Get This Down Your Neck You Harpy!

Patsy Hewitt can just fuck off

Given that I am not a 17 year old harpy with 7 kids to 7 fathers, 2 ABSOs, an addiction to Heat magazine and would look out of place on Trisha I shouldn’t really have a problem with this. But then I am a Guttersnipe… and I do.

This is also going to contain some really quite creative swearing. Please move along if easily offended. In fact please move along if the thought of gang sodomy involving 2 marrows and a funnel offends.

A swingeing increase in tax on alcopops and other alcoholic drinks favoured by teenagers is being demanded by the health secretary, Patricia Hewitt, in an attempt to stop young people damaging their health by binge drinking. She has written to the chancellor asking him to ratchet up the cost of alcohol in his next budget, to price it beyond the reach of youngsters' earnings or pocket money.

Oh for sweet fuck’s sake. Is there anything this fucking sanctimonius perfect-poo fucking dicator won’t touch? Just fucking leave me alone, and leave everyone else alone. In fact do your bit for needless CO2 emissions and just stop fucking breathing out will you?

This governments answer to everything they don’t like is “tax it and it will stop.. if it doesn’t then Prescott can afford another secretary”. I wonder how many breezers he needed to pour down her to get her down for the Hammertime.

What are they going to do next? We’ve got a real problem with murderers so we’re going to tax guns and knives? We have a problem with terrorists so we’re going to tax explosives and rucksacks? JESUS FUCKING CHRIST WOMAN. Has it crossed your pathetic party fucking bootboy mind that if they can’t afford it they’re just going to nick it from the Off Licence?

Ms Hewitt was responding to disturbing evidence that drinking is blighting young people's lives and causing them long-term medical damage. She said: "I am asking Gordon Brown, when he comes forward with the budget next year, to really increase taxes on alcohol. And particularly things like alcopops and some of the stuff that quite a lot of teenage boys and girls are drinking, because we've got a real problem with binge drinking among young people."

So to sum up… the interfering fucking harridan thinks the price is going to go up and people will stop? As mentioned above they are either going to blag it out of Threshers or, as the Devil, The The Young Greek Chap and the erstwhile Mr. Worstall ALL point out, they’ll probably resort to the choice drink of the terminally skint – Special Brew and White Lightning. Good one Patsy, did I mention you’re a fucktard?

She disclosed her ambition in an interview with the winners of a children's newspaper competition, who straightforwardly asked her for an exclusive. In a departure from normal Whitehall protocol, she told the children - all aged under 11 - about the normally secret correspondence with the Treasury.

I’ll bet they’re all screaming out to vote Labour now aren’t they? They're fucking ELEVEN for Christ's sake. Why don't you go stand outside Tiger Tiger and say that on a Friday night? Is it because our nations drinkers would take you round the back and show you their WKD side? Is it because you'll get stoned to death? Is it? Yes? And a good fucking thing too!

She said: "We've got enormous numbers of young people, particularly on a Friday and Saturday night, ending up in the casualty department of hospitals because they're drunk. They've fallen over and bashed their heads in because they're drinking too much. I think putting taxes up on alcohol would help discourage young people from spending too much money on alcohol."

How? Surely if the object were to stop people spending too much money on alcohol then you should be making them cheaper?

Earlier this month Ms Hewitt launched a "Know Your Limits" campaign against binge drinking. A department spokesman said it was targeted at the under-25s because they were "the most likely to drink irresponsibly and cause harm to themselves and others".

I’ll tell you how to know your limits Pats… everyone should carry around a photo of you and a photo of your latest speech. When drinking read the speech. If it looks like a good idea then you’re pissed so go home.

Failing that look at the photo. If you think “She’s a bit cute” then report to the nearest A&E department. You clearly need a stomach pump and an enema.

So what’s to be done? Well in his usual style our Greek fella has some ideas,

I'd suggest locking her up, but there aren't any prison cells spare. I'd tie her to the train tracks, but the trains don't fucking run on time. I'd blindfold her and set her loose in an Army firing range, but the guns they've been issued are notoriously prone to jamming. I'd stuff her in a crate, block all the airholes, and ship her to Timbuktu, but our borders are far too porous to keep the hectoring harpy out. Putting her in one of her hospitals and waiting for her to get MRSA appeals to my sense of cosmic justice, but that would be too clumsy and random.

A nice touch… but not quite sever enough I think, so over to the Devil

“I suggest that we strap her to a chair, with her eylids held open (just so the whole experience hurts more), and with her head clamped so that her face is turned upwards; we would then gaffa-tape a large funnel into her mouth and pour alcopops into it. The first bottle would go in and she'd start to choke and retch but it'd have to go down eventually; and then more and more bottles of the most hideous Bacardi Breezers—watch her legs open after the second one—and other sweet, icky things would be poured down her funnel—with only enough respite to stop her drowning—until she's violently sick (the force of the spasms ripping her eyelids off) and one by one her organs start to collapse or explode (depending upon their make-up and function) and she dies a lingering, alcopop-fuelled death.”

A good idea don’t you agree well I would like to add:

Once we’ve drained every bit of blue fucking WKD into the quivering remains of her once proud shell we get all those redundant doctors and nurses to resuscitate her then force feed her every bit of broken glass from those empty bottles.

That should give the NHS its “best year ever”.

Then with as much Adrenalin as it takes to keep the bitch alive and in agony we drag her sorry stuporous frame round the route of every pub crawl in England leaving her to spend the last of her days pissing herself in a bus station while the tramps share their Special Brew with her.

I think I speak for all good Guttersnipes when I ask Patsy to FUCK OFF OUT OF OUR LIVES! If Bacardis were a bit cheaper then perhaps she would have been married.