... but I just can't. The nausea... the retching... the peristaltic spasms... the clenching... I have to go and evacuate my bowels, now. OK, I need arsewipes. Where did I put those newspaper cuttings?
Ah, that's better.
I gather the pompous bastard showed up, moral compass in hand, to plead, nobly and humbly with his victorious political enemies to commit to 'investing' in... ooh, look... his Labour neighbour's Westminster* constituency.
*In the Scottish parliament, the LibDems have ousted Labour thereabouts, which has nothing to do with the matter in hand, obviously.
Mair sillar for yurr ain folk at hame, is it, Gordon? Sod off. I already gave.
Look, you horrible smirking cancer on the arse of the body politic. The turnout in the House late last night was merely to mock the transparent party-politicking of your showing up at all after... how many days' leisure at public expense? Really? You really didn't realise?
Brown, you are a living insult to the electorate of the United Kingdom the greater number of whom fired you, you may recall, in May. You have even betrayed your bought and paid for clients by sitting on your backside and scribbling for six months instead of doing your duty as their MP.
So get yourself off my TV, fuck off and write another book. Like your best-seller on Courage, currently one pee at all remainder shops. Or how about another tract for the comrades, like this one, available at the same outlets.
Yes, I still fucking hate the sight of you, you ruinous utter bastard.
I can't find the words for that 'man' -- he is a warning from history, Gordon the Ruiner, living proof of the banality of evil.
ReplyDeleteAnyway, nicely said old chap -- keep it up!