THE SUNDAY COALITION, A HUNDRED DAYS OF SODOM.

LIBERAL DEMOCRATS CELEBRATE THEIR FIRST ONE HUNDRED DAYS

OF EATING TORY SHIT.  MMMM, NOT BAD, SAY MOST, HAD WORSE .

Good morning, obedient, credulous Coalition-citizens,  and as Deputy Prime Minister and Second Reforming Citizen, with my own cage and everything, I would just like to review my party's progress these last hundred days. Even though there isn't any.

 MR NICKY GIMP, MP, DEPUTY PRIME MINISTER OF THE UK.

The first thing I would like to say is that some of you have commented that during the election -  in which you decisively  chose me to direct the nation's affairs entirely as I made them up each day -   I often mentioned that mine was the New Party and the other two were parties were Old Parties, whereas now I talk about my party as it was at the turn of the nineteenth century and before. Which is it, they ask, an old party or a new party, and the answer, of course, is that it's both, or neither, depending on what we discover in Mr Osborne's Big Book of Made-Up Numbers and I am happy to set the record straight on that; it's a sign of the New politics, which you all voted for, even though we actually, in my New or Old Party didn't win any more seats, so that was clearly a resounding victory for my election strategy of being a New Party.  You know, to get less support than last time is a mark of how suitable I am to lead the LibDems back into the toilets. Where we belong. And never come out again. Which, with the prime minister's help, is what I am doing.

People say to me C'mon, Nick, you're clever, how can you claim to be progressive, y'know, when you are actually offering a figleaf  - or a spiked leather G-string - to a gang of fucked-up bullies  and spivs who are putting civilisation into reverse. And the answer to that, too, is simple, You don't have to act progressive to be progressive, Oh, I know, that's hard for people to get their mouths round, I mean heads,  but it's true, LibDems are progressive, it's just that we act like Barbarians.  But just because we act like Barbarians and do Barbarian things, that's no reason to say we are Barbarians, no, far from it; as we say in the Tory party, it's the bullshit that counts, rather than the truth. Truth is whatever Mr Murdoch lets you away with,   for example, and this is from the Sun's Big Book Of Being A Good Citizen In a Big Society (free with today's NewsOfTheWorld): Bankers and non-tax-paying FilthMerchants good, benefit claimants scum.  See? The kids have gotta learn to say it in the Free Schools Coalition Assembly, every morning, altogether children: Bankers and non-tax-paying FilthMerchants good, benefit claimants scum.  It's what I came into politics to do.

Look, it was my party, and only my party, which at the election before last fielded a copraphiliac as potential home seckatry. Now, I suggest that you can't get more progressive than that, all-night shit parties down Queen Anne's Gate.

Eating shit made me bald.

Mr Mark Oaten, MP, former LibDem home affairs spokesman promised to be tough on prostitution, whilst himself paying rentboys to defecate in his face; surely he should be in the coalition cabinet. Isn't it an outrage that men of Mark's quality are excluded from the rape of the country?

And if you want proof of my New Politics, of very different people working towards the same shitty aims, then just look at this,

just exactly the same as the Old Politics which we all despise so much. David Laws, my fellow Oxbridge millionaire-all-in-it-together  New Politician, with my other  fellow Oxbridge millionaire-all-in-it-together  New Politician, Mr Gideon Oxbone. Now, I know that ordinary obedient citizens, living out there in Cutsville, or wherever, get angry about millionaire politicians fellating Russian gangsters on yachts stolen from the Russian people  but frankly, y'know, they've just gotta get over it. It's time, I put it to you, for grown-up politics and that means, frankly, not obsessing about wrong and right. Basically, all you need to know is that whatever  we do is right and in the interests of the country. And whatever you do, in your own selfish interests, is wrong. And that's why you must be punished, It's in your own interests, You know, I can't underestimate the need for cuts enough, or overundersetimate  - You are all in this together, after all.

Look, you know,  it's one of the biggest tragedies of modern, invented history (author. mr murdoch) that Mr Laws was forced from office just because he was fiddling his housing benefit. It's not as though he was doing anything wrong, is it, a man in his position, of his standing, a former banker, it's not as though he needed the money now, is it? We, in the ToryLibDems, believe that people's sexual orientation is their own business and if to protect their privacy they have to steal from the taxpayer why that's just exactly what they should do, to the tune of  a mere forty thousand pounds; it might be  three or four years' wages to some people, eight years disability allowance, but we're scrapping that, so there's one thing less for them to worry about and they might get better and do a decent day's work, like the rest of us do.  You know,  hard working people in this country, the ones who voted decisively for the Coalition of Reform, they are heartily sick of supporting people, just because they happen to have incurable diseases or are old and have paid in their NI contributions and their taxes and all that rubbish.  Am I being crual and harsh, I ask myself, and the answer of course, is No, I most certainly am not. Sick people need a good helping kick in the face, if you ask me. But Mr Laws's case was different,  he was a millionaire,  weasely, poisonous little fag, terrified of his ghastly family's condemnation, terrified of people seeing him as  he is,  a rotten pinstripe hypocrite, furiously bent on persecuting the sick and the  wounded, people like Mr Laws need all the help we can give him. And all the money.  But this is no reason to ease-up in the war on single mothers, filthy sluts; we were elected to make it hard for them, impossible for them really, and as long as I'm Chief Gimp that's what the prime minister and his fellow public school Oxbridge millionaire-all-in-it-together New Politicians, like Lord Leon Brittan, 78, warts and all,  are going to do.

HONEST NICK GIMP AND HIS HONEST LIBDEMS ATTACK THE TORY ENEMY.

WHAT A SHOWER OF SHIT.

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FURTHER LIBDEM WIKIREADING:

YOUNGER READERS MIGHT WONDER AT MR MONGOOSE'S  AND OTHERS' REFERENCES TO THE DOGSHOOTERS; THEY ARE EXPLAINED BELOW.

JEREMY THORPE, A FORMER, OLD ETONIAN  LEADER WHO NEARLY GOT INTO BED WITH THE TORIES BUT WAS TOO BUSY BEING IN BED WITH A RENT BOY.

Homosexuality scandal

Persistent rumours about Thorpe's sexuality dogged his political career. Norman Scott, a former male model, met Thorpe in 1961 while working as a stable lad. He later claimed that he and Thorpe had a homosexual relationship between 1961 and 1963, when homosexual acts were still illegal in Britain. Scott's airing of these claims led to an inquiry within the Liberal Party in 1971, which exonerated Thorpe. Scott, however, continued to make the allegations.
In October 1975, Scott was walking on Exmoor with a Great Dane bitch (called "Rinka"), which had been lent to him by a friend for protection. Scott was confronted by Andrew "Gino" Newton, a former airline pilot, who was armed with a gun. Newton shot and killed the dog, then pointed the gun at Scott, but it apparently failed to go off. Newton was convicted of the offence in March 1976.
During his court appearance, Scott repeated his claims of a relationship with Thorpe, and alleged that Thorpe had threatened to kill him if he spoke about their affair. Scott also sold letters to the press which he claimed to be love letters from Thorpe. One of these included the memorable line "Bunnies can and will go to France", which supposedly showed Thorpe using his 'pet-name' for Scott in connection with a promise to find Scott a well-paid job in France.
The scandal forced Thorpe to resign as Liberal Party leader on 9 May 1976. He was replaced temporarily by his predecessor Jo Grimond and then permanently by David Steel.
Andrew Newton was released from prison in April 1977, and then revived the scandal by claiming that he had been hired to kill Norman Scott. On 4 August 1978, Thorpe was accused along with David Holmes (deputy Treasurer of the Liberal Party), George Deakin (a night club owner) and businessman John Le Mesurier (not the actor or the athletics coach) of conspiracy to murder. Thorpe was also separately accused of inciting Holmes to murder Scott.
The trial was scheduled to take place a week before the general election of 1979, but Thorpe obtained a fortnight's delay to fight the election. However, the scandal had become too much, and Thorpe was defeated.

Trial

Thorpe was put on trial at Number One Court at the Old Bailey on 8 May 1979, a week after losing his seat. He was charged with attempted murder and conspiracy to murder. One of the chief prosecution witnesses was former Liberal MP and failed businessman Peter Bessell, who claimed to have been present while the murder plot was discussed within the Liberal Party. According to Bessell, poison had been rejected as a method of killing Scott because "it would raise too many questions if he fell dead off a barstool." One alleged plan had been to shoot Scott in Cornwall and dispose of the body down a disused tin mine.^[1]
Bessell agreed to appear as a witness in exchange for immunity from prosecution. His credibility was damaged, however, because he had sold his story to The Sunday Telegraph for a fee that would double from £25,000 to £50,000 if the prosecution was successful. Thorpe did not testify in the case, but his counsel, led by George Carman QC, argued that although he and Scott had been friends, there had been no sexual relationship. Carman claimed that Scott had sought to blackmail Thorpe, and that although Thorpe and his friends had discussed "frightening" Scott into silence, they had never conspired to kill him.
Summing up the case, Mr Justice Cantley was widely criticised for showing a nakedly pro-establishment bias,^[2] in which he described Scott as "a crook, an accomplished liar... a fraud." In spite of the Judge's direction, the jury were at first split 6-6, but, after 15 hours of deliberation, they finally reached a verdict of Not Guilty. The four defendants were all acquitted on 22 June 1979.

YOUNGER READERS MIGHT WONDER AT THE APPELLATION
STRAIGHT SIMON HUGHES.

When, in 1983, Simon, one of those political barrister types - half the house of Reptiles, maybe more, rotten, thieving bastards,  claim to be  lawyers  -  himself gay, stood against an openly gay Peter Tatchell, then Labour candidate for Bermondsey. Simon's winning campaign literature insisted that he was the Straight Choice; all coy, Simon has always maintained he didn't know the implication, and if there was one it was, naturally,  someone else's fault. Outed by The Sun in 2006, having only days earlier, in other 'papers,  strenuously denied being gay, Hughes at long last offered Tatchell a mealy-mouthed apology blaming others, impicitly for the ghastly, repulsive  hypocrisy which so typifies LibDem politicians, which, indeed, seems a prerequisite for selection. Interestingly,  Hughes, in a lawyerly ruse, claimed that since he was actually bi-sexual, the censuring of him in the Tatchell case - for a gay bashing another gay - was inaccurate and therefore invalid  The man, like so many in his ragbag of fainthearts and phonies, is an utter cunt.

***** see next post for videoclip*****
Here, addressing thousands of muslims,  potential voters, he displays some of his more mature hypocrisy.
The usual blood pressure warnings apply.





DISCLAIMER.

Ishmaelites believe that it is undesireable and impractical to police consensual sexual activity between adults  and that where disclosure serves no public good it should not occur; if people wish, for instance,  to abrade their genitals with sandpaper that should be  their own affair.  The matter of proselytizing is more difficult; if older people approach young persons,  offering them free Black and Decker equipment and invitations to balls-sanding parties we feel that this should, at the very least, be discouraged.  Should committed genital abraders, however, enter parliament and then denounce and urge the criminalisation of such DIY- orientated sexual behaviour among others  they should be kicked up and down CyberStreet, without let or hindrance by law enforcement.

Some, it is reported, who swim in this sexual stream, feel compelled to nail each other's foreskins to a work bench and despite what Mr Justice Filth had to say on the matter, we maintain that even this behaviour should not be criminalised; if, however, the cocknailers or dickstaplers, call them what you will, seek to outlaw the  incomparably less exotic pecadillo of masturbation, then they should be promptly marched into the same corner as Mr Oaten and Mr Laws and Mr Hughes and Mr Clegg belong in and duly shat upon by all so inclined.  The lawmakers really must be as pure as Caesar's wife and when they fall short, as they increasingly do, especially so in this shabby coalition farce, then we must pick up any stick which is to hand and beat them with it.  The LibDems and their previous incarnations are peculiarly, exceptionally, not only personally extravagantly amoral, promiscuous and degenerate to the point of murder but they ooze their filth into the body politic;  they would tie us all up, beat us and fuck us. And that's what they are doing.
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There are those who really do believe all this deficit stuff, really believe that others must suffer cuts in income, cuts in services, cuts in entitlements, unemployment, repossession, really do believe that so great were Gordom Snot's crimes that we must all or at least some of us, but  others,  be punished by the wholesale, punitive destruction  of  our rights, believe that greedybastard speculators and pinstripe gangsters may dictate and curtail our expectation to suit their greedy whim; believe that in exchange for binning ID cards we should rejoice at the further theft of pensions, services, jobs and homes, who believe that the old, the sick, the weak and the voiceless can withstand this, as though they were bushes, ready to spring back, after a good Coalition pruning, its  vengeful shears honed by resentment at being found-out, in the now-forgotten expenses fraud jamboree .  There are those,  still, who believe that the Earth is flat.