I note with very little interest that the boy Clegg, last of the Klingons, has called for the possibility of legalizing certain drugs. This, to me, is just further proof that these boys need to get out more.
I guess these young lads are whisked from important meeting to important meeting by chauffer driven, black windowed, important looking limousine, round ring roads, right?
Instead, wouldn't it be nice if he and and his ilk, one-by-one, could be dropped off, alone, in any city centre in the country with the driver smilingly saying, "There ya' go. I'll pick you up here in three hours. Enjoy."
If they could stick it out without screaming down their Blackberries for a rescue chopper after fifteen minutes, managed to explore some of the byways and ally-ways and after observing and attempting to converse with the general populace, they may well come to the conclusion that drugs appear to be as good as legal already so they're pretty much wasting their time. Sorry, wasting more of their time.
Come on boys, get back to the important stuff. Stuff that'll put the country back on the road to recovery and greatness. Stuff like gay marriage. Yeah, that made me laugh. What? Really? At a time like this? Oh, come on, they've gotta be kidding, right? Please tell me they're kidding. No? Gimme strength.
Anyhoo young Clegg, after your tea tonight, when you've washed behind your ears, brushed your teeth and you're all tucked up in bed with teddy, that's your ol' teddy bear and nothing to do with the previous paragraph, whip out your tablet, that's a small computer and nothing to do with the previous paragraph, and have a listen to wot's below.
Good night – sleep tight – don't let the bedbugs bite. And that's got nothing to do with the last paragraph.
Quote; W. C. Fields.
"I always keep a stimulant handy in case I see a snake, which I also keep handy."
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