And Then, No Smear Here….

There’s been all kinds of hyper-drive smeary stuff in the MSM, for what seems like for ever now, regarding that pesky upstart of a political party led by that guy wass-is-name, Nearly Normal Nigel Mirage. Boy, our betters don’t like the idea of him or his party posing any sort of threat to their present cosy system do they? Heavens to Mergatroyd!! Their bubble may be deflated or even popped!!

Now Mr Mirage, according to an ace Daily Telegraph headline writer, has been “..attacked with an egg…” Could’ve been worse I guess; an egg whisk. Or attacked by an egg. Really, attacked with an egg? Attacked? Gimme strength.

In view of the furore over this political party, may I humbly offer my view of how I see it all? From the perspective of a simpleton you understand.  No? Okay, here’s some music for the ‘No’s’ then. It’s a catchy little number for our current Prime Sinister now he’s caught a little religion. The photographs where, I believe, taken recently and randomly of several MP’s of all parties during a recess, or, as we would call it, playtime, down at the Pancake of West-mincemeat.   Sing along there Dave!! {Are there some scary folk in there or wot?}

Hello? Anyone left? If so, here’s an unalogy... un anology... an unholy… an anan.... a story with some slight similarities;

If you were the owner of a night club and one particularly busy Saturday night you looked out over the dance floor and bars and noticed it was absolutely heaving with humanity you’d rightly be delighted and your head would be filled with the happy sound of ringing cash registers, right?

However, the more you surveyed the seething throng the more you became conscious of a creeping sense of unease and foreboding. Could big trouble be brewing down there?

You call your Chief of Security - head bouncer to us - up to the office and enquire how things are shaping up down there in the belly of the beast.

He informs you that his boys are managing to ‘hold the line’ but as the place is so full, with much jostling, pushing bumping and shoving resulting in several spilled drink shouts of ‘Hay watch it pal!’, things were getting a tad stressful and tensions were starting to run high. He also respectfully points out that folk are still flocking in.

“Okay, got ya’,” says you to bouncy boy, “So this is what we’re going to do right now. Get some of the boys and head out front, close the doors and tell everyone outside we’re full so we’re shut.”
“So no one else can come in at all then Boss?”
“I’ll get to that. Then tell your boys that at the slightest hint - and I mean the slightest hint - of any trouble - and I mean any trouble, those responsible are to be instantly ejected. Oh, and include any of their buddies who rush up and start shouting, ‘Hay, you can’t do that!’ Okay?”
“Got ya.”
“Got ya’ what?”
”Boss.”
“Good. Now, back to your question. For every ten folk we have to eject, we’ll let two in from out front. In that way, over a little time, we’ll be back to a safe, manageably happy balance. Is that cool or wot?”
“Oh, yess!! Super cool!”
”Super cool what?”
”Boss,”
“Good. Right, let’s get going before we can’t even see the fan for what’s hit it......”

Quote;  Gore Vidal.

“Today's public figures can no longer write their own speeches or books, and there is some evidence that they can't read them either.”