It’s been a long while since i’ve had a play at the FOTD by Cee, which of course stands for Fungus of the Day, as the whole country seems to be watching on as a government makes fun of breaking and bending the rules, I thought I’d rip up the rule book myself, there it is; a small fungus spotted this weekend on our daily yomp, the only thing that grows up here in the tundra of North Clifton.
So in the past there have been parties which I have been to and have no recollection of being present, clubs I’ve been to, houses I’ve woken up in, gardens i’ve found myself snoozing on the swing seat, bushes I’ve emerged from blinking into the sunlight and sleeping policemen I have been escorted home from, by an actual policeman, thats another story, but you’ll have to ask someone else because I wasn’t there. Until of course the witness confirms that i was actually there and then of course i’ll agree to it. The reason that I have missed out on the finer details of such events was that I would have been utterly arseholed on a dangerous cocktail of whatever booze there was to drink in the house or off my head on some sort of recreational pharmaceuticals, more than likely a little bit of both. This is a very important point when I try to differentiate my situation on failing to remember an attendance at a party and that of the man supposedly in charge of our country, who isn’t sure if he was at a garden party in the garden of his own house until a senior civil servant, Sue Grey, looks into it.
This is the latest in a disgraceful run of shambolic governance by this clusterfuck of a wretched group of men and women, making up the Tory party in England today. I met people like Mr Johnson when I was at school, entitled, selfish, making his way through boarding school by bullying those at a really base level, that level being money and connections. If you’ve got a smaller house than Mr Johnson and his degenerate bunch of friends; Fluffers to each others egos, spending obscene amounts of cash and showing off, that they can afford to spend the money. The constant belittling of everyone whom they believe to be beneath them, so ingrained into their personality, from a very young age. Eton does not breed gentlemen, no sir/madam, Eton churns out the worst kind of Porcine men, snouts in the trough, trampling over everyone and anyone to feed aplenty slavering over the rest of us in the pursuit of riches. It doesn’t make them happy, just further accentuates the gap between us and them. So if not riches, then why not privileges, why not freedoms. Taking away our freedom during lockdown in order to save lives and protect the NHS, draconian measures but necessary, and they just threw it back in our faces, having parties in 10 Downing Street during these bleak times, God knows there’s probably hundreds of parties undiscovered in manor houses happening all over the countryside during lockdown, we just don’t know yet, but we do know, don’t we?
The past years have been especially catastrophic in politics, with scandal after scandal, Christ MPs would have been locked in the tower for less in years gone by, and I’m not advocating capital punishment, well nothing more than Tarring and feathering the whole lot, taking their money and giving it back to the NHS. Its amazing how there has been such a delay in dealing with these charlatans who wave their arms about and patronise us with their platitudes while sticking the V’s up at us in our face. Hidden in plain sight, Brazen. Johnson with his cronies, moving like a murder of scavenging crows pecking at one of their own squashed onto the road, none of them willing to speak up against their chuckleheaded leader, a man of terrible character, no question. The only question remaining is how can any of these subservient fucks survive when Johnson has gone? They’ve voted for him and stuck with him throughout this shit show and so are seen to think exactly like him.
Destroy and accumulate; the mantra of the “Fuck Decency, Fuck Morals, Ethics, Foreigners, Decent Working People, The NHS, Cohesive society, Fairness” Tory Party of today.
I am sick of it, we are the global laughing stock, until maybe tomorrow when surely things will start to unravel for the Prick who cant dress himself suitably in a suit yet, maybe he’ll remember he was at the party rather than have his mates tell him he was and he tried to snog Lynn Truss.