Cecil Parkinson was one of Whisky Maggie's spiv bumboys, a useless, contemptible, oily bastard, a member of the organised crime fraternity which is merchant banking, a bully, a panderer, a cowardly, braying, pinstripe shitbag.
We have mentioned before that Cecil set the thugs at MI5 on his abandoned mistress and child, Sara and Flora Keays, and they were only repelled by Sara's Dad, a former army officer. So awful, so illegal was Cecil's bullying of mother and child that even Thatcher - the notorious racist and Pinochet lover - could not keep him in govament and he drifted away for a while, although not towards any paternal responsibility. Old, now and hopeful of the nation's amnesia, the disgraceful bastard pops up, now, like Jacqui Schmidt, on, well, anything that'll have him.
This evening he was in concert with the despicable and wholly incompetent overdressed dwarf, Lord Mr Sir David Steel, the odious litte creep who, with political giants like Shirley Williams and David Owen, split the left and gave us, what, over thirty years of insane Brown-Blatcherism, his feeble antics - go back tae yer con-stit-you-encies and prepare for govament - the stuff of satire and ridicule, one of the longest standing political jokes in British history, David Steel. For his catastrophic mishandling of the Scottish paliament building project - it went ten times over budget - Steel, in a decent society, would be in Barlinnie prison, instead, like determinedly floating turds, the likes of he and Parkinson can ever find a berth and a few quid at the BBC, unflushable, non-degradeable, turding about until they fuck off and die.
Cecil was on fine, shit-mouthed, cack-handed, dunderhead, self-revealing form tonight. Anyone who wants to know why people hate those Tories so much should just listen to him. This year, he opined, was just headline-grabbing, the real test of the govament's nerve would come next year, next year would be a year of attrition.
1. A rubbing away or wearing down by friction.
2. A gradual diminution in number or strength because of constant stress.
3. A gradual, natural reduction in membership or personnel, as through retirement, resignation, or death
Attrition is what he tried with Sara, of course, and his disabled daughter - how many times must we tell these ageing Casanovas that their manky old sperm should stay in a condom? - and now he feels that the right remedy for the country's ills is not properly taxing the super rich, regulating their banks, abandoning stupid unwinnable wars, making the politicians work for a living and paying them an average wage, no, attrition, that's the thing, war on the people.
This, below, by Angela Levin, is from the Daily Mail, a couple of years back, lest we forget.