Bloody Tories look after the fat cats

17 Sep 2015 at 18:12

I am beginning to feel rather sorry for Jeremy Corbyn who is giving a passable impression of being chief mourner at his own protracted political funeral. If someone had submitted a storyline of what is happening within Labour for a film it would be spiked for being too phantasmagoric. Rule one. If you are a party leader at least sort out the clap and laughter lines in a speech and brief the press beforehand. Rule two. Don’t be allow yourself to be photographed with backdrops which make you look foolish. Rule three. Ignore the press at your peril. It’s a dog and lamppost relationship which works both ways. Rule four. Don’t put yourself in any position where the press can accuse you of insulting national treasures. The National Anthem fiasco could have been easily avoided. Rule five. Do not appoint seriously divisive and off the wall politicians who will give glorious copy to your enemies in the press. Rule 6. If your shadow chancellor goes on record as wanting to ‘lynch a bitch’ who happens to be one of your back benchers make him grovel an arse licking apology or sack the sexist dinosaur.
Rule 7. If who have had sex with someone as monumentally irritating as Diane Abbott let the nation know ASAP; there will be waves of sympathy for you. Well, he’s got one out of seven.

While we are on the subject of Ms A, her little spat with Jess Phillips was rather revealing. Jess had the temerity to ask Jezz a tricky question. Ms A called her sanctimonious. Jess told her to fuck off, and off she fucked. Now the wicked Jess is revealed as a class traitor. She supports the apostasy of the renewal of Trident. Imagine if someone with a penis (whether in working order or not) had told Abbott to fuck off the sisters would lynch the sexist bastard oppressing member of the phallocracy.

Even at the height of the influence of EU hating loony tunes fuck up bunnies, who put the Tories in the wilderness for a generation, I have never seen such total abject misery in a political party. At PMQs yesterday it wasn’t fin de si├Ęcle, it was the end of the road and that road leads to a cliff edge.The idea that questions should be put by the public looks great on paper but in reality it is a political disaster and a gift to Cameron. All he has to do is look like a Prime Minister, be gentle, kind and spout departmental briefs. There are no stings in the tail from the public, no killer questions. And if there are all Cameron has to do is look compassionate and concerned and invite them to write to him. Where the wheels will come off the Corbyn approach is when aides will fake up or doctor questions to give their boss a bit of bite. But these sorts of japes are nearly always found out. And the press will have a field day.

I didn’t see much of PMQs yesterday as I was in court. But it was duller than a Bill Cash speech, which sets a very high bar (or is it bore?). The only highlight was Andrew Turner the Tory MP for the Isle of Wight whose only claim to fame is reported complicated domestic arrangements. Poor Andrew is never going to set the Thames on fire, nor probably even his AGA . He asked a question about the wicked Belgians who are detaining a tiger which belongs to his local zoo because of the fear of spreading rabies. Spotted the flaw in the Belgian argument yet? Well here we go. If a rabid tiger bites you rabies are the least of your problems. The tiger has come for tea. Not even a grumble from that ghastly old fraud Dennis Skinner of, ‘bloody Tories, they only want to look after the fat cats’. And then Cameron delighted us with a tale about a fecund Rhino named after his daughter Nancy. Well, it’s better than being called Spearmint. Hang on, Andrew is famous for something. In 2006 he was strolling round the Isle of Wight Show with his dog Pickles when something rather unfortunate happened. Pickles took a fancy to one of his master’s constituent’s polecats, shook it to death and eat it. In politics I always thought that it was dogs that eat dogs. But unlike Norman Tebbit this polecat was trained.

But briefly back to Corbyn. The brothers have already lined up a replacement just in case Corbyn loses his political purity. Step forward Lisa Nandy, the Ann of Cleavage from the left. And she doesn’t even deny it! Oh well, it’s probably just a storm in a D cup.