Thursday 22 September 2016

Keith Vaz fiddles while his balls burn.

Everyone knew that Keith Vaz has an unquenchable lust for publicity, not so many realised he has an equally passionate liking for rent boys, preferably in pairs, but unlike at Tesco’s I doubt he gets two for the price of one, or any discount as a frequent user.
The first question is what was he playing at although one can guess what it was he was playing with, the man is definitely getting above his station. Vaz born in Yemen came to our shores at an early age, and yet here he is carrying on as if he were a Bullingdon Club Tory toff, the man is a Labour MP for gawd’s sake, if anything he should have been screwing the cleaning lady who could then have sold her story to the Sunday newspapers. Satisfaction all round. A life on the bum is OK in certain social circles, but those realms are far above what Vaz could legitimately aspire to. Had he fiddled around at the back of the bus shelter, there may have been leeway for social redemption, but no, he had to perform his version of the buggers opera a flat he happened to have going spare, who did the pretentious sod think he was? Tony Blair? Who at least had the good taste to have a rumble with Murdoch’s missus, but as she is a woman Vaz would have undoubtedly found something missing.
As a former chairman of a committee investigating vice, out hero has garnered invaluable insight into areas others are not party to, but was it necessary to plumb such depths? Work experience is one thing, but blowing a rent boys trumpet is surely a toot too far.

Hey diddle diddle, Keith Vaz had a fiddle,
With two rent boys who trousered the cash,
He buggerd them rough,
Until all had enough,
Then went down with the clap and a rash

Monday 5 September 2016

A TOUCH OF CLASS.

There is no denying it, try as one may, but social background defines a Brit, ‘twas ever so and forever will, especially in politics where class is a sure-fire compass to the direction of advancement, but things are not so strait forward as may be supposed. In some of the more elevated circles of the profession it does not pay to be posh, oh Lordy no.
Let’s take the Tories. David Cameron and his cronies busted a collective gut in pretending to be common, nobody actually swallowed that nonsense, but at least they tried, despite having posh wives, posh houses and inherited wealth, unfortunately that did not prevent them getting the bums rush after the recent referendum. The new intake to the realms of government are a different kettle of fish altogether, down market would be one way of putting it, council house crap would be another, not a genuine doff amongst the lot of them, makes one ashamed to be British.
However, we can always rely on the good old Labour party to maintain standards, which is why Owen Smith will not be elected their new leader, the fatuous Welsh git is as common as a fart in a cow shed, so, let us look a little closer at the peoples party and see what they have loaded on to the offering plate.
I could do worse than to start with Michael Meacher, who took vociferous objection to being labelled middle class despite falling off his perch leaving behind five million quid to his heirs and successors, one could buy an entire council estate with that sort of dosh, but we must not pick nits no matter how much they leave behind.
Now let’s get to the star players. Harriet Harman, related to an Earl no less, naturally she tries to play this down and everyone pretends to go along with the pantomime, but our Hattie is the full Monty, which is why Diane Abbot can not stand the sanctimonious bitch.
Last we come to the star of the show, the next leader of the Labour Party and Prime Minister of England, Jeremy Corbyn, who has the word posh branded on his bum, after all, he was born in a manor house and went to prep school, the clincher? He has a brother called Piers, working class boys do not have brothers called Piers, Sid or Bert yes, but Piers? Never. The man is a shoo in to lead the party of social equality.
So. There you have it folks, Jeremy will give us the ruling class we all cherish and which them common bloody Tories have so casually thrown away. Come the next election Vote Labour and bugger the working class.