Derek and Clive Misunderstand Fucking Islam.

Dud: "I said 'ere, Pete. What the fuck is this then?"
Pete: "This is a mans mind in turmoil, Dud. Or in layman's terms, your standard fucking Islam".




Derek: Ere’ Pete. Um, you know what I don’t understand? It’s that fucking Islam. I don’t understand a fucking bit of it. It’s mostly for cunts. They’re all cunts, the fucking lot of ‘em!

Clive: Er, what I don’t understand is why Prime Minister Kevin rented balls Rudd has not replied to my letter.

Derek: Er, what was your correspondence concerning, Pete?

Clive: Well Dud, it was a simple message really. Dear Prime Minister, why are you such a boring, dreary little Lefty cunt? I have sent you a crazed Bengal Tiger. Please let him fly around the Lodge ripping your stupid fucking head off. If you do not like the Bengal Tiger, please send him to the Leader of the Opposition, who is also a cunt. Yours sincerely, Doris. Doris being my non de plume.

Derek: Lovely. You don’t have a plume then, Pete?

Clive: Non.

Clive: As you well know Dud, I’ve thought long and hard that a major part of the training of any celebrity or MSM journalist, should involve compulsory wrestling with a Bengal Tiger within a locked room.

Derek: A day not spent setting one of the great cats onto one of the great arseholes, is a day fucking wasted, Pete. Actually, I've thought just now, 'ere, long and hard? No, the horn has gone. I am sans horn.

Clive: Here, here Dudley, and over there as well. Though I do feel we have discussed your horn sufficiently in the past rather ad nauseum, so to speak. Now you mentioned earlier your er, misunderstanding of Islam, or as we like to call it at the Hippie Eradication Death Squad, the religion of peace…or else!

Derek: It’s bollocks!

Clive: Yes, but that’s only the parts that make the slightest sense at all, which unfortunately, none of it manages to do. The last thing we unenlightened Westerners must never do, with our meaningless and unlimited freedom, awesome art and triumphant science, vast economic success and great traditions of human rights, is to misunderstand Islam. This almost inevitably leads to an explosion. In fact Dud, you will find that more people have exploded, due entirely to misunderstanding the filth of Islam, than all other religions combined since cannibalism.

Derek: Ere, Pete, that Mohammad was a cunt. What a fucker! [On piano.]A fucker was he, oh yes, what a fucker was Mohammed, his wife was nine when she was hammered, not by fucking Christ... but Mohammed! What a shit! You may be a lover, but you ain’t no dancer... Islam gave me, fucking cancer!

Clive: Very nice, Dud. And I do just happen to know a fashionable baboon from Surrey who’d be very interested in appearing in a nice art style film clip for your ballad in praise of the Prophet of Fuck All. Now, regarding our favourite paedophile, rapist, bandit, mass murdering and Jew hating sand freak, Mohammad, well there are rumours and the word has got about, that he also had a negative side.

Derek: It wouldn’t be a side of bacon would it, Pete?

Clive: No, sadly it wouldn’t Dud. Mass murdering kiddie fiddlers covered in lice, filth and sand, consider our friend the pig an unclean creature. An unclean creature they consider it to be. Present any raving Islamist psychopath with a nice sucking pig and unlike us Infidels, they have the depth of religious and moral conviction and the discipline to say, “No, take away your accursed swine cakes and bring me the nine year old childbride instead, and with extra butter”.

Derek: Well, that’s your superior faith for you. So I’m a fucking Infidel then, Pete?

Clive: Yes Dud. Sadly, anyone who is happy, free and enjoying the natural depth, width, variety, human meaning, dynamics and nuance of a normal life is er, ipso facto, an infidel.

Derek: So being a Muslim is a fucking insane laugh then, Pete?

Clive: Yes, Dud. You can do anything you like at anytime, to anyone and anywhere, as long as you keep screaming loud enough and kill thousands of people. As a religion, it’s ideal for the unemployable or your common garden variety child killer. I even considered becoming a Muslim myself but I couldn’t stand the endless screaming and the rivers of blood everywhere, of those who had the slightest reservations, or felt unconvinced by Islam’s peaceful message.

Derek: What is that peaceful message, Pete?

Clive: Islam wants you dead.

Derek: Four little words, that say I love you.

Clive: Exactly Dud. In short, and if I’ve read the brochure right, the truth of Islam is for the most crazy and dangerous bastards on earth.

Derek: The brochure, Pete?

Clive: Yes Dud, or in layman’s terms, the fucking Koran.

Derek: What’s it like to read, Pete?

Clive: There is nothing to like when you read it, Dud. That’s the problem. To get a real taste of the claustrophobia and nausea inducing feel of it, well, do you remember that psycho bint you went out with, the one from the council flats?

Derek: Er, you mean the one with seventy three children, a turban and a beard?

Clive: You have never mentioned the beard before, Dud.

Derek: Didn’t I? Fucking Hell! I thought I mentioned it...anyway I don’t see that cunt anymore, fucking Mona Hammad.

Clive: Mona Hammad?

Derek: Yes, she was always looking up at the sky and scribbling into a Spirax folder.

Clive: What was in the Spirax, Dud?

Derek: I couldn’t really always tell, as most of the pages were stuck together. Er, pretty much unreadable, turgid, crude and insane bollocks, Pete.

Clive: I think you used to fuck Mohammad, Dud...again.

Derek: What a cunt!