Taste the Cold Fist of Remorseless Democracy: Northern Ireland Holds First Dyke Marriage

Andrew Anglin
Daily Stormer
February 13, 2020

An artist’s theory of what Northern Ireland’s first lesbian marriage looked like.

The backward and confused potato people with their stupid beliefs in religion and families will now taste the cold, hard fist of brutal and absolutist freedom and democracy as it is rammed down their throats like a broomstick.

One democracy to rule them all.

God will be killed. Churches will be replaced with office supply stores. Families will be torn asunder. Men will all be accused of rape. Your teenage sons will be targeted by homosexuals. Your entire population will be replaced with Islamic refugees. And you will be forced to watch all the Marvel and Star Wars films.

The wages of freedom is reddit

Every knee will bow and every tongue will confess human rights.


Two women tied the knot Tuesday in Northern Ireland’s first same-sex wedding, after the region became the last part of the United Kingdom to legalize gay marriage.

Care worker Robyn Peoples, 26, and waitress Sharni Edwards, 27 married at a ceremony in Carrickfergus, near Belfast. The couple said they had not intended to be the first to wed, but were thrilled to become symbols of change in Northern Ireland.

“We fought so long and hard for this opportunity to be seen as equal and now we are here and it’s just amazing,” said Robyn. She and her wife both took the married name Edwards-Peoples.

She said the significance of the negotiation was “to show that we are equal to a man and a woman. Our love is just the same, it’s no different.”

It’s exactly the same.

The only difference is that neither of them have a penis, so they have to ram plastic objects into each other’s vaginas.

They also beat each other up on a regular basis.

And also rape each other somehow. I guess with plastic objects.

They did this because you were mean to them.

But otherwise, they’re exactly the same and if you say differently you have to go to prison.

Democracy, baby: it’s what’s for dinner.

An artist’s belief about what the honeymoon looked like.