Bob is on the front-line in the keyboard war against common decency. Armed with a fierce arsenal of racist, sexist and homophobic views, he bravely jumps into the fray and fires poorly worded bullets at people he has never met. He invades Facebook pages and News forums with a fierce offensive of agro-bogan vitriol to overthrow the reasoned views of “leftie retards”. Like any true Keyboard Warrior, when the pen yields to the might of the sword, he will farkin’ fight ya, cunt.
Bob was recently fired from his job after a concerned member of the public reported to his employer that he was posting bacon-themed hate memes on Islamic Facebook pages. “Fuck that shit for a joke, I’m taking yous to Fair Work Australia”. While Bob waits for his day in Court, he finds himself with an excess of free time. He dons the body armour of obnoxiousness and starts canvassing Perthnow articles for potential targets. Target acquired: a little article about the ongoing Uber v. Taxi war.
His first comment is so distasteful that it makes an O.J & Toothpaste flavoured condom seem like a delightful treat. “Ha Ha ttaxi drivers are all bunch of ethnics, whys I want a lift from stinky ISIS goat fuckers?” Predictably, he comes under fire and is battling the voice of reason on all fronts. Matt, another commenter responds, “Maybe taxis would frequent nightspots more if it wasn’t for racist arseholes like you”. Bob is so enraged at the sheer audacity of this “leftard” and decides to go mano a mano, “FUCK YOUs CUNT, why don’t use act like a real patriot and stop siking up for the Islams!!! FILTH”. His last message was hammered out like a masturbating Orangutan on a Fisher Price baby toy.
While Bob waits for Matt’s response, he angrily trawls the seas of Facebook in a desperate search to blow civilised opinions out of the water. He stumbles across a post regarding victim blaming in the wake of attacks against women. The red mist comes over his eyes, and he instantly attacks a female commenter for stating “a woman shouldn’t be told to avoid parks at night”. He locks and loads his misogynistic Glock and fires, “farken stick a tampon up ya, femmos are never satisfeid ar they”. To Bob’s confusion, the first person to enter Mortal Cuntbat with him is a bloke named Steven, “save the oxygen for someone who needs it, Bob”.
Reasoned debate is not Bob’s strong suit, so he decides to detonate a keyboard weapon of mass destruction: he posts a photo of Steven he pulled from his profile. “Yeh im gon na tkae shit from cunt a that looks liek this!! fuck off ya maggot”. Bob is talking tougher than a Nokia 3310 wrapped in an overcooked minute steak. Steven replies, “lol, get an education mate”. Bob is so angry that he decides to pull the pin from a decorum grenade and blow Steven to hell, “yeh? yeh? Where do u live ya dog, I’ll fucking fight yas, Ill make ya piss”.
Of course, Bob has no intention of meeting anybody he hassles in real life. He has sworn a sacred oath to the gods of internet staunchness, and without his keyboard, he is just another bucktoothed Centrelink monkey waiting for his fish fingers to cook in a dilapidated dwelling just off Anketell Road.
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?