A /BRIT/ CHRISTMAS TALE!
The Australian sun beat mercilessly down on Auslad's brow. He took off his cork hat and stood back from the bright white glare of the tinnie fort he had built. "This will keep the wogs out", he said to himself. There was nothing but raw outback for miles but he knew the niggers could be anywhere. They could be behind any rock or shrub waiting to jump out and obnoxiously converse with one another in a shouty tone or randomly break out into daunce. The dust swirled around him as he entered his Citadel of NEETdom. He could still smell the sweet alcohol in the rim of some of the tinnies.
As night fell he decided to stop posting on /brit/ and get some rest. As he lay sleeping he began to dream. He was in the outback but the colours were wild a vibrant. He panicked, believing he was having a tinnie induced seizure when a nasal, high pitched voice spoke out to him. "Alright cunt?" It was an aboriginal elder. His skin was black and he had white primitive motifs painted all over his emaciated body. "Wh-what do you want from me? Where am I?", stuttered Auslad. The elder paused and with a blank, yellow-eyed expression he thus spake: "giz some money cunt, this is the land of the Wingananganoola tribe. You need a fuckin' loicense mate. Only Abboes can squat 'ere!"
Auslad wasn't dreaming. The wog was real. He felt his anger swelling deep inside him. "How dare thou address thy conqueror thusly!". Then, with a force of bathos that would destroy the sides of any Deano, the wog exploded into a nigger soup of gore and blood! Auslad was covered in the orange and red mucus of exploded darkie. He was in shock. What had happened? He wiped the flesh from his eyes to see before him . . . Father Christmas! "Got him!", he chuckled as he descended from his sleigh. "I hope I didn't get you too dirty, Auslad. I come with news". Auslad couldn't believe it. In the oppressive heat and silence of the desert there was good old British Father Christmas. "C-come into my fortress", he stammered.
"The meet up is going badly", said Father Christmas, "the /brit/ lads have split into three or four tribes. The trannies are grooming Dorset and the Bum Bum King is manically hitting lads with hammers and declaring them banned. Madlad won't stop screaming incoherently. They need your intervention". Auslad looked at the floor of his tinnie castle mutely. He knew this would happen. The lads were just too energetic. The British state had impeded any outlet they may have had so they were all turning on each other. "I can't get to Lapland and sort this mess out. It's too far!", he protested. Father Christmas shook his head in disappointment. "Be the BO you were born to be, Auslad. Onlyyou can save the /brit/ Christmas meet up. I've done me rounds here in the southern hemisphere. I'm heading back up to Lapland now. Come with me". Auslad knew in his heart what he must do, though it weighed heavily on him.
Both Auslad and Father Christmas embarked the sleigh and off they flew to the highest heavens. Auslad and father Christmas laughed spat at orientals and poojeets as they shouted racial slurs at the people below. Slowly, the green and blue waves of the northern lights drew near. There was a campfire below and high pitched squealing. It was the /brit/lads. They had ganged up on Dorset and were burning him on the fire. They were breaking into arguments about how they should torture the poor, hairy, homosexual homunculus. Bum bum king locked horns with Steiner's tusks. Aggnonce was screaming something about anarcho-nazbolism into Wessex's grizzled beard. 22st and Bins were holding Panzie's arms and legs and swinging him while he giggled. Madlad was chasing down Mancs with an axe and chopping at him in the air. It was chaos!
The sleigh landed and Auslad jumped out. "Oi, oi!" Everyone's head turned at once to their beloved BO. "Calm down lads, we all hate niggers and jews afterall!" There was a tense, silent pause. Then came a huge cheer from the lads. Dorset was let down from the fire, his few remaining hairs burned off. Steiner and Bum Bum King hugged one another. Aggnonce offered Wessex a friendly horn of mead which he duly accepted. 22st and Bins carried on swinging Panzie, oblivious to the scene. Madlad chopped down a fig tree with one fell swoop and offered some to Mancs. All was right. Father Christmas turned to Auslad. "Well done, my child, now for your present!" He handed Auslad a single room temperature tinnie with a red white and black bow tied elaborately in the shape of a swastika affixed. A tear rolled down Auslad's cheek. Finally, the lads were all friends again!
Dorset sadly passed away that night for unrelated reasons.