "Next time you come in, that's trespassing, you're all barred..."

"Why?" said Juan, posing like a poser.

"Because...", began the security guards, our ears flapping with intrigue, "There were four lads dressed like yourselves in the toilet taking drugs, so the manager has banned everyone dressed like you..."

"Is that not a bit discriminitive?" said Miguel...also known as me.

"I know!" screamed Juan, "We don't even drink!"

"How do I know that?" said the security guard.

"So, if I wear different clothes, does that mean I can come here?" said Juan as we were walking out...the security guard obviously has never met a match quite like Juan, with his manly stubble and take-the-piss comments disguised with a deadpan look that could kill.

"I dunno..." said the bright young security guard with four degrees in "Fuck All", "You could set up a meeting with the manager..."

What it all boils down to, however, is that Borders are fascist dumbfucks, who're discriminating against a style of clothing...What really pisses me off is that if a prep or a ned went in there and took drugs in the toilet, they wouldn't ban everyone wearing Chinos or with a flick in their hair, or everywhere wearing Kappa and tucking their trousers into their socks...fucking fascist bastards! Borders, you can stick your service up your arse, quite simply, because I don't want to buy anything from a bunch of Nazi skidmarks like yourselves...what's your best seller? Probably Mein Kampf...fucking Thatcherites.

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