William of Slavata and Jaroslav of Martinic survived the Defenestration of
Prague, cushioned by a dung heap. What will save Gordon Brown’s skin?
Every time I switch on the television these days, or browse the BBC and other news websites, it’s all nutters going apeshit in the corridors of Westminster, bollock-breaking spin doctors in Millbank, slaphead political correspondents wetting themselves with joy, cake-scoffing Tory MPs guffawing as only they know how, and enough political farce to make a grown cynic break down and cry.
Look, I know he’s good, but do we really need Armando Iannucci writing the entire script in this general election year? There can be too much of a good thing, you know.
Jeezus wept, mun, it looks like we are going to suffer months of this crap! Better a never-ending recitation of snow depths from across the land, a succession of lazy feckers speaking to camera about how they absolutely cannot get to work, and video clips of cars sliding all over the place.
Why I returned to these godforsaken isles I have absolutely no idea. Maybe I should just build a secure den and hibernate for the duration. Wake me up in June.