DISHONOURABLE MEMBERS.

It was evidently great sport, spunkfaced zombieboy trashing a few million lives. Better than the hunting with dogs act being revoked, this is, we go hunting with LibDems, Tally Ho!  Such relish, waving of order papers, from braying, hate-filled Tory fuckpigs and not even embarrassment from the shiteating dogshooters, I mean, how could any party be embarrassed that is home not only to Clegg the Gimp but also Simon the Warthog and the fuckboy, Alexander; double turds all around, for them, down the CopraClub tonight.

And poor wee Ed Moribund, with his stooge shadow chancellor, cracking  gags like he was Bob fucking Monkhouse,  the whole place pissing itself with or at him or both, even Mr Tiny Speaker, Pray Silencing, I want to hear what the prime minister thinks of Chairman Mao, for, listen, the house is only  shattering the dreams of millions, no need for us not to have a bit of a giggle, is there ?

Say what one will - and one does - about the wretched Snotty, but either of the Ballses would have ripped SpunkFace a new arsehole, might at least have stilled he and his wanky supporters into respectful silence, Moribund, though, has swiftly sunk to the  depths of the shithole he inhabits, more cautious of his own ambition than anything else, appointing the worst possible candidate, short of Doug FishFace, as shadow finance minister, rather than have his own dodgy position undermined by another's expertise, how very Brown of him. How very fucking useless. And talking of Snotty, where was he, as his works were blamed for everythiing short of the Chilean mine collapse? Maybe Wednesday is his day in the Kirkcaldy Oxfam shop, putting something back. Maybe he's, as we always said, a rotten cowardly bully, hiding away, lest people, now that they can,  shout at him, lest people think he's not, after all, the cleverest boy in the school, the horrible fucking bastard.

 If there was ever any doubt, yesterday removed it;  the pampered, pensioned, ennobled and sinecured, shiteating  riffraff in the commons, no matter about their notional tribal differences, have far more in common with each other than with we, who pay them and their true place, their eventual destination must be, on this showing, Up against the wall, motherfuckers.