Fox hunting thugs beat up protesters. Police do nothing.

Theresa May’s law breaking, barbaric thugs turn their bloodlust upon innocent human beings and get their cravings satisfied.

Pride's Purge

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Time to totally ban this barbaric activity once and for all.

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About Wirral In It Together

Campaigner for open government. Wants senior public servants to be honest and courageous. It IS possible!
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3 Responses to Fox hunting thugs beat up protesters. Police do nothing.

  1. Pingback: Fox hunt thugs beat up peaceful Hunt Protestors! – NDB19573: Neil's Occassional Blog: Just another truthseeker. Who wont swallow the lies! I also do parties😁

  2. Bobby 47 says:

    If it were within my power, I’d give these black hatted, riding crop waving, silk shirted, jodpur britches and red tunic wearing sadists a taste of what it’s like to be chased, pursued, cornered and torn to shreds by a pack of ravenous hounds.
    For starters, I’d take a photograph of the Master Of The Hunt, show it to each hound belonging to the pack and make sure that each member of their canine species knew exactly how to violently react if ever they ever found the owner of this particular face cowering in fear beneath a prickly mature Hawthorne Bush.
    Then, I’d drag the aforementioned Master Of The Hunt out of the shed, where I’d locked him up illegally a week before during a frightening hostage taking attack outside his family home, strip him naked and then, in full sight of the pack who’s bollocks I’d already kicked to get them agitated and howling and whining for dog vengeance, I’d take a pocket pen knife and slice open flesh that was affixed to his body in very close proximity to a bulbous vein that you just knew would bleed and bleed until treated by someone who was armed with an ability to stop bleeding and convince a pack of hounds to stop ripping away at human flesh.
    Then, after kicking his bollocks and screaming, ‘run for your life you poor bastard’, I’d give the howling barking demented pack of hounds a good sniff of the now racing quarry and after a head start of three minutes thus giving the chased and hunted a reasonable chance to build up a good head of speed, I’d let the pack loose and watch in awe as they raced across the meadows in pursuit of he who’s face they’ve been trained to hate.
    And thereafter, after the pack had cornered him, as they inevitably would as he hurtled across a recently harvested turnip field screaming, ‘God help me’, I’d bring the attack to a halt, cause the dogs to regurgitate the bits of his face I couldn’t find and in the last gulps of air he could summon up proving he was still human and very much still alive, I’d ask, ‘what do you think now. Humane or simply cruel?’.

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