I’ve been having a good think about the state of the Conservative Party in Britain. Two minutes it took me. Shower of flamin’ losers.
Lady Thatcher would be turning in her grave if she could see the mess this lot was in. If she was dead. To think that the party she led to three General Election wins can’t even organise a day’s outing to a distillery. Disgraceful.
There’s Iain Duncan-Thingy, the biggest loser since the last one. I can’t even bring myself to call him leader of the party because he wouldn’t make a lead for a dog. What was the point of getting rid of the baldy wee Yorkshire boy and replacing him with a double-barrelled baldy wet blanket? If they had just changed him over and kept the same name no-one would have noticed.
If anything, this one is even more boring than the last. Mrs Campbell in Harding Street had the telly on last week when I was backing up her waste pipe and Duncan-Thingy was droaning on and on about something or other. Next thing I knew I’d fallen asleep on the job and Mrs Campbell was far from happy. The man’s a bloody menace.
I see the Spaniard is causing trouble again. Why this Portillo bloke can’t just go back to Magaluf and be a waiter is beyond me. I’m sure he’d make a perfectly good waiter, if a little light on his feet. But oh no, first chance he gets he has to stir up the effluence. Any apprentice worth his solvent weld will tell you that if you continually stir the excrement then sooner or later you will get covered in the stuff. The sooner the better in the Spaniard’s case.
Then there’s this Theresa May who I used to think was one of those bits of tottie that the lads like looking at on page three of the Sun. Turns out this one’s a different sort altogether and we’d happily have a whip round for her to keep her gear on. Mind you, she is usually seen with some right tits. There’s that little Liam Fox chap. Five foot nothing and dandruff like a blizzard. There’s Michael Ancram. Six foot tall and dandruff like a blizzard. Then there’s… Well there’s bound to be others but I just can’t think of them. They need to bring back some of the old guard and give Blair and his cronies a kick in the Commons.
Bring back Maggie and Stormin Norman, Howard and Parkinson. Bring back Selwyn-Gummer and … okay let’s not go too far. But if something works once it will work again. If I had a pound for every time I’d sorted a leaking tap with a dod of chewing gum then I’d be plumbing in the Bahamas. And if it’s true in plumbing then it’s true in life.
Bring back Maggie. You know it makes sense. Even if she doesn’t.