It’s just occurred to me. It’s B-Day today.
Poor Boris.
Vote of No Confidence.
Imagine getting away with killing people and medically experimenting on kids, but it all comes tumbling down thanks to three fifths of a glass of Sainsbury’s £9.99 Chianti at 4.30pm in the garden.
“We are fine with the deaths, Dr Shipman, but the jaywalking is literally a step too far”.
Rape the economy and liberty, sure. But don’t you dare touch that stale slice of Madeira cake.
It’s hilarious reading the angry letters of the Tory MPs doing it. Everything that should make them hate Boris is the bit at the beginning where they say “I’ll always remember the good times”.
“We salute your leadership through the covid crisis and your leadership in the Ukraine crisis but...”
Do you? Ah. So you’re as big a cunt as him then. The only reasons you want rid are worrying poll numbers and personal ambition.
He’s the worst PM in history. And they haven’t a fucking clue why and would love to put in someone even worse.
It should be easy to find something better than the worst ever. But it isn’t. Because British politics is a sack of snakes. Get rid of one, reach in the bag for another...shit, it’s a snake! Reach deeper. Another snake!? What are the odds? Snakes, snakes, snakes, as deep as the bag can go.
Daniel Jupp.