HELL ORDERS NUCLEAR-POWERED FURNACE.

This is the news of a ten-billion souls deal, struck by the Beelezebub Energy Corporation (reg. office Down Below) with the French Government to acquire a billion-kiloton nuclear reactor.

We have a new guest arriving any moment, said CEO of HellCorp, Mr Satan,

and we would not wish him to feel cold, cool or even comfortable, not for a moment of Eternity. Yes, yes, I know it is a long time, you don't need to tell me, sonny, I sometimes feel as though I've been here forever. But that's the business I'm in, eternal torment; that's what it says on the tin, that's my mission statement; if I say Eternal Roasting, then that's what I deliver. What, Clergypersons? Yes, my best customers; roasting in the beginning, roasting now and roasting for evermore. Amen, so be it.

M-sieu Hollande, the diminutive, cock-waving philanderer and socialiste turncoat president of France is due to join us in the not very distant future and in exchange for a place some distance from the heating system has agreed to give us the furnace on favourable terms, ie freely, or for free as you folks so inelegantly say, up there.

We shall very soon, in my terms, anyway, very soon be receiving the Reverend Doctor (Univ. of eBay) Ian Paisley's pall bearers and anticipate that they might put a strain on the heating, nothing, though, considering our expertise in the field, that we cannot handle.

First of all, Mr Tiny Speaker, I am sure the whole house will join with me in sympathising with Brother Knobinson, whose arse is this big at the moment. getting bigger and of course going smaller but mainly getting bigger......

hear-hear, poor old chap, put her to the sword

.......as further revelations emerge about the conduct of our former sister witness in Christ, Iris, the dirty, old slut. Being a young parent and married, as I am, to my official wife, Sarah-George, a well-known patron of muff-diving charities, I am unlikely, myself, to be similarly embarrassed, not that I am easily embarrassed, fuck me, no, embarrassment, me, you must be fucking joking.

But all is not lost, Mr Tiny Speaker. Indeed, my uh favourite, uh uh uh newspaper, Mr Tiny Speaker, the uh Gay Gay Gay Gay Gay uh Times, the, uh, Gay Times, Mr Tiny Speaker, is hoping to run a, uh uh uh uh, a uh uh uh, photo spread of the young man at the centre of the scandal, young Mr uh uh uh

shuffles papers, Claw of Doom bangs on Despatch Box

Mr uh Mr uh, Mr uh, Kyle McCock, Mr Tiny Speaker who is, as most members will agree, a right young vixen

and we must hope that the uh uh uh uh uh uh Gay Times is fearless in exposing Mr McCock in all his gloryhole and even uh uh uh uh even, Mr Tiny Speaker, licking on an older man's lollipop, so to speak, well, why not, he obviously prefers more mature pleasures....

cheers, waving of order papers, spitroast the young tart!!....

so all, Mr Tiny Speaker is not lost, although sadly it is for Mrs Knobinson, although she will receive the resettlement allowance due all honourable and right honourable members which she will be able to spend on young male prostitutes......

.....cheers, hear-hear, Gordon is a jolly good fellow, sort of...

as she sees fit, lucky cow, for the main thing is that Mr Knobinson is the only politician capable of delivering a Northern Ireland government consisting of unreformed, unapologetic, bloodthirsty gay gangsters like Mr Kneecaps and thieving, sash-waving, cuckolded, hypocritical, bullyboy cocksuckers like himself and I commend him and myself to the House.

Mr Tiny Speaker speaks: I should just like to remind members who might have a few bottles of vodka and an hour or two to spare that Mrs Tiny Speaker

remains available for afternoon and evening parties with groups of discerning gentlemen. Mrs Tiny Speaker, members will know, is hopeful of becoming a councillor, rather like Mrs Knobinson, and is keen to make new friends. I now call Mr Ian and Duncan Smith.

Thank you, Mr Tiny Speaker and the whole house is indebted to yourself and Mrs Tiny Speaker, so I understand. But I am sure the house will agree with me that Mr & Mrs Knobinson prove my point about the validity of the God-fearing family as the one true means of corrupting young, recently bereaved young men; co-habitees, as they call themselves, simply cannot provide a platform for such overarching, self-serving, sanctimonious wickedness as has been displayed by the knobcrazed grannyslut, Iris, and her right honourable husband, Cottaging Pete; if ever a couple spoke volumes of the superiority of marriage over lesser arrangements, it is this outstanding political marriage, a union of ambitions if not genitals.

Mr Nick Clegg:

Well, Mr Tiny Speaker, I listen to the prime minister but nowhere do I hear the prime minister explaining for instance, which is of great interest to my party, whether the unhonourable and ancient lady, Iris Knobgobbler, actually defecates on the young man or he defecates on her, of if they take it in turns, like decent Liberal Democrats do. All very well the prime minister scoffing but these are questions that simply must be answered if he expects me and my turdbandits to form a coalition with him, after the erection, I mean election. Put simply. Mr Tiny Speaker, is the former member of this house and former member of the devolved Ulster parliament and former member of Castlereagh Council a scatslutbitch, or not. The people demand answers.

Prime Minister Snot: Uh, uh, uh, uh, I am happy, Madam Deputy Spanker, to inform the house that Brother Robinson has decided to get his head down for a few weeks in the hope that this shit blows over - but not, unlike the Liberals might wish, over him. Elder Peter has received the support of all of his colleagues and that is why he is fucking off for six weeks. A full and far-reaching cover-up will be conducted by an eminent Orange QC at the end of which Mr Robinson will resume his position as Grand Master, Worshipful Master and Cocksucker-in Chief, whilst Mrs Knobgobbler will be, in the way of these things, airbrushed from history. Elder Robinson has asked me to remind colleagues on this side of the moat that he asked for the inquiry into himself himself and so therefore must be exonerated, rather as I will be exonerated by the Iraq inquiry, and everybody else too, I obviously won't, Mr Tiny Speaker, request an inquiry into myself, because I am doing the right thing for the country. Yes, it is permissible for lavishly-paid public employees to absent themselves from work should members of the press discover that they are worthless, thieving arseholes, perfectly proper, where would we be if we had to stand and face the flak? The main thing, Madam Deputy Spanker is that we keep Mr Kneecaps happy, or else he might kill us all, like he nearly did the mad old lady, Baroness Thatcher.

Dons Presbyterian Orange sash, dances wee jig up an down the aisle of the chamber and sings "....and on the Twelfth I love to wear the sash my father wore."

A group of Robisonites prepares to march through neighbouring Catholic streets, frightening the children, in the name of God.

----------------------------------

From the Belfast Telegraph

Iris Robinson's lover, Kirk McCambley, becomes instant gay pin-up

By Lindsay Fergus
Saturday, 9 January 2010

Kirk McCambley was aged 19 when he had an affair with Iris Robinson

Iris Robinson’s young lover Kirk McCambley has become an unlikely icon for the gay community.

Members of the homosexual community were left outraged when Mrs Robinson described their behaviour as “an abomination”.

The UK’s best-selling gay magazine Attitude has asked the 21-year-old to pose on the next edition of its front cover.

Attitude editor Matthew Todd revealed his magazine has been trying to contact Mr McCambley.

He said: “We would love to see him on the cover of Attitude.

call me ishmael

Friday, 12 September 2014

NEWS REVIEW. HADES GOES ON OVERTIME.

Tuesday, 12 January 2010

GRANNYKNOBBINGGATE, A FELLOW PRESBYTERIAN SPEAKS

Iris Robinson's lover, Kirk McCambley, becomes instant gay pin-up

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