Like Rumplestiltskin I awoke from a dream into a nightmare! What calamity is this! What has befallen this once great nation? Who is that smug posh git standing on the wreckage of society? Oh, it’s him, the same jammy dodger who schmoozed his way into number 10 five years ago the way a shark schmoozes it’s way into a paddling pool.
Ian Duncan Smith – the quietest sadist since Colonel Gaddafi left the world with a reminder up his … – is now entrusted with amputating the caring society from the Raft of Medusa before throwing it’s withered stump into the above mentioned kiddie’s pool. (not a prospect that anyone who’s ever been a Lifeguard or had to clean out a public baths would want to contemplate).
While the 3 or 4 divided nations settled into a night of predictable outcomes, they woke to see their tattered ensign shimmying down the greasy pole, scuttling toward the nearest tailors, and flogging the ragged remains of the family silver down the river. A murky Thames, clogged with silt from years of paddling it’s slave ship treasures to the outsourced kingdom on Nondomica.
Meanwhile somewhere in France:
Le Pen mightier than Le Merde as Father causes shit storm for FN’ing daughter!