Part of me wants us to crash out so I can say ‘I told you so’ to the fucking looters in 12 months time

Part of me wants us to crash out so I can say ‘I told you so’ to the fucking looters in 12 months time

20th March 2019 0 By Tuckered

As we peer into oblivion, still as clueless as we were 1000 days ago but panicking like an 80’s DJ on hearing the words ‘fresh DNA’, I find myself willing the train to come off the tracks more than ever.

I’m sick of it all. Sick of Treeza’s stupid, deluded face, contorted into a perpetual expression of shock, as she scans the Commons during her daily go fuck yourself sessions.

They’re all insane aren’t they? All 600 odd of them. You’re not. You’ve got a deal. You’re the Prime Minister! Why won’t they do as they’re told?

I’m sick of the indecisiveness and the embarrassment it brings.

Fucking Europe, we’ve told them what we don’t want, so what’s the fucking problem? Smug cunts.

But mostly I’m sick of the gloaters. The winners, the insufferable ‘get on with it!’ ‘leave means leave’ cunts.

I don’t know what’s worse, two more years of this bloated Leviathan of cuntery chugging along and slowly tearing British democracy apart, or hearing ‘you lost, we won, get over it’ from dual toothed fuckwits as they rob me at knife point for eggs, until the US finally takes pity on us and fucking nukes us out of our misery.

I dunno, fuck it. Let’s just do it. Grab a couple of shovels and a torch, and you can help me dig up my grandparents so we can ask them all about this Blitz spirit shit. We’ll be reet.

Or, just maybe those experts were right? I hope so, I can suffer a bit of hard ship if it means I can tell the Brexiter who’s nicking my front door for fire wood in 12 months that he was fucking wrong all along.