Well furst off I get asked to write stuff all the time by the media, dozens off phone calls nearly every week by the likes of the New York Times and the Rolling Stones but as youse know I’ve me hands full dealing with the enemies of Ulster here in Ulster without the Yanks wasting my time to. Having said that its about time LAD invited me til do a guest blog cos it seems every yellow bellied Lundy this side of Donaghadee has been doing one off late.
Belfast Telegraph,  17 August 2014
The GAA has been getting a lot of publicitty this week what with this Eastenders thing and its time us Protestants got our side aff the story over before our own childer are forced to play hurley like I was back in the day. I have seen the GAA inside and out and I can tell youse now it as dangerous a threat to Protestants as it ever was and youse can ask the two corporals who was murdoured by the Provies in Casement Park if youse don’t believe what I’m about to tell youse about the time a few years back, me and the wife got lost in durty Dublin and ended up on the pitch with a bunch of yahoos from every hole in the hedge this side of Portadown. Now fair enough Armagh bate Kerry fair and square that day and right enough Sam Maguire was some kind of Protestant but how is it the likes of Slab Murphy is aloud to wander around Croke Park carrying a bazooka, I ask youse. Wullie, you wee black and ginger bastard, he says. Come here til I kiss you, this is the best day of my life, better even than the day we got your da. I wudn’t kiss Slab Murphy for a tanker load of poteen I can tell you. I ripped up my season ticket there and then and I haven’t set foot in the Croker since, apart from the time Loughgiel won the hurling but that’s another story.
Kingsmill has to be won of the worse things the Provies ever done certainly round these parts it must be said, so its about time the victims got there chance in court and I can only take most aff the credit, theres a few others whose helped out two. What this survival fella Alan Black is after saying about security force collusion is a load of dog durt, I can reasshoor youse this here and now. There was no security force collusion or else the job wud have been done good and proper and every papist from here to the bogside wud be six foot under. I know where this nonsense about Captain Nairac came from for wasn’t it only me who fed it til the HET after being duped by the Provies?

News Letter,  22 August 2010
I was down one day, a brave few years back it wud of been, helping the wife to get her toes nails clipped when we stopped aff in Culloville to fill up the Saracen. And who should be over working the pumps for the summer but your man Jamie Carragher and a big Champions League medal round his neck, the only medal he ever won two. I was shooting the breeze with him about the whole football thing while the wife went in til buy some vodka. The next thing yon hallion McConville and a rake of boys pulled up in a souped up tractor and started giving young Jamie dog abuse. Take your foreign games back over the water, you turncoat. We’ve more medals than you, Up the Provies and the like. First aff I thought they were shouting at me for right enough I only ever won the won medal with Whitecross. Then yer man Carragher bust out crying like a big scouse baby and I caught on them ignorant hoors were totally blanking me for til shout at this nobody. Next thing Jamie begs me and the wife to give him a lift up to George Best international. I thought he was only going up to pay his respects to our Geordie but it turns out he wanted to get out of this God sorefuken country once and for all, before his cousins forced him in til driving tankers.
Jamie Carragher, pictured in Culloville
Well hop in I says, this is no place for an Englishman even one with contminanated rebel blood. We cracked open the vodka on the way up to the bus station in Newry and the conversation gets round til the disappeered. Next thing yer man Jamie just opens up til me and says Wille, I know your a good man and a true Ulster loyalist, so hear’s my tail. One of the dissapeered a smelly tinker called they call the captain whose an Englishman like myself, is alive and well and living up in my uncles barn where he’s washing diesel and mixing explosives round the clock. This boy went to some posh school over the water and he’s always mocking me about my silly winey accent. Another thing Willie, he’s forever bragging about the time he stiffed ten Prods at Kingsmill just to prove his loyalty to the jesuit cause. I was going to ask Jamie more about this but then the wife drove over a motorbike in the bus station carpark so we’d to get shot of Jamie right and quick before someone writ down our license plate. I never seen him again apart from when he was playing for Liverpool on the TV but I’m convinced his story is a load of IRA properganda, which is why I told it to the HET and then the News Letter. It’s a quare strange world we live in I can tell you, and theres no one who get its quarer than us victims, which is why I’m accepting checks on their behalf.

Good night, god bless and Quis Seperabit.

Wm Frazer.