“Oh no, we weren’t”
“He’s behind you”
“Oh no he isn’t”
What a friggin pantomime, that whole farce was. Don’t they know us Brits don’t ask directions but all of them were also men, apart from our Faye, so there is no chance of them going “Excuse me, we are trying to stay away from that big nuclear thingy you got going on there in the desert, could you tell us the way to the local chippy?” I mean, nobody believed the Iranians with President Amadoingyaheadin anyhow but then the Brits come back and sell all their stories of “torture” to the wonderful tabloid that is the News of the World. The Iranians apparently separated them and stuck them in cells. What were they expecting? The Holiday Inn Easter Package. The Brits also claim phsychological torture and blindfolds. That happens at a London club called The Hoist on a Thursday night, what’s Faye’s flamin problem? Everytime I saw her, she was in a tracksuit with a fag in her mouth. Actually, just like The Hoist. If you really want to torture her, take away those damn ciggies.
