Failing in Folkestone

The Biffers went down to Folkestone yesterday. They thought it’d be good to make a nuisance of themselves in Kent but was that really such a bright idea? Perhaps their only achievement on the South coast this weekend was to demonstrate just how weak they really are.

Kent is the Biffer’s home territory – their ‘home county’, as they say. It’s the home of both Folding Golding and Dutchy Fransen (the Fuhrer and his deputy), not to mention Lewis and Slatter (the take-over twins).

So we might expect a pretty big turnout of Biffers on a fine Saturday in the heart of Biffer country. After all, with an online following of several squillion (none of which are sock puppets, overseas stooges or bought likes from Asian click farms, honest) we should’ve seen many hundreds of ‘activists’ blanketing this important English port with leaflets.

It is true that Folkestone on Saturday was the biggest turnout of Biffer activists by far. Never before have they had more than half a dozen or so neoNazis dishing out leaflets at any one time. Often they’ve been reduced to only one or two, skulking around in the wee small hours when all the decent people were alseep. Who could forget the hilarious video of Stevie “back-stabber” Lewis sneaking around sleepy Yorkshire housing estates like a benighted burglar?

Such astounding courage!

Such utterly pointless stupidity.

Such a novel cure for his recurrent insomnia.

BF Folkestone activists in pub

Yesterday, even including the regulars (except Dutchy, oddly enough), they only managed 20 bigots. You can see them here infesting a pub at the end of a long day’s trouble-making.

Now – is it just us or would you also have expected to see more biffers than that in their home territory?

Is it possible that there really aren’t twenty-seven million squillion ker-chillion biffers waiting to save us all from the evil invading immigrant army currently storming our coastal defences at Folkestone and Dover? Perhaps this hapless handful of comedy, would-be soldiers might be more at home somewhere like Warmington-on-sea.

“Don’t panic, Mr. Mainwaring! Don’t panic!”

Dads  army

“Stupid boy!”

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