Jezza man, wake the fuck up. You’ve got three weeks…
Jezza man, wake the fuck up. You’ve got three weeks to sort your fucking shit out. I know, I know, kinder fairer politics blah blah blah. That shit won’t wash pal. You can’t fight the fucking Nazis by throwing rose petals and expressing your disdain through the medium of interpretive dance.
The world is on the brink of nuclear war so shut the fuck up about abolishing Trident for now. We love an underdog in the UK but not a fucking liability son. So get yourself a fucking spin doctor and a suit, play the establishment game and for fuck sake memorise your notes because at the moment you sound like a confused missing grandfather at a bus station.
You won’t win, you can’t fucking win and even if you were competent, that cunt Murdoch will devour you like John Prescott with cake at a christening. Still, taking all that into consideration, a fucking brick would be better than these shower of cunts.
So, get to it, I want to see a Rocky style montage of you holding babies, people laughing at your anecdotes, you stood in a new hospital with your sleeves rolled up and your tie tucked into your shirt, and on building sites with a high visibility jacket and a hard hat. Yes, the only way you can win over the great British brainless bastards is to become a fucking mock Tory.
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