TV Licensing Agency
By Rabid Dog

My fat fingers are shaking like a heroin addict after his last hit!, but unlike the fucking junkies, my fingers are shaking with rage as I type!

Who's upset the "Dog" this time eh!? I'll tell you who!! The bastard cunting TV Licensing Agency that’s who! Let me set the scene, I’m sat at home minding my own business, got some tasty chicken dippers and spicy wings roasting away in the oven, I’m having nice game of PES 2009 with some twat online, I’m winning! The Mrs is working late and footy is on the tele in about an hour. Life is good... UNTIL.

Knockaty fucking knock on the front door..... I open up and am immediately greeted with some kind of ID card blasted in my face. The "dog" is worried that the old bill are about to raid my house for dead prostitutes or some shit? on a side note, "They'd be better off going to a lad in works house for that kind of shit. He's killed once.... he'll do it again!" Anyway It turns out its 2 CUNTS from TV Licensing. They ask if I’m Mr. RabidDog.... I say say yes, they immediately read out some kind of police caution and told the bloke behind him will record everything I say..... Fucking good Im thinking, I hope he likes the word "Cunt" and can spell it correctly.

They then bang on about how I've bought a new tele at John Lewis's dept store sometime in October and how I haven't got a TV License! Im immediately enraged, 1 at being disturbed by these mongs and 2 that my "ball and chain" has actually got a TV License and pays the Fat Greedy bastards at BBC £139 a year to watch repeats of dads fucking army and some twats "Stricly come dancing" bollocks! I blast them telling them to fuck off etc, I ask them does this fucking address have a TV license registered to it?? they say YES! I say What the fuck are you doing on my door step then!!! After a few moments of heated discussion and me foaming at the mouth in a furious rage.... the men decide it's best to fuck off before I explode.

Im livid.... not as livid as the next day when they send me a fucking letter telling me I haven't got a TV License in "my name". To cut it short, I rang the thick bastards, got through to some chap called Andrew, he threatened to hang up if I swore again, I told him if he hangs up "I'll drive to Bristol right now and wait outside his fucking building and will start punching anyone that exits the building that remotely looks like an Andrew and I'll gladly spend a few months inside HMS Strangways for the pleasure of delivering some "shock and Awe" on the BBC" that is of course unless he lets me finish my rant... In fairness he lets me finish and then agrees with me 100% that they are inept twats. I was assured no more people will come to my door and no more letters will arrive. Im still raging about it now 2 days later for no good reason!! So what you gonna do about it!!!! Fuck all as I thought.

Now Fuck off and die along with them Cunts at the BBC.... the only country on the bastard planet where you need a "License" to watch some fucking Tele. What a bastard Joke!!


fuck you.

R. Dog!!