Paul Nutall give up the ghost man
I saw you on that debate, thumbing your invisible fucking power detenator, like a coked up Eddie Hitler who’s just found a bottle of meths.
What is the point of UKIP? Apart from to become increasingly racist like a pissed up Sun reader on a tram. You’ve done your job, the clues in the fucking name; UK Independence Party.
We’re independent now, alone in a world of manicial despots like Kim Jong Un, President Duterte and fucking Theresa May.
Like an embarrassing one night stand, you’ve served your purpose. So wash the cum out of your hair, wipe your mascara off, phone a taxi and fuck off.
Yes you’ve fucked us, yes it was exciting but now we can’t look you in the eye anymore. The people who voted out weren’t keen on how Europe is managed, but you keep going on about fucking Burkas, like a grandad after his 6th can of Skol.
You’re done. Finished. The tories used you like like a dead pig at a millionaires party. Go on. Stand down, it’s just embarrassing you lingering around here, like the smell of piss on the back seat of a town centre taxi at 4am.
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