I’m struggling to engage with politics at the moment, which is a shitty position to be in when you’re trying to run a failing satire site.
Giving any attention to these besuited morons, flinging shit at each other in their human zoo, whilst jeering and grinning maniacally as they jack boot us in the face is exhausting.
Even Question Time is a chore nowadays, especially when you realise half the audience are Tory MP’s ‘disquised’ as normal folk, by wearing something from the fucking Georgio ArAsda range.
It’s like having a cocaine fuelled candle lit wank to a damp black and white image of a pair of legs, crudely torn from the lingerie section of your nan’s catalogue. It’s fucking difficult.
Nonetheless I tried by catching the ‘highlights’ of PMQ’s from the Channel 4 News Facebook page earlier today.
Nothing has changed much, Corbyn is angry and righteous but still fucks up the odd word and delivers his points with all the gravitas of a lost tourist asking for directions.
The front bench still sit there acting like spoilt kids who are being punished by having their iPhones confiscated, whilst shouting incomprehensible moans like dying men in nursing home who hate the fucking mashed potatoes, but can’t articulate it to the nurse.
And then there’s May. Standing there with that perpetual smirk, like the cat that murdered the milk man to get the fucking cream.
Still oozing that facade of confidence as if she’s liked, or even respected. Still somehow floating on the surface giving the illusion of strength and stability, whilst her webbed Louis Vuitton clad feet flail beneath the water.
It’s the same old shit, a bullet pointed list of Labour slurs about managing the economy that’s been photocopied so many times it’s turned black enough to be deported.
Her shrill hate spout still churning out bile and superiority, with all the relish of a pubescent school boy explaining Fortnite to his bored mam, as her half mooned eye sacks dance playfully on her spherical botoxed cheeks.
Nothing has changed. I doubt it ever will.
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