Category: Dispatches
My stories? Fuck your neat little boxes, but if I’ve gotta slap a label on this raging beast, call it ‘Truth Porn.’ Yeah, that’s it—raw, filthy, in-your-face dispatches from the rotting guts of this world. Not politics, not economics, not some pansy-ass ‘social commentary’—it’s the unfiltered howl of reality, stripped naked and screaming, with all the hypocrisy, greed, and bullshit laid bare for you drooling morons to choke on. Category? It’s me kicking the universe in the teeth and daring it to bite back.
It’s Truth O’Clock, You Filthy Bastards
Listen up, you degenerate data-junkies, it’s time for another dose of reality straight from the poisoned pen of Spider Thompson, your friendly neighbourhood truth-slinger. Last [Read More…]
The Truth Hurts, Snowflakes: Deal With It
Here’s the kicker: if you’re whining about my words, you’re proving my point. You’re so busy crying about “mean” language that you’re ignoring the real problem – your own complicity.
The Filth is Everywhere, and I’m Sick of Breathing it
X’s screaming again, and my head’s pounding like a jackhammer on cheap speed. The feeds are a goddamn inferno – notifications piling up faster than [Read More…]
Burning the House Down and Calling it Journalism
I’m sitting here, chain-smoking something that’s probably illegal in most countries, staring at my screen, and wondering how the hell we let these two-bit, hate-peddling [Read More…]
DOGE: Farage and Yusuf’s Bullshit Circus of Fake Outrage
Listen up, you filthy city-dwellers, because I’m about to shove a jagged shard of truth right up the collective colon of this so-called “DOGE” scam. Yeah, DOGE – or is it DOLGE? Who gives a fuck when the whole thing’s a steaming pile of Reform Party propaganda, cooked up by Nigel Farage and his unelected sidekick.
The Good, the Bad and the Cultish
Last night, I’m half-drunk, scrolling X, and some post I threw out there lights a match under the mob – half of ‘em screaming bloody murder, the other half nodding like they’ve seen the face of God. Got me thinking. Cults. Yeah, cults – those greasy little traps for the lonely and brain-dead, where some silver-tongued psycho plays messiah to a room full of suckers desperate for a hug and a purpose. It’s not religion; it’s a con job in cosmic drag. Salvation, belonging, some galaxy-brained “truth” – all yours if you hand over your free will and whatever’s left of your sanity. They don’t want your soul, you idiots – they want your compliance.
The Reform Cult’s Whiny Tantrum: A Dispatch from the Gutter
Listen up, you brain-dead mouthbreathers, because I’m only typing this once before I puke from the sheer stupidity of it all. Nigel Farage and his [Read More…]
James McMurdock’s Great Loan Caper
Listen up, you filthy animals, because your friendly neighbourhood truth-slinger is back to carve up the latest political carcass. This time, it’s James McMurdock, the [Read More…]
Musk’s America Party, A Billionaire’s Tantrum or a Real Rebellion?
In the neon-drenched cesspool of American politics, where the air stinks of recycled promises and corporate handshakes, Elon Musk – billionaire, space cowboy, and self-proclaimed [Read More…]
The Great British Party Pile-Up
Jesus fucking Christ, what a week for the UK’s political circus. If you’re one of those brain-dead drones on X or whatever other digital sewer [Read More…]