Friday, 20 November 2009

PROPHET OF SNOT IN THE LAKE DISTRICT

GORDON BROWN VISITS COCKINMOUTH

I would just like to say to the house, dah-dah-dah, Mr ah Mr ah Mr ah Tiny Speaker, say to the house, Mr Tiny Speaker that, dah, the people dah, the people, Mr Tiny Speaker, dah, dah, dah, the people, Mr Tiny Speaker, of Cockinmouth owe me a very great debt of courage and heroism and bravery, the people of Cockinmouth owe me a very great and substantial debt for my courage in not going there yet and paddling around in my wellies, like, Mr Tiny Speaker, like, Mr Tiny Speaker, like, Mr Tiny Speaker, all the employees of skymadeupnewsandfilth and nearly everyone at the BB fucking C. And this is exactly why, Mr Tiny Speaker, we are in Cockinmouth in the first place, to ensure that the people of the Lake District are able to send their girls to school, not have to grow daffodils and at long last wear dry socks, something which we, in Downing Street, take for granted. It is very sad news to learn that some PC or other has made the ultimate sacrifice and I shall be scribbling to the family of constable Wotsit to let them know, Mr Tiny Speaker, how very sincere I am in my sympathy for Wotsisname who has clearly taken me as his role model, in being courageous and brave and heroic and doing the right thing for my career, I mean the country. Magnificient, courageous, professional emergency services, that's me. I need hardly mention to the house that as a young parent I, too, I too, Mr Tiny Speaker, together with my wife, Sarah-George, have lost a young child, as I mention it almost every other day, and it helps my career, even though I never, Mr Tiny Speaker, bring my family into politics and in fact never gave a fuck about having children until I became prime minister. So, Mr Tiny Speaker, if anyone has lost a child to the terrorist waters of Lake Windermere or the River Derwent let them know that I, too, have lost a child but its best to draw a line in the floodwater and move on, only mentioning the lost child when it might deflect criticism or at any other time it might prove useful; every cloud, Mr Tiny Speaker, every cloud. And I am pleased, Mr Tiny Speaker, to be able to announce to the house, to the house, to the house, to the house, Mr Tiny Speaker, that we will be bringing forward measures to make flooding illegal. It is the only thing they understand.

A pack of emergency measure will be put in place, Mr Tiny Speaker, to financially assist the people of Cockinmouth to vote Labour, only not as much financial assistance as if they were MPs, doing a very valuable job of work, Mr Tiny Speaker, and have to be able to accept bribes and fiddle the books as they go about the great task of making this land safe for the Taliban, I mean from the Taliban. And the bankers, of course.


Members will know, will know, will know, Mr Tiny Speaker that I am a son of the fucking Manse and so closer to God than most and especially the gentleman, the leader, Mr Tiny Speaker, of the party opposite, who is a useless, Godless, coke-snorting heathen bastard and has no fucking chance whatsoever of making the waters abateth themselves, much less of fooling the British people, Mr Tiny Speaker, the British people, the British people, Mr Tiny Speaker into thinking that we haven't just given their future earnings, in perpetuity, to the banks of the New World Order (prop., not, unfortunately, our old friends, Lord Tony and Mrs Imelda Blair)


And so to all those wet voters in Cockinmouth I say Hold on, I'm coming and when I come we shall part the waters, even as in days of old, verily, I say unto you, a prophet is without honour in his own land, Mr Tiny Speaker, and, indeed on the world stage, too...


(waving of order papers, shouts: Fuck off, Snotty)


....so let us all sing now, together, Psalm 137.


By the waters of Coniston, there we sat down, yea and we wept, when we remembered an election was due...




9 comments:

Sidsid said...

Another corker.
I could almost hear the idiot.

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Edgar said...

Will it become the norm, Mr Ishmael, for prospective Prime Ministers to have dead children in their back pockets? I mean, fuck the order papers, why not wave the tiny decomposing corpses?

Edgar said...

Spamming bastard nipped in front of me.

PT Barnum said...

While bridges often have weight restrictions, Cumbrian police officers apparently don't. Tis a shame and all, but Ol' Jowly's bandwagon leaping has induced in me an ennui so toxic it's misanthropic. One copper, three hundred soldiers. And the former would probably have floated without all the instruments of modern policing.

Dick the Prick said...

Cheers Mr Ish. The last fucking thing you'd want to see is that cunt if you'd been flooded - what a twat.

black hole sunset said...

There seems a good chance that the forthcoming UK election, when measured in total fraudulent votes 'cast', will go down in history as the most corrupt ever (another ignominious first for Labour).

Vote early, vote often, vote Brown.

St Paul said...

Years ago Private Eye organised an emergency wallet card instructing that, in the event of disaster the holder did not want to be a photo-opportunity prop for the Sainted Maggie.
This seem a good time to relaunch the card, declining a bedside visit and the "personal good wishes" of Snotty McDoom.

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