Rankin’ Papa Gee ‘im say: “Lawd Jesus me yoot! Send dat Clivey Bwoy all your bloodclaaat money and ting so dat me yardie bredrin nah mash up me pussyclaaat wid da machetes. Blessed love!
Mr Gary Hoadley is unable to fulfil his obligation to submit copy to this blog today, despite Tuesday being “his day” to do so.
This is due to the fact that he’s being held prisoner in a West Indian cafe close to his Fulham home by a number of murderous Jamaican yardie cut-throats who are threatening to “mash ‘im up to raass” unless he pays his bill.
To help him to achieve this, and to avoid him being butchered and thrown in the curry goat, dutch pot, please send every penny you have to the address below:
The Gary Hoadley Caribbean Food Trust
C/O Clivey Dee
The Boyleyn Arms
In the meantime, while you’re waiting for your house to be sold, why not visit this magazine to see what “Rankin’ Papa Gee” and others of a similar vile ilk, have been writing about recently. A blockbusting new issue will be published this Friday by all accounts. A geezer down the pub told me that. Easy now me bredrin. Roots!…etc.
Blessed love me yoot