Your Daily Word Prompt and FOWC, bed partners stretching across this little corner of the internet.
Here in Blighty we have become Accustomed of late to hideous wrong doings within our government. Not a day seems to pass in this Prime Minister’s tenure where a vote is lost or a scandal is opened, who is stabbing who in the back, who is going to get the flack for a right royal fuck up; which of course these past few weeks have been, especially today where it has been found that Boris Johnson, our bloody prime minister, who is in peril of being the UK’s shortest and least successful serving PM in modern times, was found guilty of lying to the Queen, of misleading her to shut down or Prorogue parliament so as he wouldn’t have to answer any tricky questions in the run up to crashing out of Europe without a deal with our European friends, which I don’t think you’re allowed to do. What, I wonder would be the punishment for asking a Queen to do something which is illegal? Maybe thumb screws, maybe an iron mask and throw him in the tower?
Let’s just say his prorogue requisition appearance in front of the Queen hasn’t gone as well as could be expected, certainly a shambles wouldn’t be too wide of the mark. How the hell are we to trust this foppish oaf going forward? Along with the leader of the house; Jacob Rees Mogg, who’s Debut appearance in front of her Maj was also similarly catastrophic, I hope he falls off a ladder in his library trying to reach his special stash of 1980’s Razzle mags (he’s not the DIY type, relating to his ladder, but he is a wanker relating to Razzle, which coincidentally was the name of my daughter’s now deceased G-Pig). Anyway I hope he falls off his ladder and sprains his ankle really really badly, or better still; a grade 3 ligament sprain. He can’t get to work and he loses his job, then his butler walks out in disgust at the fact that Mogg prides himself on never changing one of his 6 children’s nappies. If he wants a cup of tea he has to hop to the kettle, make his own brew and then realising that he can’t take the tea anywhere to drink because the hopping makes him spill it and so he has to sit on the cold stone kitchen floor. He will then get hideous piles and to make ends meet has to go on that awful TV programme “Embarrassing Bodies” and the whole nation ends up seeing Mogg’s battleground of an arse, whilst he tries to protest that “Do we know who he is?” as the TV doctor (not really a doctor but a sadist) probes with a sharpened spoon.
This probably won’t happen, mores the pity, but lets face it our politics is fucked, rotten and a massive kick up a pile dappled arse would probably do us good.