by Nevs Coleman

Squirrels annoyed with lack of nuts, Indie bands also.

Harry Armitage reports from a park.

Fred The Squirrel shocked seasoned reporter Harry Armitiage yesterday  with a colourful outburst, almost certainly fueled by ‘Quack Quack’, The designer drug hitting the ponds of South London and leaving all manner of fowl literally bald.

Plucky Malone, ex-scourge of The Farm, found lost and wandering.

‘Fucking what fucking happens is I’m knockin’ about trying to find nuts for me family when this fuckin’ beardy cunt with a fuckin’ great fringe fuckin’ …looms about. Looming with his lumberjack shirt. I thought he was a lost shit lumberjack! New boy cos he didn’t have no axe on him, did he? But then he just starts moping about talking about his lost missus or somethin. Told ‘im to try facebook. My Granny’s on there!

Fred The Squirrel.

Fred paused here to turn his back to our reporter, smoke appeared to be rising from his paws.

Well, i thought Larry the Moper would cheer up then, cause along comes a bird, skinny thing. Big fringe. Moping. I thought they would start getting at it. None of that, son. Turns out it was another bloke. Then more of the wankers!  They were waiting for the bit where the sun flares through the leafs an’ all. Fine, but it means i can’t get my nuts in for all their fuckin’ yachting shoes across the gaff!  Our Bert’d be bleedin’ ‘ungry! Had to fob him off with a syringe to play with and he got some skag in his eyeball. Blind now, poor little bleeder. Find somewhere else to knock about with your whinging, you arseholes!

'Shit Axeless Lumberjacks, yesterday.'

Harry Armitage. A Park.


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