A white home counties roadman has a beef wiv a bruv dat's met hactual Jamaican roadmen

FIFTEEN-year-old Active J, known in his detached home as Joshua Hudson, goes hardcore roadman after being ridiculed by someone who has met the real thing.

FAM! Early dis week a bruv bangs hinto Active J on him’s way to da hastroturf at break wiv mandem crew, an’ starts dissin’ man habout bein’ a fake roadman. You wot, bruv? 

Active J sed him ‘ad better hexplain wastemanself hyper-quick, or we is in a deep beef ting, innit.

Da bruv woz hultra-posh, an’ him woz weird coz him woz learnin’ all da school stuff wiv da books, innit. Bruv woz lookin’ down on Active J an’ mandem crew, sayin’ him’s fam is from da island of Jam-maker, or summink, an’ dat is where da real roadmans is from.

Him’s sed da Jam-maker bruvs are da hauthentic roadmans, coz dem’s speak creole patois, dat’s where da hinglish roadman’s language and dialect derives from, innit. Wot? Him’s sed da proper Jam-maker roadman crews don’t hang on da hastroturf, vapin’ an’ doin’ TikToks, dem is bare hard badmen dat goes by dem’s brand muggle names.

Dat got man finkin’, coz Active J is da king of da hastroturf roadmen an’ gyaldem, den maybe Active J should try to be a hauthentic nang roadman, like da posh boy sed. Man trawled da hinternet lookin’ for hauthentic Jam-maker drip an’ scored bigtime.

So yesterday man flexed swag on da hastroturf hafter school swaggin’ a non-brand top, shorts, cap an’ sliders wiv da matchin’ Jam-maker flag on heveryfink. An’ man sed for him’s crew to now call man Badman Josh. Mandem crew woz shook, den dem’s started wiv da jokes an’ doin’ dissin’ TikToks. Badman Josh woz turbo-vexed, fam.

Da next day Miss Jackson heard habout heveryfink. Miss Jackson is hultra-peng an’ her told Badman Josh dat her fam woz from da Jam-maker island too, innit. An’ her sed Badman Josh shouldn’t try an’ be like a real Jam-maker roadman. Badman Josh should just be himself, innit, coz man is a privileged white boy wiv a massive detached crib. So man sed fank you, Miss, dat means so much.

So when man next sees da posh bruv hagain, man sed him’s doesn’t need to be a hauthentic Jam-maker roadman, Active J is keepin’ it real on da streets of him’s own country hestate.

An’ when Active J is a world-famous gangsta rapper him will wear hauthentic drip when bustin’ tunes in Jam-maker. An’ it’s too cold to be wivout a puffer jacket an’ trainers in Hingland. Da posh bruv woz wivout words, fam.

So Active J is just back from TK Maxx, swaggin’ head-to-toe in boxfresh drip, sharp as a razor, fam. An’ man is headin’ for da hastroturf wiv packs of Monster an’ hassorted fruity vapes for mandem crew. Active J is back, fam. Gassed! Gassed! Gassed!

A confused millennial tries to… prepare for the frontlines of World War Three

By Josh Gardner, who hopes the trenches have wi-fi

A DARK cloud is rolling across Europe. We may not see it lit af again in our lifetimes. 

And I’m told it’s not long before my country will need me, a listless member of the socials generation welded to his phone skilled at delivering murderously funny memes, to fight Russia.

I’m surprisingly okay at being packed off to Ukraine with a rifle. It’s a while since my last citybreak and season two of Severance isn’t gripping me. Plus it’s reassuring to know there are still jobs AI hasn’t made obsolete. You can’t deploy ChatGPT into the meat grinder!

History’s a book to me therefore closed, but All Quiet on the Western Front and 1917 paint a mixed picture of war. Though they didn’t have the moral courage to show the Nazis and Hitler so they’re barely accurate.

Close-up footage of missile strikes would be capital-C content for my Insta, and I aim to become a moustachioed influencer like that dude who wrote poems about gas. He didn’t monetise his stanzas with sponsored ads like I will.

Anyway, the frontline today is an internet-connected facility in Colchester where soldiers in gaming chairs control drones on nine-screen monitor rigs while sipping energy drinks, the stories of who will inspire younger generations.

When I confidently told my dad any war will be over by Christmas anyway, he seemed skeptical. Even when I amended it to ‘actually October, when GTA6 is released’.

‘History’s repeating itself, son,’ he said. ‘The war will drag on for years. Data rationing for even longer. You’ll become a tiny name on a massive memorial, and Military Wives will have a shit number one about you.’

He said my only hope was to object to fighting on moral grounds. I stopped him there. It was obvious that I had to become a woke objector, a role I’d been preparing for my entire life. I can find anything racist, colonialist or transphobic.

That’s me saved then. I’ll sit out this one in the munitions factory complaining that single-use bullets aren’t sustainable. They’d better have vape breaks.