The Daily Mail Book of Fairy Tales: Red Riding Hoodie
Once upon a time there was a young hoodie who liked nothing better than to joy-ride in stolen cars with her friends and whose family was so militantly left-wing that everyone who knew her used to call her Little Red Riding Hoodie.
One day, Little Red Riding Hoodie’s unemployed single mother said to her, “Take this basket of luxury goodies I’ve bought with the massive benefits handout I’ve just received, to your grandma’s 5-bedroom council house funded by hard-working taxpayers.”
“But why can’t one of my seven half-brothers or sisters, all born to a different father, do it?” Little Red Riding Hoodie complained.
“Because they’re all out begging for me and your step-dad’s beer money, like you would be if you weren’t such an example of Britain’s lazy youth!” her mother scolded her. “Now remember, don’t talk to anybody black on the way!”
Promising not to, Little Red Riding Hoodie skipped off, the basket of taxpayer-funded luxury goodies tucked away safely under her arm next to the Stanley knife she always carried with her.
It was not long before Little Red Riding Hoodie saw some beautiful pockets on the way, which she decided to pick.
“Granny will be so happy I picked some pockets for her,” thought Little Red Riding Hoodie. “It will remind her of her village in Romania where she used to live before she came over here with the rest of the extended family to scrounge off the soft-touch British benefits system.”
What Little Red Riding Hoodie didn’t know, however, was that deep in the forest of council houses full of generations of unemployed families watching the Jeremy Kyle show on huge expensive flat-screen TVs paid for out of hard-working taxpayers’ money, there was a Big Bad Lesbian watching her.
“Where are you going, little girl?” the wicked lesbian asked. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”
“Shouldn’t you?” Little Red Riding Hoodie answered. “You’re my teacher.”
“Like all public sector workers, I get paid a huge salary for doing nothing,” the evil LGBT public sector worker said slyly.
“Well I can’t go to school today because I’m taking this basket of luxury goodies – paid for by my single mother’s massive benefits handouts – to my Romanian immigrant Grandma’s 5-bedroom taxpayer-funded council house. And I’ve picked some beautiful pockets on the way.”
“How nice,” said the militantly left-wing gay teacher, licking her lips. “But didn’t you know that Pringles and ketchup cause cancer?” she said, pointing at the basket of taxpayer-funded luxury goodies.
“I thought that was oral sex?” Little Red Riding Hoodie replied. “Anyway, I have to go now. Bye bye Ms. Lesbian.”
“Good girl, run along now,” said the depraved corrupter of young minds. “And don’t forget to attend my Gay Islamic Sex Education for Ethnic Minority Minors class next week!”
But what Little Red Hoodie didn’t know was that the debauched gay taxpayer-salaried state school employee was planning to take a short-cut to get to her Romanian immigrant Grandma’s 5-bedroom taxpayer-funded council house before her.
The blonde leggy lesbian – who looked hot in a sleeveless two-tone shift dress and strappy wedge heels – got to Little Red Riding Hoodie’s Romanian immigrant Grandmother’s taxpayer-funded mansion house long before Little Red Riding Hoodie, and she knocked on the door.
“Come in,” Little Red Riding Hoodie’s grandma said in Romanian.
“Can’t you speak English yet?” the depraved homosexual teacher replied. “You’ve been in the country long enough?”
“Why should I?” Grandma said opening the door. “The Labour-run council wastes huge amounts of council taxpayers’ money on my own personal interpreter, so I don’t need to speak English.”
But as soon as she opened the door, the big bad lazy over-paid public sector militantly left-wing state-employed union schoolteacher thug quickly bundled her up and locked her in the cupboard. The wicked lesbian then put on Grandma’s clothes and lay on her bed, waiting for Little Red Riding Hoodie to arrive.
When Little Red Riding Hoodie reached the taxpayer-funded council-owned mansion reserved exclusively for illegal immigrants, she entered and went to Grandma’s state-subsidised bedside.
“My! What big eyes you have, Grandma!” she said in surprise.
“Like all EU immigrants, I got these state-of-the-art contact lenses for free on the NHS,’” replied the lustful lesbian. “All the better to see you with!”
“My! What big ears you have, Grandma!” said Little Red Riding Hoodie.
“Huge aren’t they? I got them enlarged for free on the NHS too,” said the lesbian. “And they make it all the better to hear you with, my dear!”
“And what big teeth you have, Grandma!” said Little Red Riding Hoodie. “Did you get those for free on the NHS too?”
“Of course. All the better to eat those cancer causing, Tesco’s own-brand, Super Saver, Halal horse burgers with!” growled the lesbian, pouncing on her.
Little Red Riding Hoodie screamed and a large gang of council employed woodcutters – who were on one of their endless tea-breaks nearby – came running to the benefit-scrounging, illegal immigrant, Romanian Grandma’s state-subsidised home.
“Help me, help me, a lesbian’s trying to eat me!” Little Red Riding Hoodie pleaded.
“Can’t do that,” the lazy gang of state-employed woodcutters replied. “It would be against Gordon Brown’s union-imposed political correctness regulations gone mad.”
“So can you just tell her to leave then?” Little Red Riding Hoodie said.
“Can’t do that. Against EU imposed Human Rights legislation protecting heroin-addicted squatters who might want to take over hard-working home-owners’ hard-won property,” the under-employed council workers on obscene salaries and gold-plated pensions explained.
“So you can’t actually do anything, then?” Little Red Hoodie implored.
The representative for the woodcutting union bootboys shook his head firmly. “I’m afraid it would be against all of those out-of-control Health and Safety regulations, imposed on businesses by the last Labour government,” he said, leaning on his brand-new, hardly-used taxpayer-funded axe.
“What if I made up a story about her being a militant Muslim intent on destroying British values and all that we hold dear in this country and valiantly fought to defend in two world wars?” Little Red Riding Hoodie asked hopefully.
“Oh in that case, kill the bitch,” the British born woodcutters replied in unison and they pulled together in a perfect example of the indomitable wartime British spirit that got us through the Blitz and beat Hitler to beat the evil lesbian to within an inch of her life and rescued Little Red Riding Hood’s plucky white Romanian but Christian Grandmother from the cupboard.
“You’ve saved us from a devastating fall in house prices!” the 125-year old pensioner said, hugging her teenage granddaughter who looked ravishing in a figure-hugging red and white hooded mini-dress despite being only 13-years old.
“But Grandma, you don’t even own your own home,” Little Red Joy-Riding Hoodie said.
“Everyone will own their own home, cancer will be cured and Britain will be great again, if only we all remember to vote for David Cameron’s Conservatives at the next election,” the wise old Grandmother explained. “Or UKIP.”
“Do that, and we will all live happily ever after.”
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