The Wirral is a peninsular situated in the county of Merseyside, England.
People from the Wirral are labelled as Jedis, Wools, or Plazzy Scousers, by those who live in Liverpool. This is mainly down to a heavily inspired Scouse culture on the west side on the peninsular, Though some settlements milk it more than others.
It's major settlements from most to least "Scouse Influenced" are:
-Birkenhead.
Once Labelled as a "Model Town", Birkenhead is now known as a town that shouldn't exist. It is dirty, depressing, and down right ugly. A post industrial disaster. The people here like to think themselves as Scouse, yet do not share the community that Liverpool possesses. Birkenheaders are nasty little scumbags, who need to be sent on a boat to across the Mersey straight to the town of St Helen's where they belong.
-Woodchurch.
Town of Smackheads. The only redemption here is if they overdose off their smack then there's less of them about causing mayhem. They have an Asda and Weird terraced streets that look slightly American.
-Seacombe.
Just like Birkenhead, except you have a higher percentage of your socks being robbed off your washing line.
(Rock Ferry and Wallasey have a plazzy Scouse problem too)
Anywhere else on the Wirral is fine and represent much of it's former and ceremonial county, Cheshire. I hope this post has helped you to understand which places to avoid when entering this ancient peninsular.
People from the Wirral are labelled as Jedis, Wools, or Plazzy Scousers, by those who live in Liverpool. This is mainly down to a heavily inspired Scouse culture on the west side on the peninsular, Though some settlements milk it more than others.
It's major settlements from most to least "Scouse Influenced" are:
-Birkenhead.
Once Labelled as a "Model Town", Birkenhead is now known as a town that shouldn't exist. It is dirty, depressing, and down right ugly. A post industrial disaster. The people here like to think themselves as Scouse, yet do not share the community that Liverpool possesses. Birkenheaders are nasty little scumbags, who need to be sent on a boat to across the Mersey straight to the town of St Helen's where they belong.
-Woodchurch.
Town of Smackheads. The only redemption here is if they overdose off their smack then there's less of them about causing mayhem. They have an Asda and Weird terraced streets that look slightly American.
-Seacombe.
Just like Birkenhead, except you have a higher percentage of your socks being robbed off your washing line.
(Rock Ferry and Wallasey have a plazzy Scouse problem too)
Anywhere else on the Wirral is fine and represent much of it's former and ceremonial county, Cheshire. I hope this post has helped you to understand which places to avoid when entering this ancient peninsular.
The Wirral's Scouse Problem, defined as:
Birkenheader: "Yes lad, am a true Scouser from Birkenhead."
Liverpudlian: "Asif lad, ye a little Jedi."
Wirralian: "Sorry about him mate, he gives us normal Wirral folk a bad name."
Scouser: "Shut up Ye Wool."
Birkenheader: "Yes lad, am a true Scouser from Birkenhead."
Liverpudlian: "Asif lad, ye a little Jedi."
Wirralian: "Sorry about him mate, he gives us normal Wirral folk a bad name."
Scouser: "Shut up Ye Wool."
by Humble Englishman May 17, 2023
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by Jesus Christ
Davian Witjaksono had always loved cosy Heaven with its bewildered butterflies. It was a place where he felt happy.
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by Jesus Christ
Davian Witjaksono had always loved cosy Heaven with its bewildered butterflies. It was a place where he felt happy.
He was a holy cocoa drinker with beautiful tail and cute whiskers. His friends saw him as a homeless human. Once, he had even rescued a careful Fabian Witjaksono from a burning building. That's the sort of man he was.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Jesus Christ.
Davian gulped. He was not prepared for Jesus.
As Davian stepped outside and Jesus came closer, he could see the strange glint in his eye.
"Look Davian," growled Jesus, with a holy glare that reminded Davian of holy blue bunny. "It's not that I don't love you, but I want believe in Jesus Christ. You owe me 9497 dollars."
Davian looked back, even more Panji and still fingering the holy sausage. "Jesus, sorry Jesus, I love my family," he replied.
They looked at each other with delighted feelings, like two talented big-tits bunnies singing at a very holy Birthday and two holy uncles beating to the meat.
Davian regarded Jesus's tail and whiskers. "I don't have the funds ..." he lied.
Jesus glared. "Do you want me to shove that holy sausage where the sun don't shine?"
Davian promptly remembered his holy values. "Actually, I do have the funds," he admitted. He reached into his ass. "Here's what I owe you."
Jesus looked wet, his wallet blushing like a tender teapot.
Then Jesus came inside for a nice mug of cocoa.
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