If I still retained any of my Get Up and Go, I'd be on the next 'plane, boat, unicycle or whatever out of this damned morally defunct country. My rant is made worse by an old friend who has just emailed me from a mountain top outside Sedona, Arizona but it is basically prompted by moves from Swiss Tony (B Liar) the car salesman. He and his equally corrupt mate from Ireland are asking Dubya to allow Sinn Fein/IRA to resume collections in USA.
Thankfully, one of the Shaved Chimp's men is resisting. B Liar will win of course - who could resist that simpering look, the rolled up sleeves, the mug of tea in hand style more commonly seen amongst pseudo-males who hang around outside public lavatories in parks.
To reward the front men of a vicious organisation to cease their illegal actions is, in my book, recognising moral blackmail in its most corrosive form. " Please stop hitting me" "I've stopped - now give me your money"
It's not as if I can adjust my position to take account of the supposition that, surely, this bastard will be deposed in the near future. Glib talk of Conservative Opposition overlooks the fact that there is no Opposition. Any so-called other party that fails to make as little ground with the assistance of all the latest sleaze revelations as has Cameron's is as effective as disk brakes on a toboggan. The husband of Big Bag Mouth is set on establishing a precedent that will annoy us even into the future. A state funeral for Maggie Thatcher. He cares not a lesbian's tit about her departure. He will ask for the same treatment when his time comes. Well, sooner the better say I. Just a shame I do not have a plot of small-holding so that I might offer burial space in the pig wallow.
I am off to take my tablets and go into the rubber-lined room.
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