Thousands of homeowners fleeced by fraudulent advertising!
An undercover operation by the Talun Chronicle has discovered terrible and disgusting news regarding the false advertising of housing stock in Britain.
We sent our top undercover journalist, Tiddles Toesy, undercover to uncover this covered secret that has, until this point, remained covered up and under cover.
Tiddles reported back with grave news indeed:
“The supermarket has run out of cans of John West tuna, mother goddamn fuckers!”
After he had calmed down, and we had ordered him some sushi from a local restaurant, he reported his findings.
According to Tiddle’s investigation, houses all over the country are being sold to unsuspecting cats with their internal dimensions grossly overestimated.
The ‘Dead Badger Bathtub Scale’, which has been the dominant form of estimating property size since the dawn of cucumbers, is being misrepresented by nefarious estate agents everywhere!
“As most moggies have no fucking clue how the ‘Dead Badger Bathroom Scale’ actually works, these wankers are just proper fucking folk over with it”
Said our foul mouthed intrepid reporter.
“If you actually get off your tail long enough to read the fucking regulations, it’s clear as piss after five litres of water that the Mustelidae used to measure bathtubs should be of badger size or larger!”
“These tosspot estate agents, with their fucking shiny suits and shit, are using cunting otters! Sometimes even shitting ferrets!”
“That way the arsebandits can say a house has a 4 dead badger bathtub, when actually the fucker only fits 2!”
“Even worse, the bastards sometimes sell a house saying it has a 4 dead badger bath and there’s already 3 fucking dead wolverines in it!”
“The new buyer moves in and goes:”
“Huh, what the actual effing fucknose? This bath already has 3 dead wolverines in it, what the fuck am I gonna do with my dead badgers now, and I’ll be fucked if that’s measured using actual adult badger carcasses, them bastards used fucking cubs!”
“I mean look at this fucker! Look at it!”
“John, stop fucking about and take some cunting pictures you prick! Do your fucking job man.
Jesus Christ, why do I always get stuck with fucking amateurs?”
“So, this bathtub right, no fucking way there’s 4 dead badgers gonna fit in there is there? And of course, take a fucking look around. The dead mustelidae in the bathtub number directly relates to the size of the rest of the fucking property. You think you bought a twatting palace and instead you get a bollocking pod!”
“Look! John for fucks sake! Photo’s! Take some fucking photos! Fuck, who’d be me?”
“See, there’s not even enough room to swing a human!”
“Fucking craziness! All them uphill gardeners should be lined up against a wanking wall and fucking shot. Bastards!”
“I’ve had it with this shit. ‘Ere, Gladys, put my cheque in the mail, I’m off to the boozer to get absolutely shitfaced and have it away with a dirty alley cat, Fuck y’all, Tiddles out!”
After the sudden and expletive laden departure of our leading reporter on this story, the Talun Chronicle editorial team filled the rest of it in, at no expense whatsoever, by interviewing members of the public and people who work in the housing industry.
“This bathtub easily fits six dead badgers, just as it’s stated in the brochure!”
Mr. Marmaduke Mogg, CEO of We Fuck You Cos We Can Estate Agents, Regent Street, London.
“This is absolutely preposterous!”
“We estate agents are noble and work within our field with integrity and honour.”
“The regulations regarding the size of dead mustelidae in the dead badger bathtub scale are always followed to the letter and frankly, sir, I find it disgusting that you have the gall to even suggest anything different.”
“You are very lucky indeed that I have a previous appointment with an Asian Masseuse in Soho or I would sue the trousers off your rag of a newspaper.”
Mr. Mogg then snorted four grams of cocaine, pounded fifteen shots of whisky and promptly fell over.
“This is where that bastard Mogg touched me inappropriately the first time!”
Jennifurr Thang, Ex-Employee of We Fuck You Cos We Can Estate Agents, Regent Street, London.
“Oh yeah. This shit totally happens, like, all the time. It’s like, industry standard practice or something innit.
You talk to that Mogg bastard yeah?
Yeah, well don’t believe a word he says. He’s full of it. Told me he loved me he did, and that he would leave his wife for me. Soon as we did the bathroom boogie he sacked me! Bloody arsehole.
I got the last laugh though. He didn’t know I had herpes! Hee Hee Hee!”
“Oh yeah, we use that all the time. I just suckered some young couple into thinking this is a four badger bath right. Idiots. As if! Best way to get a sale from the punters is to sucker them in. They’re all thick anyway. Serves them right if you ask me.”
Archimedes Thunderpaws, Estate Agent at We Fuck You Cos We Can Estate Agents, Regent Street, London.
“It means nothing to me geezer. I only care about the commission, and the ladies of course. Great job to meet the ladies this, I tell them I have a Porsche, swish my tail around and give them a wink and they’re mine. It’s great.”
“Yeah. Fed up wi these suits lying all t’time. And it’s usually us honest working stiffs get t’blame. Can’t tell ya ‘ow many times av bin sent in to paint a bath white t’mek it look bigger cos some suit said it were a 4 badger tub when it were only a 3.
Like this one ‘ere, no way that’s a 4 badger tub, but they send me in and just say. ‘Just see what ya can do Big Dave’.”
“Meks me sick!”
Big Dave, Handyman contracted to We Fuck You Cos We Can Estate Agents, Regent Street, London.
“Ah mean, av got me morals right, burr av got a wife and six kittens to feed. Can’t do nowt about it. Just gotta do the work and keep me mouth shut. I ‘ope you take ‘em all down mate.”
“I am disgusted by this sequence of events. They sold me this house saying it was a five dead badger bath and it’s no more than a three! Back in the war we would have just shot scum like that and gone home for tea. Not like that these days is it? No.
And I’ve got these bunions and a twinge down my left side when I say ‘turnips’. I don’t know what the world’s coming too. What did we fight the Germans for anyway? Eh? Eh? What?”
Colonel Smoky Fluffyface III, homeowner.
“I got fleeced by those estate agents. This guy called Thunderpaws sold me this place. Told me this was a 3 dead badger bath and I can barely fit one in! I’ve got two dead polecats outside going off in the sun! What am I meant to do? And I went out with that son of a bitch. He said he had a Porsche but it turned out he only had an Escort. And now I think I’m having kittens. I have no idea what I’m going to do!”
Fifi Trixiebell McWhiskers, homeowner.
“Ai no ideas what ded badgies is, don no wot happens wif stuffins lyke dat. Where ball go? You saw it? You got fishy?”
Winky Wigglebutt, homeowner.
“I’m really pissed at those bastards. Sold me this hovel based on a five dead badger rating for the bath. Bastards lied through their teeth! It’s barely a three! Well they fucked with the wrong guy this time! I’m going down the docks tonight, round up a few friends and rain down vengeance on these shitheads. You watch. It’ll be on the news tomorrow. Nobody fucks with the Fuzzinator!”
Fuzzinator Cat A’Strophe, homeowner, nutjob.
“Whaaaa, what the hell, don’t care about no dead badgers, I fell in this thing three weeks ago and I can’t get out!
Help me dude, it’s like, trying to eat me or something! It was kinda fun at first man, but now it’s just freaky!”
Simba Lightfoot Pooper, homeowner.
If any readers have suffered themselves as a result of this gross misrepresentation of the Dead Badger Bathtub Scale, please contact our team here at the Chronicle at 07281 8177 28911 22772690.
We’d be more than happy to profit from your misery!