Now look, lessbeclear, lessbeabsolutely clear; the deal I wanna negotiate for Britain can only be reached at five o'clock in the morning when everybody, most of them older people, not very fit, and many having had, quite proply in my view, a jolly good dinner and a few EuroFree cognacs, to which, in my view, they are all quite proply entilted; people being tired or pissed or both, in the early hours of the morning, with language barriers and, lets face it often pure hatreds between them, these are the ideal circumstances in which to negotiate the future of the country.
Well, no, Jon, we wouldn't let a lorry driver....... yes, yes, we wouldn't let any sort of driver work under such conditions, but the future of the country is far more important than a load of toilet rolls or whatever, and that, quite clearly in my view, is why it must be decided when negotiators are at their most tired, weakest, most confused and most likely to get it wrong. This is only what people would expect of me. Look, as I said earlier, gimme the job and I'll break the tools.
Training? In up-all-nightness? Yes, of course I have. Eton and Oxford. Have you never heard that the battles of the British empire were fought and won in the bondage parlours and cocaine dens of the hugely gifted and talented Bullingdon Club?
And anyway, Jon, look, I simply don't ever feel tired at five in the morning, having been up all night, flown around Europe, with nothing, lessbeclear, absolutely nothing to keep me awake.
Prime minsiter, I'm grateful to you for talking to me.
I'm so grateful I could eat my own shit.
And anyway, Jon, look, I simply don't ever feel tired at five in the morning, having been up all night, flown around Europe, with nothing, lessbeclear, absolutely nothing to keep me awake.
I'm so grateful I could eat my own shit.
But actually, do you know what, even if all the negotiators are fucked out of their brains at dawn and only desperate to get into bed with a young companion, it doesn't matter. It just doesn't matter. The referendum is what we call in the lying trade cosmetic, just to say we've had one, and send Mr Poundland packing. Nothing will, change, not even if everybody in the country votes to leave. That's not what it's about. It's like that ishmael bloke's always saying: there's no business like showbusiness.
Look, lessbeundernodoubt, is it doubt? Misdoubt? Misconception? That's it. Lessbeundernomisconception. No? Misapprehension? Make your fucking mind up, will you? And anyway, my not being able to speak proper English didn't stop my parents purchasing a triple first for me. Was it triple first? Triple quadruple? Fucked if I know. I was away for mental arithmetic. It was a big good, though, my degree. So, lessbeclear, the people who matter in Europe don't want us to leave,
the people who matter in Britain don't want us to leave, so, at the end of the day, or even in the middle of the night, we won't leave.
Look, lessbeundernodoubt, is it doubt? Misdoubt? Misconception? That's it. Lessbeundernomisconception. No? Misapprehension? Make your fucking mind up, will you? And anyway, my not being able to speak proper English didn't stop my parents purchasing a triple first for me. Was it triple first? Triple quadruple? Fucked if I know. I was away for mental arithmetic. It was a big good, though, my degree. So, lessbeclear, the people who matter in Europe don't want us to leave,
the people who matter in Britain don't want us to leave, so, at the end of the day, or even in the middle of the night, we won't leave.
I do so wish that people would wach auf und riech den Kaffee.
And I simply say to the people of Britain:
Einz, zwei, drei,
Deutschland, Deutschland uber alles......
No? Is it,
Oh, Freunde, nicht dieser tone?
No?
How about, Mademoiselle from Armetiers, parlez-vous?
No?
Well, lessbeclear, it's definitely not
Keep the home fires burning,
that's for sure.
HamFace, up all night, leaning on the window sill;
Christ, he's bad enough on a full night's sleep.
The thought of him, half-pissed at five in the morning, stuttering in his schoolby French,
it makes the mind boggle, and turn purple.
And I simply say to the people of Britain:
Deutschland, Deutschland uber alles......
No? Is it,
Oh, Freunde, nicht dieser tone?
No?
How about, Mademoiselle from Armetiers, parlez-vous?
No?
Well, lessbeclear, it's definitely not
Keep the home fires burning,
that's for sure.
HamFace, up all night, leaning on the window sill;
Christ, he's bad enough on a full night's sleep.
The thought of him, half-pissed at five in the morning, stuttering in his schoolby French,
it makes the mind boggle, and turn purple.
51 comments:
Yes! I think you have the measure of it Mr I. Mr Cameron has asked for nothing and in return will be granted nothing. All of this shit is theatre - show business! However, as a good PR man, I am sure he will perform the miracle of turning 'nothing' into 'something' and return from Brussels (pity its not Munich) waving a piece of paper. The whole, 'in-out', 'shake (should that be 'sheikh'?) it all about' business is, in reality, academic given that the EU will, like as not, prove to be the proverbial 'Hotel California'. One thing I slightly beg to differ on - I think a 'deal' constructed in the context of sleep deprivation and inebriation is surely likely to be less harmful than were the participants sharp and sober...
What irritates me so much is the mythologising of effort, that this clown is even prepared to stay up late, while we are in bed, as though he was our Daddy. What a cunt, and MediaMinster talking it all up, as though it was real. I have started, for the first time in my life, to suffer from sparkly migraine. I blame all this bollocks.
It is only a panto, Mr I. Give it not another thought. Theya re probably binge watching the Sopranos.
Seek the silence and the darkness, Mr I. Being an untravelled man, I am going on a plane tomorrow for the first time since the onset of Special Terror Measures. I'm only hopping over to Dublin but, fucking hell, the amount of stuff you're not allowed to take; it's a wonder they leave you with your trousers. It confirms me in my view that we should stay put wherever possible and keep the revolution local.
If only the Great Negotiator would bide in his home a while.
Bon Voyage Mr BB! By the way, I must warn you that the 'Pale' has been under the dominion of the Papists for some years now. Therefore it would be wise to seek some protection from a Patron Saint:
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=0Fu67X5kA5g
I believe he affords it on a non-discriminatory basis (whether this extends to followers of Herr Doktor Marx, I'm not sure - but probably worth the risk!). I was introduced to this particular 'Saint' many years ago by a native Dubliner - but that's another story...
Also good to see Mr Mongoose back - I was worried we might have lost a crew member overboard in these heavy seas...
The new telly just survived the first two minutes of the news, mr mongoose, some PBC bimbo informing us peasants of the signifigance of neighbours brealing bread with each other, as Cameron dines among the vanquished, as though we were infants.
Oh, here he goes, boasting about how long he has been up.
The lassie from the BBC is on her knees outside No 10.
What with her and the lady in the studio, I have never seen such moist gussets.
I think I'll go and singalonga Shania Twain. That don't impress me much.
I hope your trousers are a close fit, mr bungalow bill, for you must remove your belt. And your shoes. And hobble your way through departures. To show you are a good, humiliated subject of the Free World's rulers. The jihadi, of course, just wanders in, demanding refuge.
Mr Bill could try wearing a nice dress and getting flouncy; it is very popular these days and signals 'Be nice to me or I'll sue you for every Euro'. He needn't have any surgery; that Jenner fellow did not and he ended up as a covergirl, so he did.
I almost feel sorry for my TV, Mr I - it has been at serious risk for some time (years) now but then I remember that thing about not shooting the messenger... Just picked up the reportage of our own 'The Donald's' proclamation (if only they could swap places) "and I am unanimous in that...". Now where the fuck have I heard that before? Actually I feel cheated - surely they could have kept us on the edge of our seats for a little longer? Are we being Served? I don't think so...
Moist gussets, Mrs Woar, an image to fortify the bewildered traveller. Thanks Mr SG but I think this one's been desanctified; lovely even so.
Mrs WOAR: I saw the other day that Bruce-Caitlin Jenner had called his daughter "Ken-doll" (at least that's how I assume it's pronounced in Merkin.) Roll on the grandson called Barbie, I suppose.
verge.//
Hopefully Top Hat Boy will be arsefucked by his own side after handing them such a laughable load of fuck all. You`d think he understood the Tory Party, having done sod all else all his worthless life but despite Eton`s best efforts you can`t polish a turd.
Ruled by the banksters in the EU or ruled by the banksters outside the EU it will a Comedy Spring, many televisions will be in danger between now and June.
Didn`t know pork pie head Purnell had been found with nonce stuff on his computer. Man`s a cunt.
One of his aides put it on his computer, mr yardarm, withhout him knowing anything about it, you would think anyone could use such a defence, but they can't. One of Snotty's treacherous, snivelling cockboys. Burn down the PBC, and everyone in it, that's what I say.
TeeVee in danger, alert! HamFace contorting himself at the lectern.
June 23...a glance at the fixture-list for Euro 2016 in France shows this date coming just before the start of the first round of knock-out matches. I wonder if there's been a calculation that England will do well against Russia, Wales and Slovakia, thus harnessing a degree of lumpen optimism about life - before the inevitable fuck-up, which may come as early as the w/e of June 25/26. This is a gamble because said fuck-up could already have happened by June 23 - and if it's perceived to be the fault of a bastard French or German referee, this would compound the effect.
I noticed - before turning the radio off as nausea set in - that Cameron kept using the phrase "in a reformed EU", as though he's negotiated a whole new treaty and not a few dog-eared promisory notes.
v.//
Greetings from Bangkok. I've made the mistake of logging on. I'm searching the profanysorus for a suitable four letter word to describe HamFace the turd, his lies, the inevitable stich up, and the dumb ignorance of 90% of the population who will soon commit the once great nation to the dustbin of history. I might have to resort to Thai. At least here they take to the streets.
I`m watching the incredible prick now, Mr Ishmael. I wouldn`t be surprised if the dunderhead brings down chaos on to his empty head. Has he got Lynton Crosby holding his hand on this one ? Usually the Top Hatted buffoon can`t take a shit without a suitably qualified person to wipe his arse for him.
He only won the election because Milliband and Clegg were so spectacularly useless. The Out gang might be even worse, a challenge admittedly, although as you might expect the Out lot look like an away day at Broadmoor.
I suspect most people have already made up their minds. I won`t vote, fuck the lot of them, we`ll never be independent until we combine duty with pleasure and start hanging the banksters. But it might lead to trouble for you in your Orcadian fastness if the verdict is for Out. Being deprived of the Euro trough will probably send Fat Alec off on his own Exit tantrum. Hopefully the fat fuck will die of apoplexy.
It could all be quite troubling, mr verge, to an innocent, or a creature from Beyond, as it is, for those gathered here and for many others, this pantomime is just par for the Cameron course. Having said that, every vox pop thread I look at is overwhelmingly Big-Endian, although there are some Little-Enders among the NewPuritan trannie activists at the Guardian. The trouble is that thread commenters are by nature anti-establishment and it is hard to know what the wider country makes of all this, my guess would be that the migrant-jihadi scare will shift many to the BigEnd and that Cameron should resign after an Out vote, except that anyone who would choose to govern with Nick Clegg, instead of running a minority government and then calling another election is unlikely to do the decent thing. D you remember hiw iften he said, This is why I was elected PM, even though he wasn't ? It is that sort of congenital, delusional conceit, which enables, indeed requires the use of the phrasaeology which you rightly deride. I should think that he's fucked, Osborne is fucked, Johnson, ditheringly opportunistically, is fucked and the Tory party as was is fucked. If only there was an opposition.
I'm with Mike, I won't vote. Either I'll lose my job, which depends on import/export or I'll stay in it. One's as bad as the other so I don't care. I start at 5am, at the same time that the Incredible Prick (ha, who was it who said Wisdom begins by calling things by their proper name?) is convincing himself he's Prince Hal by merely being awake.
-richard
Ah, so, mr mike, good to know you have arrived safely, the storm brewing in the China Sea could dwarf all this EuroShit. Yours is an expression of dismay echoed by many, here, from a particular tradition, sort of soft-right, disappointed, what, cultural patriots, not Poundlanders, not Paul Nuttals, not Diane Worsits, milder, kinder, more decent people, awakening from twenty-five years of spin to find that they have much more in common with old lefties like mr bungalow bill and I than they do with the philistine merchant bankers who now own the Cabinet's snivelling cockboys, nincompoops and deranged, redneck blowhards.
That dumb ignorance is widespread is self-evident, that it is assiduosly cultivated by both MefiaMinster and GlobaCorp is equally obvious, I don't know if it resides in quite ninety per cent of the population, although I would have to think long and hard before staking my life on that optimism being well-founded.
Oh, such fierce, bitter beauty, mr richard, "convincing himself that he's Prince Hal by merely being awake." That should be the title of a Cameron biography, should be the impertinent poltroon's epitaph.
I will vote, mr yardarm, not because I think it will make any difference to Project Europe, just to spite the Tribesmen, who see any divergence from Gnasherism as an intolerable outbreak of democracy. I saw a few hideous moments of the Expenses Kid, Fat Alec Salmond, this morning, whilst scrabbling under Harris for the remote control and an Out vote might make his fat head explode in fake indignation. It is neat, actually, Gnasher says that she would unilaterally call another Neverendum -which she cannot do - if there was a UK-wide rejection of Cameron's proposals, even though she hates Cameron, she woukd have to campaign for the end he require - the trouble is that even if there was a referendum on Scottish Independence the migrant issue resonates as frighteningly here as it does in Kent and if the SNP's Merkelism became, as it would, as suspect as their oil price prediction is now seen to be, then the mad bastard Tribesmen'd be running around biting their own arses. Every cloud, has a non-tartan lining.
Mr I: of to Cambodia tomorrow to Siem Reap to visit Angkor Wat, the capital of the great Khamer civisation of 1000 years ago - the greatest civilisation of its time - and still the largest religious complex ever buit.
That civilsation abruptly ended, and Ankor Wat was rapidly submerged into jungle to be forgotten for centuries, before it was rediscovered by historians.
Seems more than an apt metaphore.
Have you got up into Laos yet Mr Mike? When I was there, twenty odd years ago, we were met at the border by a Communist Party minder, a charming young woman, Cornell educated, who accompanied us on the trip. Back then you had to fly between Vientiane and Luang Prabang as the road was very, very bad and infested with Bandits... Geat treasures await you though - I hope...
Mr SG not visiting Laos this time. Laos crept into the conversation when discussing the illegal American bombing of Cambodia & Laos a few conversations ago. However, thinking about a more extensive trip next year taking in Burma (or whatever its called) as well. The fascinating culture and history of these areas is not well understood in the West, more is the pity.
I know nothing of those places, mr mike, but I live on a neolithic site, a Viking site, a WW1 and WW2 site; circles and mounds and wrecks and fortifications, you can't turn around here without seeing ghosts, if it wasn't for the tilting of the planet and the traversing sun and the seasons one could drown in antiquity and its servant, Death. mr tdg had something good to say, when we were talking about Greece, a while ago, something about worlds, they rise and fall, almost without knowing it. Just, a moment ago, watching Jabberwocky's new series on the Renaissance Unchained and cannot help but hope your metaphor misplaced. Bon aventure et bon chance, as we say, now, in England.
So the great renegotiation proclaims that it will deliver: 2 mean-spirited penny-wise restrictions on migrant benefits, the ever-closer words will not be said in the same sentence as the UK, some bullshit about euro bailouts that has been covered already, something about protecting the City (as if they needed that), and some prattle about no discrimination against non-Eurozone countries - which is already both illegal and happening anyway. Prince Hal, for 'tis he apparently, then says that staying in the UK will make us safer, stronger and better off. Well, none of it overlaps much, does it? But it is a masterclass in fucking over one's nearest opponents. Wisely, most of the Cabinet big-hitters have decided to keep their powder dry, especially Osborne one imagines. It even cuts the Nats off at the knees. (Cameron will even visit Scotland I hope and get the poor lass up on stage with him for a Nuremberg song-and-dance number. Poor Nicola, that it has come to this.)
It is supposedly the last killing of his premiership and, horrible little bastard that he is, he has fucked them all over. Again. Unless he changes his mind and the firm hand of experienced government is needed to steer the ship of state for another 5. His resignation pledge cannot have been made in the real expectation of this sort of majority, and certainly the Jezzoid is a completely unexpected own goal for Labour. What's to resign for?
My own view is that the game is over. The EU is killing itself by overreach. It is better now to be a good family boy and visit granddad in his hospital bed because there are going to be pickings to be had after the funeral.
MR Mongoose: for me the telling phrase of spin was referring to 'in-work' benefits - ie not benefits is general, but some tiny corner of the benefits world that once everyone had returned back to watching football could be reclassified, and thereby included again.
For once the English language is lacking to describe HamFace.
It is the triumph of a true statesman, mr mongoose, and goes to show that those working hours directives apply only to the servants and not the masters. Rather like the tax regulations. , a very, very small one Quite proply, in my view.
He has always had, up his resignation sleeve, the imminence of a war, somewhere, and if he's not resoundingly fucked six ways to Christmas in a Fuck The Frogs'n'Nazis vote, he will play it, although what sort of a Tory party he would be leading into election is difficult to predict, a very, very small one I should think, many by then having gone shopping in Poundland.
No, it is the triumph of a proper Tory bastard, Mr Ishmael. Maybe, it isn't even that. Maybe it is the triumph of an insider against the rest of us. The horrible, sordid cabal of swine at the summit was enough to pop your eyes clear out of your skull. Bastards. And yet.
Did we not all see? Even the Stavros Boy piped up that he would veto the deal if'n he didn't get his tuppence. As if the others would not have just told him to fuck off back to Athens and be grateful that it is only his compatriots and their families starving and not him and his. We lost the right one of that pair of freedom fighters, I fear.
The only way through is a resounding vote to leave. Burn it all down and be prepared for the pain. it won't happen, of course. Osborne has just twigged that he is saddled with the Treasury for two full terms and that is him toasted. As it toasts almost all of them. If one had a real regard for the stature and courage of our noble leader, one might think that he was playing a longer game. Perhaps even the oh-so-reluctant Mr Gove is playing a similar. Watch Gove and we'll see what the intellectual end of the Tories is trying to do.
But isn't it just so desperately boing already? Only Day 1.
One can see wheels within wheels within wheels, mr mongoose. Is it mere coincidence that the gargoyles fronting the ToryBigEnders are repellent even by cabinet standards, Gove hated, IDS loathed and despised, death's head misshapen; Grayling an oaf, who would flock to their banner and howvmany more would be utterly, utterly sickened by this pack. As you know, I have always had a special loathing for Michael Spit, from when he was nobody, and nothing would surprise me about his current motivation, unless it was that he was acting in the country's interests.
I purdahise myself on Sunday mornings, cannot bear, on the Lord's day, that cunt Marr, his putridness, his guests, his cod invigilatilon, Oh, for the days of the dogshooter, Robin Day, instead of this rancid MediaMinster cabal.
That's right about Stavros, shame.
It may be ignoble but a migrant incident may be all it takes to silence and defeat the LittleEnders, either in continental Europe or in the branch office, here.
Damn my eyes Mr Ishmael, I saw both Gnasher and Ham Face on Marr this morning. As you said, you`d think the arse falling out of the oil price would shut her up and Mr Stavros found out that there`s no EU teat to suck from anymore but she`s so stupid she couldn`t find the hole in her arse without Satnav.
It would be interesting to see what Fat Alec would do if she embarked on another Gnasherendum. An independent Scotland would leave the fat fraud without a meal ticket. She`s the new McMugabe in Edinburgh and no more Westminster trough for him to guzzle at. It might be he`ll try a third shot at leading the Tribesmen. She`ll resist that, leading to internecine Skirtman warfare. Amen to that.
And hopefully it`ll get nasty down here too. Now Cockman has joined Hissing Gove, Failing and Turdball Head Smith in the Outers it should hopefully provoke Gideon. Ever the tactician and never the strategist Osbum will resort to dirty tricks to protect his entitlement to succeed Pg Fuckerand so undermine his rival Cockman and the failed Guardsman. They reciprocate the loathing and hopefully will respond in kind. Beautiful chaos.
Ham Face is already losing it, talking through his top hat about the EU facing off Putin, as fucking if, and, fuck me, Somali pirates. He`s realised he`s mired himself in a heap of shit of his own creation. And given that he owes his eminence not to any inate ability or talent, he has none, but to his late father`s book of clubland contacts, his mother in law`s social circle and the Eton school tie the useless prat is capable only of making the situation worse.
Mr Raft says the following:
Boris is entirely cynical and hopes that In will win. He is not all that concerned, though, because it won't affect him. He expects In to win.
The advantage to him is that the constituency parties, which is where the next leader will be elected, will be looking for a successor and he calculates that they really want OUT. They will punish and reject anyone from the In campaign, despite that being the winning side.
As this is the last credible attempt on the leadership for him, by being on the OUT campaign he puts himself in the key position to be the next leader of the Conservative party. And if he has to run off against Corbyn, he anticipates a comfortable win.
Thus he will remain a Europhile in the EU and he'll be the leader, and the PM, and all it takes is him taking a political gamble now. In reality it is not much of a gamble because he is at the end of his career arc anyway, so he might as well riskit for a biscuit.
N.B. Mr Raft and I disagree on the relative threat posed by a resurgent USSR or ISIS. He says a religious ideology can be fought one person at a time and that the real threat is Putin in Red Czar mode.
I say that he has underestimated what a religious ideology means; if there is one thing which Putin has understood it is that he needs the Orthodox Church and that he has bigger fish to fry than a bunch of argumentative Europeans.
She is certainly stupid, mr yardarm, as supid as her angry, pinched face and her screechy SeeYouJimmy voice suggest, worse than that, though, her nationalism starts and ends with a juvenile hatred of Whisky Maggie, there is no lyricism, no poetry, no romance in her, just a refardation, a fixed posture of fathomless grievance, a stupid, nasty wee woman, pickled in bile.
Even your correspondent, here, a man who abominates nationalism, English, Irish, Scottish or Welsh, has done more to hymn Scotland, best part of England than has this fucked-up little wretch. I am beginning to think that the Neverendum is now a busted flush, as I said, it is not about patriotism or love of country and I am sure that fewer and fewer buy into the Tribesman psychosis, the nutters may mock the reality of the oil crash but wiser heads will remember. I don't think the May election will see a resurgent Labour but it doesn't matter, Ruth Boy Davidson may rattle the cage a bit. It is an assembly dominated by three witches, Liberal Willie seldom getting a word in, and the horrid little green fucker, Patrick Earring, getting far more airtime than his status merits, making a living from a sensibility which most of us had before he was born. Professional environmentalists, whatever next?
I do hope that Junkie George is discommoded, maybe he'll grow agitated and appear in the House with white powder around his nostrils, squeaking his head off at a million miles an hour.
A look at his cv, mrs woar, would show that he's cynical, his electorate and readership indifferent to the idea of public servicd and duty. I'd jail him without trial, me, confiscate his everything, and then I'd disperse as much as possible from London to elsewhere, deport the oligarchs, nationalise their property portfolios, unseat the Ruritanians and turn the Golden Mile into a work-camp. Johnson is everything that's wrong made flesh.
I don't know how much of a grassroots Tory party may remain after all this or what sort of a parliamentary party, either. If the majority deliver a Remain vote then their coffers and cups will run over and they might romp home in an election, although who would fight it on the ground is questionable, if all the Leavers have taken their business to Poundland.
I can't be the only citizen-suspect enraged by the earlier suggestion that BoJo would only reveal his conscience in his Filth-o-Graph column and I do not know how influential his stagey mewlings will be, outside Kensington; whether or not your prediction is correct regarding an outcome your assessment of BoJo's character is widely shared, beyond MediaMinster, and I think others will eventually shoot his fox and eat it for dinner..
I think you are correct, Putin is enculturated to Western Reason, cautious of his life and position. Ahmed, in his many incarnations, would detonate himself and a dirty nuke/bug bomb in a heartbeat. That there are many such weapons lying around all over Vlad's former colonies, undocumented and unguarded, must bend his mind towards ISIL, as it should ours. Fuck hearts and minds, these people need
incinerating, quickly.
It was a strangely ineloquent address to the nation, and the article itself is pretty rum. Errors everywhere - which is not the point - but it isn't then a polished or finished offering but something slung out relatively quickly. Or he is more cunning than a cunning thing?
The losing inheritor argument is a sensible thought but nothing damages politicians more than being on the losing side of a vote. Differentiation - yes, please - but not differentiation by losing. Boris Loser is a much lesser figure than Boris Now. It was a strange and somewhat odd appearance. It was almost interesting. Do politicians go to sleep do you think in very dark blue not-quite-fitting Austin Reedy suits? Or perhaps they have polyester onesies with a suit pattern on them. I would vote for such a creature in a heartbeat.
I'm no BoJo fan, but I think his defection is a big deal. Of course it serves his self interest first. But it will counteract the bias in the press as he's a luvvie. And he does get the attention of the masses.
This will be a totally dishonest campaign, which is why some counterbalance to the establishment is important, and the careerists will be reconing that BoJo will be the next PM.
I'm not yet optimistic, but this is good rather than bad. Also bad for HamFace and his sidekick, so thats good in my book.
Just been drinking some Cambodian champagne at breakfast - this may have cheered me up??
My dear mr narcolept agrees with mr woar, that Boris knows exactly which side his bread is buttered, and that a heroic defeat will play far better among what remains of the Tory grassroots than having supported a win for In. The supposed leader-in-waiting, Osbo, is booed every time he shows his face in public, even by his own voters, whereas Boris still mostly gets people wanting to have their picture taken with him.
I am having trouble convincing your online security that I Am Not A Robot, first having failed to recognise pizza and next when asked to guess which of an assortment of vehicles was a pickup truck without waking mr n and asking him. I shall try again.
Mrs narcolept: I've seen those pizzas, and there is no shame in not recognising them as the real thing.
I am sorry, it is not my doing, the pizza barricade. Any suggestions, mr mike, as to how I might pull it down, and hurl it across the channel?
Many agree with mrs woar and mr narcolept - and it is pleasing to learn that he has raised his thoughts from washing the motorbike components in the bath - and the reptilian Johnson does act with a shiftiness that shouts Fifth Columnist!
I thought that Dame Isobel's performance eclipsed any other I have heard, full-on and hard-core, as the New People say, and I am glad you liked it.
Erratic in presentation and substance, mr mongoose, corny and half-hearted, more insincere than HamFace, himself.
The longer one considers this exaggerated moment the lesser it seems and his cry is not for Brexit but for jolly well telling the rotters thaf we, the noble Brits, are going to roll-up our darned sleeves, get our hands dirty and our knees grazed, in pursuit of, well, something better, and not this piffle which the prime minister has achieved, something more dashed principled, like selling London to international criminals.
mrs woar used to talk of the sexual Grooming of the Nation by entrenched degenerates, Johnson and his babytalk are part of its
infantilising.
I would hang him, outright, see what he made of that, cheeky bastard.
It is only good rather than bad momentarily, mr mike; Johnson has often demonstrated his untrustworthiness, not least to his wife and family, although quite why anyone would want a bulbous albino pawing at them mystifies me: as mayor he is corrupt, evasive and untruthful to questioners and his only loyalty seems to be that bought by the current owners of the Filth-O-Graph, the tyrannical, fascistic Barclay Twins. Even by dismal, modern standards he is not even a journalist, just a click baiter, writing what he's told to write, in a vain attempt by the Twins to save the newspaper which they have trashed.
His influence on Brexitism will be malign, counter-productive and maybe fatal; I hope he is swiftly outed.
I would hang him, outright, see if he had any schoolboy latinisms for his neck snapping and his arse falling out.
I agree with all you say, Mr I. But we are dealing in a world of mirrors, as you have previously noted. This whole exercise is a work of deceit, and I don't credit the albino with sufficient skill to pull off an inside the tent sabotage job - but we will see. He seems to amuse the unwashed and the ladies with loose knickers - and they all have a vote, unfortunately. If it discomforts HamFace even momentarily, then that's a plus.
Too much Clockwork Orange, that, mr mongoose, Boris in a onesie, him and his braying sister, tucked-up for the night by a transgender Nurse, playing doctors and nurses. Eeeek!
Hanging, it's the only answer to Johnsonism, imagine this freak as prime minister, Gove as his snivelling cockboy, his Osborne; Sarah Vine as director of propaganda, Downing Street bursting at the seams with Chink and Russkie criminals, cocaine arriving in diplomatic bags and a nation of Cockney Geezahs, yelling G'won, Boris-My-Son, Fill-Yer-Boots, mate, Get-Some-In, Diamond Geezah.
You only have to look at his Dad, to know Johnson's a Banana Republican, a million times worse than Tony'n'Imelda ever were.
My fear is that with a Brexit there would be no end to the destruction and terror the likes of Gove and Shmidt would reek upon the aged and vulnerable, the albino would prove to be weak with the demands of the City and St. Jezza does not have the appeal to oust an albino PM, as Mr Mike alludes to.
A vote for stay put, or whatever it is called, may, at the very least, afford us some form of protection from future abuse by the current TopHatters.
I suspect that the people you mention will do that anyway, mr inmate, as would the frustrated dogs in Labour and that there is scant protection from the EU. The only hope from a Brexit vote is that it would kick MediaMinster in the face, sunder the TopHatters and something better might emerge from the fissure. As with Trump, the fact that he is upsetting the sacred cows, is optimism enough. Lovely, by the way, to see Jeb Bush slinking away, his gonzo brother, Dubya, in tow, looking like the village idiot. If only the Clintons would go the same way. Spunky Bill does look like Death, I pray that an energetic hooker and some dodgy coke see him off in a campaign motel room.
In short, I see no combination of current possible elites which will not be predatory, brutal and rapacious and at least a throwing of the cards into the air might produce some different options, might flex a democratic muscle gone flabby. In this instance, Schmidt and his chums may be cheering-on their own Nemesis.
Thats the hope Mr I, that the people re-discover their cojones and vote out; then, like the troops returning after WW2, they say: right, fuck that, we are not going back to where its was before.
I'm a glass half full person - literally, as we speak.
Yes Mr I, I caught that splendid image of GeorgeWChimp and the intern abuser Spunky Bill, shuffling off stage; good to see that money, power and entitlement can't keep Deaths Sergeants at bay.
Yes there is scant protection from the EU, and the Euro Court of human rights, but at least it is beyond the reach of the inJustice sekatary the Gove creature, unlike our own politicized courts; joint enterprise, imprisonment for debt or drug use, WTF?
Optimism about an unknown future better than 'the Devil you know? I don't know. A stay put vote should bring about the destruction of Westminster and all who sail in it, at least we would have but one group of rulers.
I hope, indeed pray you are right, an end to the Elites reign must be better than the current descent into ruin.
Nicola is not going to make it at this rate. The internal contradictions are starting to show. Some bastard just asked her on the radio if campaigning to keep the UK in the EU was campaigning to keep Scotland in the UK? Poor lass, she'll be in the funny farm before it is over.
The spiteful, robo-shrill, sourfaced contradiction of Gnasherism upsets some frequency in my brain, mr mongoose, maybe some harbinger of an epileptic fit. I do not have epilepsy but the sight and sound of the mad wee woman do prompt what I fear is the onset of a seizure of some sort and so as a precaution I avoid any medium in which she might appear. I have recently developed sparkly, migrainous disturbance around my visual periphery and I feel this may have been triggered by exposure to the referendum which Gnasher first lost, then won. I am the fastest remote-slinger in the North but not always fast enough and I heartily wish that there would be a Gnasher warning, as there is of flash photography.
I am not alone in this condition, le grande Gnasher mal, many are allergic to the sight and sound of her, to the point that she is unreported in many quarters, perhaps in the hope that her head will explode in mock idignation, that she asphyxiate on her own vomited bile, fall off her heels, breaking her neck or simply go away, back to her teenaged bedroom, angrily flicking her menstrual blood at pictures of Margaret Thatcher, who she has become. I am grateful, therefore, for your despatch from Affliction's front line. And, Hey, let's be careful out there.
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