IT WORKERS, THEY'RE THE NEW PAEDOPHILES, TRAINING STAFF, TOO;
ANYONE, REALLY, WHO WE WANT TO SACK, THEY'RE SCUM.
(TORY AND SHIT-EATER CHEERS, HEAR-HEAR!)
Quite how this smirking narcissistic moron gets away with it is a mystery; Gordon Snot is long gone, now, and the fact that CallHimDave is not CalHimLunatic should have lost its, to some, welcome novelty, yet none, so far, rebuke his downright vicious preaching of a new, a ToryLib, Employment Apartheid.
Today, to massive cheers, Bullingdon Boy attacked IT workers and other non-frontline employees of the Greater Manchester Police Service and, by inescapable implication, anywhere else in the public sector, How very dare they be IT workers, was today's salvo in his contemptible war on ordinary people, doing ordinary jobs, for ordinary wages. I have a list, he said, echoing the revolting Peter Lilley, look, there's administrators, and training people, and mechanics, even - hoots of ToryLib WorkerHate - mechanics, to look after the police cars, Well, I ask you, all this happened under the lot opposite. Fucking moron, of course there are staff, of course there are IT people, the cops are ITd up to their helmets, their cars are ITd, their helicopters are ITd, simply cannot run a police service without IT and IT workers; why are they such a source of amusement and irritation to this govament of redneck shit-eating millionaires?
It is cheap, shabby, gutter politics from an expert at bullying and shouldering his way through life. ; hatred and bile, notably from Georgie Spunkface, fuel these wretched compromises in cruelty, the Bullingdon Boys trashing the lives of the poor, just because they can, or they think they can. But it won't work, this is not the 'eighties, IT workers are not Red Robbo or Arthur CombOver; sacking people because of a global recession whilst forcefeeding bonuses to the rich perpetrators of same lacks even Whisky Maggie's dubious legitimacy. The govament is fraudulent from top to bottom, seething, also, with resentments, Oliver Letwin put in charge of paperclips that the bumptious, decadent, revolting Huhne may stand at the Despatch Box, pompous and ridiculous, gibbering unfeasable eco-remedies and the risible Highlands Milk Monitor, Danny Stupid Alexander, can sit stuttering, counting on his fingers, the ginger imbecile. But as we have seen with the Vanity Corps, with the history lessons, with the front bench, this prat Cameron is maladroit to the point of idiocy, few, outside the redneck shiteaters, will laugh at his performance today and public sector workers, their families and friends up and down the land will have seen what this piece of shit really thinks of working people, what he has always thought of them.
He's not elected to anything save his own millionaires seat, Clarksonville, full of greedy, braying fuckwits, much like himself; much of his own party detests him, academe must laugh its socks off at him; the Filth-O-Graph loathes him, even Mr Tiny Speaker is pissed off with all his pathetic party-opposite-said bollocks and increasingly, bluster as he may, ponce about vainly as he may, posing, like Man at C&A, ordinary people will recoil from the oily sight and sound of him and his horsefaced bint, the fucking arsehole. Soon, as his vile NewApartheid starts gnawing at people's legs, his loyal constituency will be limited to Straight Simon Hughes and the ShitEaters, the bankers and a few jumped-up shopkepers, like wotsisname, that insufferable, gobby prat from M&S. Oh, and of course, the furiously angry but short-sighted masturbators over at the PizzaHouseOfBlood. Jesus, what a poxy crew, septic and maggot-ridden, vile and unseemly, writhing in rancidness, it must crash and burn. And the sooner the fucking better.