It never ceases to amaze how the punters keep putting their trust in reivers.
Keep trusting the glib, lying bastards.
Keep putting their own stringy necks down on self-supplied chopping blocks.
Keep believing the lies of the propaganda machine and keep believing that their little piece of paper with their easily changed pencil scratches amounts to their one and only contribution to ‘democracy’.
I piss myself laughing these days to see all these fuckwits silly enough to wear that nauseating high vis clothing – that flouro crap – as they go about their menial tasks out there in the street.
Some even seem to believe that their SLAVE UNIFORM lends them some small status;
the poor silly bastards.
The Poms called it ‘livery’ – as in something arranged to differentiate the beasts from their masters – a practice likely adopted from the Romans.
All of which is totally unimportant except for the fact that so many dullards have somehow been conned into dressing like complete loons in this day and age of alleged democracy.
Wake up and think it through you dolts.
It isn’t about safety at all.
It’s about making you all look like complete jokes and prize loons.
Trust me, you do; especially you lot of the foreman/overseer class with your cute, bright orange/ retroflective stripe, ensembles.
If you have a problem with that – consider how the three arseholes of the apocalypse want to dress the bikies during their stay in the concentration camps.
Work it through, you dills.
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