Interesting psychology in No 10’s reckless defence of Mr Jizz, where most of the cabinet are having their remaining credibility sandblasted to dust by being forced publicly to declare their live for Big Cunty. It’s not just indicative of how “Boris” gets his kicks: it’s the
...*getting away* with the lie (lied to give him time to escape from the fall out from the previous lie) wherein lies the real high, the ecstatic buzz that led him to become a Soviet sleeper agent in the first place.
But there’s more, & even creepier stuff going on. Spunky is a genuinely vile arsehole, arrogant, contemptuous of others & a sneering bully. The true horror is how the pitiful condition of the Tory Party means the cabinet have all the marks of text book abuse victims, hopelessly..
...declaring love for their abuser while he laughs as he takes his belt to them. It’s frankly revolting - a foul mash-up of The Mayor of Casterbridge & Stalin’s politburo. Worse still, it strikes at the very heart of everything that’s wrong with Britain’s polity: a truly corrupt
...media/plutocrat/political class have collapsed into Tiberianism, their titular emperor a lazy fat clown with no discernible talent except ruthless selfishness, leaving the country to be run by terrified eunuchs & a preening and cruel court favourite who treats the country &...
...it’s people simply as playthings for his amusement. Expendability hardly starts to describe us in these wankers’ minds. This is the stage, in the movies, when the Praetorian guard step in and a bloodbath ensues in the palace. Don’t hold your breath though. And don’t expect...
...Professor Wankjam to be thrown to the wolves the way “Boris” has previously instinctively jettisoned colleagues, friends, wives & children to lubricate his getaway. As the point of him being Emperor is simply to be applauded by a giggling nation each time he trips over his...
...cock, & the job sort of requires just a bit of politics & shit, he needs Count Spunkula to do the nerdy stuff. Losing him would, for our Prime Monster, be as unthinkable as chopping his own cock off. And that’s not going to happen until you hear the sound of machine gun fire..
...from near St James’ Park, frightening the pelicans. Don’t hold your breath, if any of us have any left by then. Have a nice day!
