Britain is a nation of masochists who love to be victimised, punished and denigrated. You can see it in their sports; in their defilement of their own glorious history, in their penchant to vote in a Labour government that will punish each and every citizen with extreme oblivial prejudice. With the obligatory mug of tea in hand, it is with joyous fervour that masochist Britons eagerly await their master’s whip with keen anticipation. As for voting in another socialist Tory government, well, it’s the same thing, isn’t it?
Whip me! Ooh, that feels so good! These are the perpetual victims of a British culture that is one profoundly rooted in its own galumptious masochistic joy. Imagine voting in a Labour government with glee knowing that they will decimate your pension fund to throw your money into an endless pit of useless socialist utopian schemes that are not sustainable in any way and will cease to exist when the money is siphoned out by the jackal Labourati hyenas running these parasitic schemes.
There is pure lachrymose exhilaration as Britain’s illustrious history is desecrated by Marxist educationalists and woke media controllers. They call it decolonisation, when in fact, it is a form of book burning utilised by the likes of Hitler and Stalin. The cancelling and re-writing of British history in the interests of woke politics is an evil pestilence that brings many socialist Britons to the point of orgasm.
Brits love to pay tax, and the more tax they pay, the better they feel. Who wants to work hard for their entire lifespan only to have 90% of their wealth siphoned off into some black hole government account to be pissed against a wall? Well, it’s a British person, a born masochist where the infliction of extreme pain and poverty on one’s self is greeted with joyous epithymetic abandon and merriment.
To be whipped in dungeons, stretched on elongating torture devices, hanged, drawn and quartered or simply put in the stocks is a British tradition in sadistic abandon that sates the British masochistic national temperament.
British weather, of course, may be the ideal state of being for masochist Britons, where it pisses down with rain for 85% of the year. Add in the biting cold and freezing wind, and that’s when you see Brits going on their camping trips soaked to the bone and loving every moment of their experience.
It could be the stiff upper lip, another British trait, where when every indignity is thrown upon the British perpetual victim, one only bites the lip and carries on without a chunter, although some may argue this is a virtue, and sign of Stoic strength, others may just call it stupidity.
Anyway, enjoy the next 15 fucking years of soviet Labour misery gloriously satisfying your inherent British masochism as the politics of envy massacre any form of wealth you may own; have another cup of tea, and put on the telly to watch yet another re-run on the official Labour Party propaganda channel — the BBC. It’s pissing down with rain outside, although it’s meant to be summer and some yobs just stole your car from the drive. Smile with joyous abandon and revel in your masochism, you’re British.
This place used to be called Great Britain wot a load of bunkem. It’s more like Grotty Britain.
This is why the Brits never had a revolution cuz they’re revolting cowards.
British ppl and their sh-t food and British teeth are f-aggots.