by ragingcrip

Few people talk about eggs with more wisdom than the fuckwit Edwina Currie. Its not surprising that the venomous Tory could not resist taking a swipe at the striking midwifes: The Tory may have had the wherewithal not to appear on Strictly Come Dancing unlike Anne Widicombe, but despite her ordinary background: this dingleberry hates poor people. Here’s some words from the posh trout: “I get very, very troubled at the number of people who are using food banks who think that it’s fine to pay to feed their dog, their dog is in good nick and beautiful, but they never learn to cook, they never learn to manage and the moment they’ve got a bit of spare cash they’re off getting another tattoo. We should feel cross about this, all of us.” How dare you have a fucking pet, you piece of working class shit? And you say the dog is in good health? Do you know how much a pint costs now? I can actually feel the froth appear on my lips. OJ says she manufactures outrage for money: In the neoliberal world everything is topsy turvy, but despite the illusions it doesn’t take a genius to know what way the wind is blowing. In this great robbery, they know the wind stinks of shit.

The blood sucking arse Farage said a remarkable thing the other day, it was a rare moment of truth for the privileged pretender. I never attributed the ghastly nob Carswell as having a sense of humour, but he inflicted a McFlurry on the oily cunt Farage. The arse may have been grinning maniacally but he didn’t enjoy poor man’s food. He goes “I am a bit nervous as I am never photographed without a pint in my hand”: cannot find the link now, Still, at least he ate the cookie unlike the vulture Romney:

These days my hatred for UKIP is tempered. This is because politically I can see Tory fear. I can detect their rotten stink. Tories know their biggest Achilles’ heel is the evil Heath and Social Care act. Anonymous Tory grandees are spitting bullets: The bastard Reckless could lead to an intensification of class war, the posh boy could trigger a leadership contest, it only takes 46 Tories to get it going: Actually its long overdue, Tories carry knives, they stab each other in the back willy nilly, but during the DC project they have been unified, even when Tory Nadine Dories spoke with alarming truth and clarity: The establishment would love to deny ordinary people a voice in the leadership debates: Let’s assume that through the crisis in Labour, the surge of SNP and through general ignorance UKIP forms a nasty coalition with the Tories, then how long will the NHS last? UKIP plans over the NHS are well known: In the words of Berlin: “There may be trouble ahead” – but don’t expect the mediocrities to have a plan.

Decent people have an inherent love of fairness. Decent people think this government is disgusting. Decent people look at DC, at fuckwit IDS, at grotesque Pickles, at vicious May, and they think – you bunch of fucking freaks. Now the gagging bill is in place, the midwives are striking and oily tick Farage is pretending to enjoy a McFlurry, the wheels are falling off the machine. But its no big deal to the mean, spiteful nebbishes in charge. Its about ignoring the iceberg even as we collide, just keep shuffling the fucking deck chairs. It was always the neoliberal ideal to make a quick buck and damn the consequences. That’s right Mr Farage – keep stuffing the McFlurry in your gob.

Hang on – there’s someone we’ve forgotten – its the debauched greedy dick-head Bojo. Surely Bojo can rescue the UK from its maelstrom? With his shiny buses, his useless cable car and his clownish demeanour I know that Bojo, would get my vote if I lived in Ruislip: You see – Boris understands people – the great klutz is in the same populist bandwagon as ponce Farage. He knows all you have to do is pull silly faces, wave your cock around a bit, say a posh line in an eccentric voice and the people believe in you. You see Boris cares about the NHS. Thats why the cheery bastard talks to Lord Darzi:

Actually – now we have started talking about the NHS I had better interrupt myself to talk about the ivory tower. Duchess Kate has been sick, at least with the socialism for the bloated elite she can expect some help at her most stressful time. A family friend takes over: “She is not at all well, the poor thing. When you’re ill, the place you feel most comfortable is at home with your mum, isn’t it? When she’s there, Kate can just relax and sit on the sofa and not have to worry about having to deal with all the staff and everything else that comes with a palace full of big rooms.”