Now, I am no expert on suicide vests, alas one can confirm the PM
probably haven’t tried one on for size and if he did, there’s no proof he
decorated his immediate vicinity with innards and piffle spit – of the
knowledge he’s still in one piece, and likely to be governing the Nation into a
phase that historians will in the future call: ‘What The Johnson Happened Then!’ However long Johnson’s tenure,
there’s a cocksure chance cartoons will hop around in suicide vests and
sporadically explode then miraculously reform as if nothing happened and letterboxes
will be going around saying: ’do I look
alright in this outfit, or is it too Rod Stewart?’ Before long they’ll be a naked Boris Johnson
(to scale) standing in Leicester Square so that young bank clerks can throw
their undies at. The one who manages to
fling a pair of knickers so it lands on his simian head gets a chance to win a
date with the newly divorced PM.
Obviously, the role of being the new PM will be demanding, no such time
for dalliances and making effusive speeches for Birthday Parties, for blonde,
flirty thirty year-olds. Far greater national quests await Johnson as he
grapples with the authoritarian cables of power, what with creating crazy gang of Brexiters to fudge the
last furlong of the Article 50 timeline. One hundred days of clotting fudging
and bigotry before reaching the cliff-edge….. Notably, the promise land of the
52%! Thank goodness we’ve stockpiled for
the past six months for the Nation needs medicine, a first aid kit, ropes,
Prosecco and a tent to weather the descent from March 30th 2019.
We’ll be grateful for Boris’s Churchillian-styled oratory during these
difficult months to cheer us all up and say: ‘trust Boris to gift us inane joviality as we eat from out of date tins
of tasteless mush…’ and we’ll all be
laughing at the French again gorging on their putrid cheeses - Smelly bastards.
In Churches across the land, our clergy
folk will be praising the straight banana for the EU discriminated against them
for over four decades.
Phone-ins, like for example, whether letterboxes should have passports would be deemed intellectual
debate. Ultimately, our simian
chest-thumping protectionists may pour scorn at the deformed concept of
allowing letterboxes actual liberties, and prize open a comment Boris Johnson
said in regards to the Chequers proposal: ‘Under
the Chequers proposal we are set to agree to accept their rules – forever –
with no say on the making of those rules. It is a humiliation. We look like a
seven-stone weakling being comically bent out of shape by a 500lb gorilla.’ You may notice the nonsensical aspect, because
when discourse enters the realm of letterbox privileges, dysfunction encroaches
on all of us. This is the art of Boris;
his use of metaphor not only warps the subject area beyond comprehension it
morphs into truth for his followers. They now visualise the EU as a 500lb
gorilla and have embarked on throwing sticks at the hirsute beast at the EU /
UK Press Conferences -- and furthermore, suicide vests sales have shot up not
due to self-inflicted Brexit misery but due to believing they’re a fashion
statement.
Ironically, in the Autumn Sajid Javid stifled a chortle in regards to
the ‘suicide vest’ comment; his measured response implying Johnson should think
carefully about his language – odd considering that it wasn’t a throw away
comment verbally expressed in gusto, it
was written…. carefully considered to the maximum and to a protectionist
mind-set by which epitomises the Tories, to the book. Language that erred
into the ideology Theresa May repeatedly caving in over Brexit terms to the EU
and to the chief negotiator Barnier. You understand why several months later
Boris Johnson had changed communicative tact and approached feline communications
instead; a wise move for it preoccupied Barnier completely. Apparently,
Brussels were in total shock and the British Press applauded Johnson’s
negotiating glib… headlines like: ‘EU
are a bunch of pussies’ and ‘Catastrophe for Barnier’ echoed the media streams
and LBC even got in feline experts Rula Lenska and George Galloway to comment.
At what point did Boris become Prime Minister you may ponder? Well, it all started from a caller from
Yorkshire who mentioned it on ‘Jeremy Vine On 5.’ She sincerely said: ‘Boris has to be our next PM and Rees Mogg
has to be our next Chancellor…’ And
there you could say is history. Theresa May
reportedly chased Boris with a broom and Boris ran into Number Ten and slammed
the Brexit door on her; causing her to lose her balance in her leopard skin
shoes and she landed in the garbage , presumably seeing EU stars circling her
head. Shouts of ‘traitor’ could be heard to the milky moon and back. Naturally,
the Right-Wing Press jumped on May like Tigger
calling her; Treason May and so-forth and then on the third day the oracle;
namely, Jacob Rees-Mogg also known as ‘Moggmentum’
declared Boris who was physically skin and bone and dreaming of a M&S
supper was trapped inside Number Ten (afraid to open the door and get greeted
by an angry broom) that the ‘right person
occupies Number Ten.’ Clever proxy politics by Rees-Mogg for he never said
Boris should be Prime Minster et al; and months on Rees-Mogg still looks as
bemused as everyone else at the calamity he has caused. Call it fate, Johnson
remained in Number Ten -- and so far no other Tory MP has thrown in their
leadership contender hat into the quagmire ring they created. Time is ticking
says Barnier; then again in ‘ol Blighty
the cartoon time ticks backwards and the cuckoo flew from the clock over two
years ago.
When it comes to caricature delusions, anything goes and you can bet it has
an irritating habit of poking its manic head where it’s not wanted and it
derives from a wacko endorsement PM Johnson backed claiming 350 Million GBP per
week will be pumped into the NHS. The prosecution case is built upon misconduct
in public office contrary to the common law we abide to. If PM Johnson is found
guilty, the offence carries a maximum sentence of life imprisonment. Never fear though, I suspect Lewis Power QC
of Church Court Chambers in London has purely written the 48K page document
just for entertainment sake and has jumped into the cartoon world feet first.
As it so happens over 2K people have funded this part of the prosecution
animation to keep the cartoon running; believing that PM Johnson should be sent
to prison. We’re now waiting for Jessica Rabbit to make an appearance of the
alleged sordid claim PM Johnson also played Roger Rabbit., this breaches the
archaic Looney Tunes contractual
terms (1969) and epitomizes an inglorious Eton Mess.
That’s not all folks!
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