Europe going straight to voicemail
This is beyond embarrassing. It’s not even funny anymore, it’s fucking tragic.
Watching Treeza flog the bones of what used to be a dead horse today, rasping bollocks to a bunch of bemused, dead-eyed, onlookers was more difficult viewing than Leaving Neverland without the fucking dancing.
We watched on in dismay as the bloke who was supposed to back her up lowered his trousers and took a massive, baritone, dump all over her new deal, which was the same as the old one but slightly ammended with tears.
It was like watching a 70’s, dementia ridden, comedian doing mother-in-law gags with missing punch lines to a bunch of confused 5 year olds on a pier. In Welsh.
And what now? A literal vote on whether to commit kamikaze or not tomorrow. I can’t fucking wait.
And if we don’t vote to down the pills and drink the Scotch, we can just prolong the agony for a few more weeks by watching an insane masochist clock up more air miles than a fucking Easy Jet Pilot doing overtime.
Just fucking revoke Article 50 for Christ’s sake, at least until we know what we’re doing.
What are you scared of, 18 yellow vest clad cunts smashing up a Currys?
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