Morgan’s tongue wedged so firmly up Trump’s arse he can taste Big Macs and covfefe
With the fate of the UK resting on the edge of a knife held by a malfunctioning Maggie-Bot 2.0, even hardened Brexiters are asking themselves if this is Sovereignty, do they still fucking want it.
Parliament has descended into a giant game of musicless chairs, a last minute forever vote with MPs squawking in and out of chambers like a battery farm packed to the rafters with cunts.
We’re treated to nightly 7pm news bulletins with shots of them walking in and out of rooms with all the rigor of a student who’s done fuck all on assignment day.
It’s like watching the last 20 minutes of Goodfellas without the coke, and the sauce hasn’t even been stirred once.
Don’t get too depressed though, gammon king and voicemail aficionado, Piers Morgan, has a solution.
Donald Trump! Obviously, why didn’t we think of that? In Morgan’s own words he wouldn’t take any shit from Europe or Parliament.
He’s absolutely right of course, that tiny-handed, piss enthusiast only takes shit from Russian whores, allegedly.
Fucking Donald Trump though. Aren’t we in enough of a mess without that luminous gimp interfering like he’s like he’s back stage at a fucking Miss. World pageant?
Get your tongue out of his arse Morgan, you fucking lipless, toe faced, cunt.