The Four Donkey Riders Of The Ablogalypse.

As local blogging has been getting a bit tired of late, with the same old bickering and same old responses to the same old issues, I thought I'd go off in search of pastures new and see if I could find a blogging community to rival our very own, here in Thanet.

I've managed to get from Dover to Eastbourne, so far, with an awful lot of ground to cover before I can form a proper picture of the whole Country.

But from what I gather up to now, things aren't that far removed from here.
Except for a notable drop in the amount of complaints about corruption and/or incompetence in their councils and hardly any grumblings about noisy aircraft bending the tops of their ariels.
Though there were several alleged sightings of small and sporadic patches of blue rain over Brighton, which have been cause for concern for a number of years. Speculation as to their origin includes....

1. Over population by blue-rinsers with thinning hair, coupled with frequent, strong South Westerly gusting.

2. Little bits of the sky falling off.

3. Passenger jets cleaning their toilets through, when they've finally managed to get everyone to sit down and belt up, before beginning their descent to Gatwick.

4. Subliminal campaigning on behalf of the Conservative party.

5. Alien invasion craft echoes, left upon their departure from our dimension.


Tease me gently with a carrot, it was just like being back home!


Anyhow, getting back to the title of this post, and the point, who are these Burro Borne Bloggers of Blight, that seem to appear everywhere along the South East coastline of England?

According to my version of the Bible, which has had an awful lot of corrections made to it since I first got the thing as a Christening present, they would be....


Ware.
Not to be confused with 'aware', which means something almost completely the opposite, this sandpacker is obsessed with selling you something, be it the idea that they have even half a clue as to what they're babbling on about, a pair of used undies or simply a bunch of lies.


Petulence.
Yes, yes, probably me! Tch! The RSPCAtheist who doesn't give a crap about the donkey, so long as it gets you where you want to go. If it collapses on the way, not to worry, there's plenty more donkeys by the sea.
Still, truth comes out in what you say, not how you say it, surely!


Farming.
I'd say that almost half of the Ablogalypse follow this Manure Machine Messiah, each with their own little seed of an idea which they're hoping the farmer will grow to fruition for them, knowing full well, in their heart of hearts, that they'd never be able to do it for themselves.


Deaf.
Which would cover the 'almost other half', who refuse to hear anything that might upset the balance of the carefully fabricated Universe which they've created (or had created for them) to protect them from the real one.


Plus I'll bet that my copy is the only one with Jesus throwing a bucket of water over a dog orgy AND punching a nun in the tit, for getting one of her Sunday school children stoned!