Friday Fictioneers: Drunk Tank Politics

Morning Morning Morning, Covid has been and gone in our world thankfully and now all that is left is the residue of isolation, 2 more full days for me, this time on Friday I’ll be celebrating by going to work on a building site in Malvern, in the shadow of the hills (he said to make it sound both more mysterious and glamorous than it actually is) Any way as you can probably imagine I really am living someone else dream. Thanks Rochelle for keeping this ship afloat on the choppy waters of the pandemic, you know sometimes I wonder what life would be like without FF and I usually wake up screaming! Thanks to Sandra Crook for the photo, which reminds me, I must move to France or Spain in the future. Anyway lets see what gives.

On My Marks…

Get Set…


Joris, Gichael, Romininc, Racob and Hatt couldn’t believe their luck when they were made school prefects.

Tax the proles for cigarettes, make them turn up for Sunday Morning Parade, stood to attention while everyone is still in bed.

Then the drinking started, Martini at first, then Vodka. And as the booze flowed so they were swept along with the tide rising through the ranks, to university, to local and then national government.

And “FUCK ME”, they’re in charge, still drinking.

One by one they’re stumbling; the people are sobering up.

This is going to be one hell of an almighty hangover.

There we are 100 words on how I see our Government and the way it is running our country, I see no positive actions.


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