Angry Man: Fuck the fucking wastes of space.
The money guzzling, champagne hoarding, tax-evading scum.
Sat in their off-shore tower pretending to delicately nibble on caviar and quaff countless quantities of quality plonk,
Whilst in reality they favour far baser pastimes like laughing at poor people and deep-throating a pig.
Day after week after month after year the scandals keep coming like a conveyor belt of shit.
“The Party of Law and Order” received more fines than any other premises.
“The Party of Sound Money” that crashes the economy into oblivion and made it so Grandma has to choose between starving and freezing to death.
“The Party of Parties” who danced on the bodies of hundreds of thousands who followed their rules and obeyed their laws. The bloodied corpses who they foxtrot over with a spring in their step and a giggle in their gullets.
Vultures gorging on death, getting fat on our pain and misery.
“Hello!” he says, lightly bending his spine to indicate gritted teeth respect. “I’m YouGov NaZootSuit, Chairman of the Conservative Party. Chancellor for the Duchy of somewhere or other completely meaningless, and MP for Little Cock in Backside. Due to a very tiny and insignificant error, through no fault of my own, it turns out I owed the taxman over a million quid. But don’t worry! Back in August, I negotiated with the treasury to clear the mess up and I’m proud to say I’m innocent of any wrongdoing whatsoever.”
He smiles greasily.
“What’s that?” He asks, his face dropping. “Well yes, I was head of the treasury at the time, but I pretty promise I investigated myself properly and no improprieties occurred!”
“Wotcher Dudes!” Ejacultes a large blonde creature in the corner, as it gazumps towards you with typical exuberance, the smell of Lambrini and piss emanating from it’s trousers.
“I’m - like - totally Bozza J, the king of the Tories, PM to da People!” He snorts as he laughs and a piece of sausage roll falls in slow motion from his overstretched mouth to the floor.
“I’m currently under a tinsy-winsy investigation for talking total cobblers out my arse in the houses of commons, but don’t you worry about that, who’s for Strip Twister?!”
Jazz hands.
He’s doing fucking jazz hands as he twitches his head in the direction of the board, which adorns a nearby table. As if he’d been waiting for someone to harang into a game of sweaty naked entanglement.
“I should mention, I also got bribed by every man and his dog, including the chairman of the Beeb, which these days is little more than the Ministry of Propaganda.
"Move over Gaffer" says god's typo Dominic Raab, as he speeds across the room to throw
something at a junior staffer. (As is his modus operandi.)
Rishi Sunak is the most inneffectiant, powerless Prime Minister in living history, he's like what would happen if you gave the keys to downing street to the lovechild of Wallace from Wallace and Gromit, and a really angry hamster. He's totally at the mercy of his party, which unfortunately for him isnt' actually a party but a collection of conflicting angry voices yelling into the dark.
But all this corruption, all this disgusting foul decadence pails into nothingness. Forget the poetry, metaphor or satirical line here. I need to speak clearly.
This government allowed refugee children to be kidnapped from home office accommodation, and then attempted to cover it up.
I’ll repeat.
This Government. Specifically Home Secretary Cruella Devilleverman, and lets be fair, almost certainly her boss Fishy Rishi, watched over 70 children be kidnapped, literally picked up and shoved in a van, in front of home office run hotels, and did fuck all. Diddly squat.
Children, more than likely being sold into slavery, or worse, and our government did nothing.
I don’t have an end to this rant. I feel sick. I feel angry, and I feel broken. This country isn’t great anymore. Anything good we could be is being stifled and destroyed by a racist, sexist, transphobic, homophobic, classist, aristocratic bunch of evil cunts.
Fuck the Tories, welcome to Shit Britain.
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