THEY'RE ALL IN THE LAST CHANCE SALOON,
WHAT THE TORIES NEED, NOW, BALDY,
SORRY, ANDREW,
SORRY, ANDREW,
IS HONEST MEN AND WOMEN,
WHO WILL TELL IT LIKE IT IS.
DAVID MELLOR, LOVELY TO HAVE YOU WITH US.
A JOY.
CUNT!
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The chronicles of Ruin, continued. Call me Ishmael said....intelligence is knowing what to do when you don't know what to do. Anonymous said... When I don't know what to do,I come here. 10 September 2009 22:59
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7 comments:
A laugh,a Chelsea shirt and a hard on.
Those good old Conservative days.
Yes and Spanker Jonathan, wotsisname,Aitken, Sword of Truth merchant. Neil and Christine Biscuit, EggyWoman, Edwina; Mohamed al Fayed. All seems small beer, now.
Lord Archer and the fragrant Mary.
Cecil Parkinson and the dumped disabled daughter. Are we really going back to these blighters?
Wow, pinstripe Cecil, had forgotten about him what a pieceashit, him and Maggie got MI5 on the case didn't they, to try and shut the mother Keays up.
I don't know if we're going back to them and I kinda doubt it. I think Laboour's vote will be stronger than that of this gang of BlairLites and that many will desert all three parties and go independent. If you didn't see the wretch, Mellor, last night he is worth searching for, a trip down Memory's nightmare lane.
Sorry, Mr Ishmael, I cannot watch This Week anymore. It makes me feel ill just looking at those two fuckers on the sofa. Bastard Portillo smug as only a smug twat can be. Great British Train Journeys? Arsehole. And her? My God, hanging is too good for the pair of them.
He also has remarkably narrow and oddly-shaped shoulders. Inbred mutant I suspect.
I steel myself to do it for you all, mr mongoose; it is utterly, utterly vile and I suspect an agenda far more subtle than is on the surface, something to do with what we call the dumbing down of everything, they all queue up to do pantomime, don't they, Letts, Liddell, Mardell, more I can't think of just now, so-called serious journalists acting as though they were Kenneth Williams or Sid James, merrily playing the Fool as the country goes down the toilet and that unspeakable wretch Neil - how did he get such a monopoly on political commentary - debases everything to some bizarre, nudge-nudge, wink-wink, aren't I cheeky, lame, pseudo satirical revue, what an utter cunt. Still any luck and he'll be dead soon, croaked on top of some teenager, the horrible fucking bastard.
Mellor, though, was a treat to see, conceit, arrogance and narcissism made flesh, sneering and snarling, lip curled in contempt for Diane Lard, a perfect memento of Thatcherism's ugly depradations. Yeah, I know, defeated the unions, sorted out the economy, that'll be why everything's fucked, that wicked old crow the midwife of Ruin. Let us see how devout the Maggie-worshippers remain as energy prices start to multiply - or as we now say, increase exponentially - due to her spiv friends not investing, save for in themselves. Funny how everything so grandiosely privatised is fucked - energy, rail, Telecom; fucking rubbish, Thatcher. Not quite as rotten a human being as are Blair,Brown and the EuroCocksucker but there's only a neck in it.
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