Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Darp at Warp Factor 11

Old Victor had a spare hour or two so he decided to dig through the archives and uncover examples of Darp’s own dramatic and emotional expression. All the CAPITALS in the following extracts are Darp’s own doing and NOT Victor’s.

Spittle splash guards on standby.

From Darpism.com 18th September 2004:

Darp being all “Bleeding Heart Lefty” and stuff…

“I am ready to fucking kill.”

I have spent the better part of this week erecting Andrew Wilkie posters in people's front yards only to have EVERY FUCKING SINGLE ONE OF THEM ripped down sometime this evening.”

Darp feelin’ all tough and manly…

I personally racked up over fifty sites myself, most of them with multiple posters. It made me feel all tough, outdoorsy and Jamie Durie-ish in my wife-beater blue bonds singlet.”

Darp revealing his “streetwise” tactics…

Word is he isn't planning on distributing his own campaign posters as there is a major concern that they will be defaced en masse with "liar", "rodent" and Hitler moustaches.”

Darp being TOTALLY delusional and paranoid…

“What is really nefarious about this poster removal operation is the fact that it IS illegal. The local coppers have instructed me that anyone caught doing this can be detained and charged with trespassing and possibly with goods in custody. I've spent the evening reassuring and comforting (yes, Darp can be warm and comforting every now and again) a few victims of poster theft and I tells ya, if the aim of this operation was scare people and shake them up a bit, it worked like a suburban Tampa.”


Darp being TOTALLY delusional, paranoid AND disrespectful to our democratically elected leader…

All jocularity aside, this is a really low act but during a campaign such as this, it has to be expected. I'll have to stay hush-hush on our retaliatory strategy as I have it on very good authority that Honest Johnny HIMSELF has viewed this site in order to find the origin of the "I'd rather go to war" shirts. If you're reading this John, you're a cunt and I hate you and you look like Penfold from Danger Mouse.”

Darp thrashing around wildly in his girlish rage and making impotent threats…

To the Lib apparatchiks who ripped all my posters down, you have just started something that could very well fuck you over.”

Darp blurting out what WE have basically known all along but what the authorities (until now) have appeared happy to ignore…

“You've taken the campaign into Darp's area of expertise - suburban terrorism.”

MORE piss and wind from everyone’s favourite barber’s cat…

And this is just my "bark", god help you if you experience the Darp "bite".”

And from 19th September 2004. If THIS doesn’t convince you that Darp is not only severely emotionally and mentally unstable but is also an absolutely shameless LIAR (read the bit about shredding Kevlar. I am STILL laughing and clutching my sides at this one) then probably nothing will.

To be totally honest old Victor simply doesn’t know whether to pity this idiot or despise him. Either way, as far as Victor is concerned, the next quote is enough evidence by itself to have him fitted for a straightjacket and condemned to a rubber lined room…

“I was fairly angry when I posted my last entry as the showboating boxer boy pic suggests.

At present, my anger rating is probably quadruple that of last night. I’ve just spent half an hour ripping a Kevlar-lined punching bag to shreds. I only just bought the cunt and now it’s fucked, something for Marvin and Oscar (the dogs) to chew on.

Whilst going around replacing stolen posters I called by a big rental property where two Afghan refugee families reside. They’d previously given us permission to stake out a few posters in their yard which fronts onto a busy main road. Those posters went MIA along with all the others but I thought I’d check with these people first if they wanted some more up. I planted my stakes and stuck one on with a staple before heading up to the front door to say Salaam.

After the regulatory Salaam Aleykum’s the very shaken mother of one of the families told me what happened the night before.

She was awoken around midnight to the sound of rocks and other objects being pelted at her window. Loud incoherent abuse resonated around the property. She glanced briefly out the window and saw a group of five or six young men ripping the Wilkie posters out of the ground and causing a ruckus.

She moved all her kids (a very timid autistic daughter amongst them) into the back part of the house and switched off all the lights. The abuse continued for ten minutes before the mob moved on.

The story gets worse people.

Just as she was finishing up her account of the evening I hear “FUCK THE REFUGEES” and a 22-25 year-old bloke on a mountain bike rides by and rips down the Wilkie poster I was about to bolt in. I leapt off the front steps and gave chase.

By now my brain was exploding with a Maori psycho berserker rage of Jake the muss proportions. Everything under the sun from “come back here you fucking coward motherfucker piece of shit cunt I’ll have ya, I’ll fucken have ya, fucking racist cunt when I find you etc etc…” spewed from my mouth as I sprinted my arse off only to see this chicken shit prick ride off into the distance.

With blood surging in my ears and white speckles appearing at the corner of my vision, I turned and headed back to the house only to see another dweeby guy on mountain bike. He takes one look at me and shits himself. The berserker rage kicks in again with a deafening rush, convincing me that I’m bleeding out the ears and shooting laser beams from my eyes. I have no clear memory of what was said here, which means I would have been screaming incoherently with a protruding tongue. I had no hope in hell of catching him in the flesh but I hope to be a nightly fixture in his nightmares for years to come.

Two more chaps on mountain bikes emerge from a side street and I flag them down for a ‘chat’. They play all nice, sweet and innocent and claim to merely be out for a late night cycle. One of the blokes I recognised from earlier on in the day as a member of a certain political party. I’ll study our video footage of Howard’s walk through Eastwood plaza very closely before I go public with the name of the party that this guy belonged to. You know how litigious these fuckers are.

They switched from amiable to aggro and nasty when I suggested they wait here until the police arrive so they can help with a small investigation. As there were two of them and the party offsider guy had a real “thug for hire” air about him, I backed off and let them cycle away.

I returned to the house of my refugee mates to find everyone hiding in the back room with the lights off. The autistic daughter goes right manic when she is confronted by noise or aggression - she was in a very bad way.

Other members of the Wilkie campaign began arriving soon after to help calm everything down. The coppers soon followed and I must say, these two officers were a couple of top blokes. Genuinely none too pleased that racial violence like this was occurring on their turf and steadfastly determined to nail those responsible.

We agreed to keep our posters out of their yard for the time being as it obviously just isn’t safe. A few of us big tough lads offered to bunker down and stay the night as there didn’t appear to be any men in the house, just two mums and lots of very frightened kids.

As I continued about my postering work, I thought back over the times in my life when I’ve “lost it” or “snapped”. Tonight was one of those nights - definitely in the top ten for Darp spack attacks. The sickening thought that in Howard’s Australia, abominable acts of racial hatred such as the one I witnessed could happen repeatedly, one night after another – was too much for me.

I did snap and god knows what I would have done to any of those pricks if they’d been on foot. Yeah, yeah, two wrongs don’t make a right but I challenge anyone to witness the fear in the eyes of those poor kids and not feel a protective primeval urge to do something about it. As Michael Collins said, “When a man is standing on your neck, you’re allowed to break his legs.”

I would have broken eye-sockets, rib cages, kneecaps and then some, such was my rabid bloodlust. When these genetic “Incredible Hulk” rages subside I usually find myself curled up in a ball crying my eyes out, such is in the intensity of emotion and the somewhat legitimate fear that one day, I may not be able to control it.

And bawl my eyes out I did.

Everything came flooding out; the rage and futility I feel living in a country that has so much potential to make this world a better place, yet in recent times seems hell-bent on going in the opposite direction.

This mafia-like clique of power hungry men who have a shown the willingness to lie, cheat, steal, bribe and sleaze their way into a continuance of the governmental status quo. Men who will shoot, bomb and bludgeon away at the basic natural egalitarian social psyche of the Australian people. Howard’s boys have used every Machiavellian tool in the book to bring about a faux Orwellian social construct where many of us are simply not proud to be Australian anymore.

And I kept bawling.

The powerlessness of knowing that there are fellow human beings that area yadyadyyadyayayadyaaya….I’m going to stop now. I’m getting myself all worked up again and if I do that, I won’t sleep. I need a decent rest in order to get up tomorrow and continue the fight against neo-conservatism with renewed vigour. Despite my little mid-campaign spaz attack, I am far from beaten.”

Yeah! And then he woke up with a wet pillow and tennis elbow…

After reading this, if any FDB’ers still want to have a dig at old Victor for HIS emotional posts then they are quite welcome to make utter fools of themselves because their “fearless leader” out trumps everyone in the “spittle stakes”.

I mean REALLY!

“Rabid bloodlust” over a few missing posters and a couple of geeks on pushbikes?

Get treatment and get it NOW Darp or else get it once you go inside.

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