Brexit: Time To Kill The Parrot

% of readers think this story is Fact. Add your two cents.

He is a parrot. His feet have been nailed to the perch of his gilded cage to make him seem a thoroughly upright sort of chap, but he is ethically dead. His morals have ceased to be. He is no more than what he started out as, which was less than nothing. He is a soon-to-be ex-Prime Minister who was never more than a parrot.

He is not a resting parrot, he is a parrot who should be arrested. He is an abbreviation for a parrot, that is, a pr. He  could not even get a leg up on a level playing field without using his ghastly mother-in-law to get him a job. He is a bird of staggeringly little brain, and in that respect is the heir to Blair by being a featherweight dinosaur whose bird-calls of big society, high speed trains and safe Health Services are so much bollocks.

He would sell his kingdom for a bourse.

He would sell Waspis down the river.

He would sell the National Anthem for a song.

He will sell us out.

He is past his sell-by date.

He should be sold off for lapdog food.

But soon enough, he will be marketed and repackaged as an Elder Statesman.

If you are of the leftwards persuasion, voting Brexit will make Cameron’s fall from power a certainty….and most of Camerlot with him. On the way, however, the Conservative Party will be ruptured, and a coordinated Labour/SNP opposition will be able to keep what’s left of the Government on close watch 24/7. Britain will not sign the TTIP,  which would transfer yet more power from labour to capital. We can continue to trade with Europe (German exports would collapse without us anyway), realign ourselves with the Commonwealth and emerging nations, and retrain Britain’s lost generation to revitalise UK manufacturing exports.

Alistair ‘he makes it all up’ Campbell has been asking Brexiteers where the plan is. Well, that’s it. And if you think it’s not possible, then take a look at Iceland.

Right, that’s that sorted. Good morning, by the way. It’s 12°, grey and drizzly here; tomorrow is the 1st of June. Vote Brexit, and you will never have to salute Camerlot or eat sprouts again. The weather will get better, Waspis will get pensions, England will win the World Cup, Katie Hopkins will vapourise, and then there will be three wise men from Leyton Orient and a new star in the evening sky.

You have my word as a non-politician on all of this.