My Big Fat Gypsy Fuck You

All the classy bitches be wearing uplit skirts yo

I love chavs. I love watching chavs wear ridiculous clothes. I love watching chavs demonstrate their primary level education with comments of such sweeping, jaw dropping, ignorance it beggars belief. I love it when they cram their spray tanned bodies into diamante-encrusted polyester wedding dresses. Dresses so tacky they make Jordan look like Coco Chanel.

But then I’m a middle class twat and My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding allows me to sit on my Habitat sofa, eating my lemon pepper hummus, and point at these aliens. These aliens who abduct girlfriends, bare knuckle fight in car parks, and annoy their neighbours.

So… How am I going to link this to the wonderful – nee encroyable (twattishness) – world of online slots and Internet gambling. Well… It’s a tricky one. The truth is: I hate My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding.  I think it doth mock the meat it feeds on.  It’s an easy target but – ultimately – we’re the cunts for laughing.

The world of online slots and gaming has its detractors.  Many people say it should be banned. It’s dangerous. It’s addictive. It shouldn’t be allowed. I say live and let live. People must be allowed to gamble and they must be allowed wear dresses made of cerise polyester.

Of course, we should moderate and control. There are problem gamblers and this is a serious issue. However, it is up to you to you. If you choose to celebrate your child’s communion with a 100ft limo and a £10,000 party  – go for it. If you want to play online slot machines – go for it. If you want to smoke weed, shoot heroin, and snort so much coke your nose collapses – go for it.

Just don’t get into debt and don’t overcharge me when you tarmac my drive.

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