“Sod Off, Swampy”

Tim has a wonderful post up about some Greenpeace morons who invaded the oil trading ring in London and tried to shut it down…only to get the bejeebus beat out of them by the traders. God, it’s wonderful.
Listen to this one poor dear:
“We bit off more than we could chew. They were just Cockney barrow boy spivs. Total thugs,” one protester said, rubbing his bruised skull. “I’ve never seen anyone less amenable to listening to our point of view.”
Lest there be any confusion on the issue, here’s the reasonable and rational manner in which the Greenpeace Civilized Debating Union presented their “point of view:”
They made their way to the trading floor, blowing whistles and sounding fog horns, encountering little resistance from security guards. Rape alarms were tied to helium balloons to float to the ceiling and create noise out of reach. The IPE conducts “open outcry” trading where deals are shouted across the pit. By making so much noise, the protesters hoped to paralyse trading.
Heh. The best part is they made their foray onto the floor after lunch, and the London boys always have a few pints with lunch so they were ready to rumble.
God, I wish they’d come to New York and try this on the Coffee Floor…

13 Responses to ““Sod Off, Swampy””

  1. Mr. Bingley says:

    “Sod Off, Swampy”
    I may have to get that put on a t-shirt.

  2. Crusader says:

    Evil fascist money grubbers, unwilling to have someone’s view forced upon them. The Audacity!

  3. Ken Summers says:

    Aw man, you beat me to it. Accursed time zones!

  4. But you got to sleep in whilst Bingster was scouring the ‘net. Be grateful he’s on that wall!!!

  5. The Real JeffS says:

    Mr. Bingley, if you put that on a t-shirt, I’ll buy a few. I have some friends in the Northwest who would LOVE them!

  6. Copyrighted and in the works as I write. So don’t touch that dial!!

  7. J. Peden says:

    “The protesters, strangely unaccustomed to such high concentrations of methane gas, found themselves ‘unfairly-if-specially-abled’ even further, if that is possible, by this lesson of Gaia’s sage, yet overly obscure previous warnings: ‘it’s too late, baby, it’s too late, we’re on the eve of destruction’, which the startled champions had not really understood, though had dutifully parrotted by holy struggle’s mantra since 1968, only to become now subject to the Bush rule of Satan. A-gain, in yet another Groundhog Day of reality, necessitated by the dictates of the pleroma, the collective unconsciousnesses of the perseverating imbecilics.” Allah Akbar! Petroleum Distilate Akbar!

  8. Mr. Bingley says:

    Wasn’t sniffing the Delphic vapors supposed to give one wisdom?
    Of course, looking at how Athens turned out…

  9. Mr. Bingley says:

    And what, pray tell, is a “rape alarm”?

  10. SalimsCuz3 says:

    Potty mouth, Salim Troll. We don’t talk like that here.

  11. Rob Fisher says:

    Mr. Bingley: A rape alarm makes a bleeping noise to drive off rapists, in lieu of blowing their brains out with a bullet.
    Anyway, I’m enjoying the site (came here from Samizdata). Put me down for one of those T-Shirts!

  12. What a lovely thing to say! We sure appreciate it and the thumbs up on the T-shirt {8^P. I’m sure Bingster will chime in as soon as he returns from the wilds of Norf Cackalackey. (Urban animal that he is, there’s no danger of him going ‘Walden’…)

  13. Mr. Bingley says:

    Thanks Rob!
    I guess pc gals need to use that, since gawd forbid they actually attempt to hurt the bastard or pepper his scummy eyes out.

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