Note: I am not the Devil!
I've been fascinated by all the jiggery-pokery about Gorgon Brownshirt and his merry men all lining themselves up for a great big feast of mutual back-stabbing, careful-phrasing and generally all-round cuntwaftery.
And I don't mind telling you, I really am not in the slightest bit impressed.
What has the business of politics come to when everything depends on the level of sophistry and nth-degree-analysis of what was said and, more importantly, what was not said. And who said it, and at what time, and what aftershave he was wearing and so on and so forth.
For fuck's sake you cunts: you're supposed to be running the fucking country, not a fucking student union! Have none of you fuckers got the courage of your convictions? Is no-one going to just fucking stand up and say what they mean, plainly and clearly? Let your yea be your yea and your nay be your nay?
Anybody still got their principles*?
What is this shit? How the fuck are we supposed to have any fucking confidence in your ability to a) run the country; b) report the facts and c) achieve anything when you're spending your entire day pondering the implications of what wasn't said?
Labour politicians: shit, or get off the fucking pot.
Media analysts: Stop pandering to this cockmongering.
Let's stop fucking about and get on with stuff: there's a fucking recession on, remember? Cunts.
* You do remember what principles are, don't you?
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