IT AIN’T WHAT YOU DO, IT’S THE WAY THAT YOU DO IT…

…it ain’t what you do, it’s the way that you do it,

it ain’t what you do, it’s the way that you do it,

That’s what gets results!!!

I beg to differ!

I reckon this song could be misconstrued, by loonies, as suggesting that you should become the angel of death and kill all your family and friends, but just so long as you do it in the right way!

History proves this song to be the mindless babbling of an elderly crackwhore. Just look at my one example from the entirety of history that proves it!!

Nelson Mandela.

What did he do? – Abolish Apartheid and free the black citizens of South Africa and the world.

How did he do it? – He commanded what would now be called a ‘terrorist cell’, carrying out bombings, beatings and murders to achieve his goal.

Which of the above truths is publicised the most? Which did you know about? Was he a hero or a villain?

Who cares!?!?! It’s the song we’re talkin’ about!!

Nelson proves that, in his case at least, it was what he did that mattered and not how he did it.

What follows below underneath is an extract from Nelson’s private diaries which I stole from him when he came round my house for crumpets at 11:25:53am on the 21st November 2004. He was a belligerent racist with sweaty hands and a huge birthmark in the shape of a vaglna then, but what was he like before…..

July 12th 1961:

I have come to realise that I am a belligerent racist with sweaty hands and a birthmark in the shape of a vaglna!

Ok, ok….so the first question has been answered but maybe if we read on we can find out even more….

(You have no choice in this)

July 13th 1961:

I met the most beautiful girl in the world today! She’s short, round and a little bit hairy.

She reminds me of Mum.

I was in the underground lair plotting more ways that I can create devastation for the white devil, when something caught my eye in the street periscope. It was her.

I ran up the down escalator, caught my breath and then chased her down the street. As I caught up I saw she was with a white man, so I pulled back. As I walked past her she smelt like honey.

I couldn’t help myself…I stole her purse.

When I got home I went through it and found out her name – Winnie.

July 14th 1961:

Last night after we last spoke, I put on the gloves that I found in Winnie’s purse. I touched myself for three hours. Afterwards the guys came over, it was so embarrassing! They walked in just as I had tucked my banana between my legs and started to make kissy faces in the mirror. They laughed until they shlt themselves and then they r@ped me. It was great.

This is borin’! Nelson didn’t ‘alf go on a bit in his younger days!

To cut a long story short it turned out that the girl was in fact Winnie the Pooh, the white man was Christopher Robin, there was a vicious love triangle. Nelson murdered Christopher Robin by bludgeoning him to death with a butt plug, the media had a field day, Piglet was devastated, yadda, yadda, yadda…

The moral of this story is:

Don’t play the race card! If you do, we’ll fuk your black arse up!

NOTE TO POLITICALLY CORRECT BOREDOM MONGERS:-

If you didn’t like the last sentence, I suggest you fcuk off and read an e-mail sent by Delia Smith or a member of the clergy! NEWSFLASH: IT’S A JOKE! If you stick around reading my e-mails you’ll probably read stuff about homosexuality, religion, invalids (the disabled), paedophilia, different races, I’ll probably cuss your Mum and your Nan in the most vile and derogatory of ways creating vivid images in your head that’ll most likely lead you to become insane with a rage so consuming that you’ll gladly fcuk the very midwife that delivered you! The Swine!!