Taken from Facebook last night, this must be the best thing to come out of the Brexit vote? A piece of literary brilliance for both the remain and leave camp. Agree with every point:
Right. Fuck this. We're ALL up shit creek and we need a paddle. Now, not in three months.
Fellow Remain voters: Enough already. Yes, we're all pissed off but navel gazing ain't gonna help. Not all 17 million Leave voters can possibly be racist northern pensioners without an O level to their name. Maybe they have a point about this quitting the EU thing? Maybe not. Whatever, we are where we are and no amount a whinging is gonna change that. Allegedly we're the intelligent ones, so get your thinking caps on.
Leave voters. Well done. Good game. We hear you. Now you need to get stuck in to the aftermath and not just piss off back to Wetherspoons. (Just banter, twats!). And the first person to say they "want their country back" gets deported to fucking Gibraltar. OK?
David. Fuck off. Shut the door behind you. Now.
George. You may be a twat but you're our twat. Plus you know the passwords for our Junior Savers account. Get your calculator. Drop the face-like-a-slapped-ass routine. You're on.
Boris. Sorry mate. That photo of you abseiling by your scrotum over the London Olympics while waving a Union Jack can't ever be un-taken. Plus, you'll never be able to appear on Question Time again without some sturdy Glaswegian nurse asking where the fuck her 350 million quid is. Not only will she have a very good point, she'll be wearing a T shirt that shows you gurning in front of that fucking bus! No captains hat for you I'm afraid.
Theresa. You're in charge love. Get the biggest shoulder pads you've got. We need Ming The Merciless in drag and you'll scare the shit out of 'em.
Nicola. Yep. Fair cop. You probably could get us on a technicality, as could London. But we fucking love shortbread. And oil. And to be honest you're probably the best politician we've got, so we need you on side. Sort your lot out and we promise never to mention that Jimmy Krankie thing again (although it is pretty uncanny) and we'll make you a Dame once we're sorted. Bring Ruth Davidson. She kicks ass.
Opposition party. We'll need one. Someone take Jeremy and John back to the British Legion Club where you found them. Take Nigel as well. Give back their sandals, buy them a pint, then go to Heathrow and collect David Milliband. Fuck it. Lets gets Ed Balls as well. He keeps George on his toes. I think he works on the lottery kiosk at Morrisons now?
Oh. And Mark Carney. Give him a knighthood and tell him to keep that shit coming. We definitely need more of that good shit!
Everyone set? Right. Hold the Easyjet. We're going to Brussels and this ain't no hen party.
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