THE WORKING CLASS CAN KISS MY ARSE.

Oh joy. Oh rapture. What you may ask is it that has excited my enthusiasm? And transformed this placid, unemotional being, the face you all know which I habitually present to the World, into this incontinent bundle of irrational joy spilling onto these pages. Yes, I am about to fulfil my most cherished ambition, after a lifetime of yearning, I can at last join the Communist Party. You will undoubtedly wonder why I have waited so long to requite my love for the comrades. Easy, there was no way I could have associated myself with all those common pricks, but now it is all change over at commie land, and about time to.

The Communist Party has finally surrendered to its rightful masters, the proles have been booted out and the upper classes have taken control of the organisation, which is the natural state of affairs, do not forget the example of the hereditary Russian nobleman Vladimir Ulyanov, he put the plebs in their place and kept them there, which is as things should be. Never forget that the lower classes are for talking about not listened to. Listen to the buggers and you will end up with democracy, and we all know where that ends up, don’t we boys and girls? and them what can’t make their minds up, stop reading and join the Lib Dems, who do not think but read the Guardian instead.

This change in direction was signalled recently by a jamboree held at the Marx memorial library, the star attraction was the opener by Susan Mitchie who kicked things off with the phrase “We the working class”. Now Sue, the Madame Roland of the movement has a few other names etched on her belt, one of which is Dorinthea. Dorinthea, how working class can you get? You do not gat many Dorintheas down Bethnal green way, but hell this is the Communist Party of Great Britain and we all know how the Brits worship a touch of class, providing of course it is the genuine article and not some Islington ponce with delusions of grandeur, that lot are better off with Jeremy Corbin over at the labour party, but as for our Dorinthea, she is the genuine article, her grandfather was a baron and her old woman left fifty million smackers in her will.

What you may ask would such an individual know about the working class? Plenty. With such a background the woman would have grown up surrounded by servants, I doubt that she has ever changed a roll of bog paper by herself in her entire life. Believe me she knows all about the working class and she would not hesitate to sack a flunky who forgot to bow when she walked into the room. You have to give it to Dorinthea and her ilk, they know how to keep the lower orders in their place, which is entirely as it should be.

Then there is the husband, no horny son of toil he, the bugger’s in Debrett for god’s sake, and works in Jeremy Corbin’s office. Talk about incest, but then that’s the upper classes for you, keep it in the family as the tradition goes, they never could resist a bit of inbreeding, screwing each other while screwing the country. By the way she gave her better half the elbow in 2016.

So, there you have it, Socialism a la Brit, nothing like it anywhere else, for which we should all be truly thankful. But now the Communist party has given itself a social hoovering I feel confident That I can join up. The only problem is would they have me? The comrades are now so posh, and here am I, as common as dog’s bollocks at Crufts.