A fucking mugwump? Is that the best you can do?…

A fucking mugwump? Is that the best you can do? What do you call your real enemies, you know, the poor, fucking Muggles? I know, I know, it’s not from Harry Potter but it is from 1865. You’re doing a shite job of representing a fucking modern day tory party aren’t you? You’ve got all the fucking grace of a giant toddler, who’s randomly smeared his own shite all over the wall and by some massive coincidence it spells out fucking ‘Brexit’

If some Japanese tourists stumbled across you and that fucking Reese-Mogg having a conversation, with him in his top hat and coat tails and you mumbling incoherently whilst pulling the sides of your eyes back in a mocking fashion, they’d think they’d fallen through a fucking rift in the space time continuum and would be terrified some cunt would bang them in a fucking work house.

Did Theresa lose a fucking bet? Or was she trying to win the ‘who’s got the most ironic job’ competition when appointing you? Because if she was, then you as Foreign Secretary shits all over Blair’s Middle East Peace Envoy bid.

You’re a fucking cartoon, a jabbering juggernaut of carnage, a fucking bumbling tornado of catastrophe, whipping up the will of the people before dumping it in fucking Slough then blowing away, you fucking walking shambles.

You’re a bald headed bespectacled tweed abuser, you fucking walking…

You’re a bald headed bespectacled tweed abuser, you fucking walking thumb. You’re like a bloated Eddie Hitler with all the tragedy and non of the comedy. You make Toad of Toad Hall look modest in your fucking Nigel hand me downs, you fucking wannabe Peaky Blinder. You cash in on catastrophe don’t you? You’re The Sun personified, filled to brim with shite and not fit to wipe an arse on, you deceitful podge faced cretin confuser, you grinning two chinned truth skewer. You’re a rabble rousing sphere headed bullshit merchant. A hate crime denying division priming bollocks monger, you fucking spunk dwelling fact fudging shite waffler.