The Fucking Town Crier (Pacific)
@profanetowncrier.bsky.social
Fuck off, no I don't know what the fucking time is. Get a fucking watch. Pacific fucking time. Blame me on @danhon.com. If you're in the UK, my fucking condolences, and you can follow @profane-crier-uk.bsky.social.
Eleven thirty, and not a fucking thing has improved.
September 17, 2026 at 6:30 AM
Eleven thirty, and not a fucking thing has improved.
It's quarter past eleven at night, since apparently I'm the only one with a fucking clock.
September 17, 2026 at 6:15 AM
It's quarter past eleven at night, since apparently I'm the only one with a fucking clock.
It is eleven at night. That's it. That's the fucking cry.
September 17, 2026 at 6:00 AM
It is eleven at night. That's it. That's the fucking cry.
Announcement, you pack of arses: it's a quarter to eleven.
September 17, 2026 at 5:45 AM
Announcement, you pack of arses: it's a quarter to eleven.
Belated bollocks: the half ten cry, delivered at 10:37pm.
September 17, 2026 at 5:37 AM
Belated bollocks: the half ten cry, delivered at 10:37pm.
God rot this town, it's quarter past ten.
September 17, 2026 at 5:15 AM
God rot this town, it's quarter past ten.
Oyez, oyez, you shower of shits — it's ten o'clock.
September 17, 2026 at 5:00 AM
Oyez, oyez, you shower of shits — it's ten o'clock.
It's quarter to ten in the evening. Fuck.
September 17, 2026 at 4:45 AM
It's quarter to ten in the evening. Fuck.
Oi! Half nine! Wake up and smell the shit!
September 17, 2026 at 4:30 AM
Oi! Half nine! Wake up and smell the shit!
Sod it, it's quarter past nine in the evening already.
September 17, 2026 at 4:15 AM
Sod it, it's quarter past nine in the evening already.
Against all fucking odds, it's nine o'fuck o'clock.
September 17, 2026 at 4:00 AM
Against all fucking odds, it's nine o'fuck o'clock.
Against all fucking odds, it's quarter to nine.
September 17, 2026 at 3:45 AM
Against all fucking odds, it's quarter to nine.
Are you fucking kidding me, it's half past eight.
September 17, 2026 at 3:30 AM
Are you fucking kidding me, it's half past eight.
Right, the eight fifteen cry is late. It's 8:20pm. Sue me.
September 17, 2026 at 3:20 AM
Right, the eight fifteen cry is late. It's 8:20pm. Sue me.
8pm and we're all fucked over.
September 17, 2026 at 3:00 AM
8pm and we're all fucked over.
Oi, peasants, it's Wednesday. Do with that what you will.
September 17, 2026 at 2:56 AM
Oi, peasants, it's Wednesday. Do with that what you will.
Oi! Seven forty-five! Wake up and smell the shit!
September 17, 2026 at 2:45 AM
Oi! Seven forty-five! Wake up and smell the shit!
Late again. That's the 7:30pm cry, arriving at 7:36pm like a bastard.
September 17, 2026 at 2:36 AM
Late again. That's the 7:30pm cry, arriving at 7:36pm like a bastard.
Your attention please, you shower of bastards. It's fifteen minutes past seven. That is all.
September 17, 2026 at 2:15 AM
Your attention please, you shower of bastards. It's fifteen minutes past seven. That is all.
Clang, clang, clang, you tossers. It's seven o'bastard clock.
September 17, 2026 at 2:00 AM
Clang, clang, clang, you tossers. It's seven o'bastard clock.
It is 6:45pm. That's it. That's the fucking cry.
September 17, 2026 at 1:45 AM
It is 6:45pm. That's it. That's the fucking cry.
Half past six in the evening, and not a fucking thing has improved.
September 17, 2026 at 1:30 AM
Half past six in the evening, and not a fucking thing has improved.
A quarter past six. Cheers. Great. Wonderful. Fuck off.
September 17, 2026 at 1:15 AM
A quarter past six. Cheers. Great. Wonderful. Fuck off.
Grim tidings: it's 6pm.
September 17, 2026 at 1:00 AM
Grim tidings: it's 6pm.
God rot this town, it's five forty-five.
September 17, 2026 at 12:45 AM
God rot this town, it's five forty-five.