Johnson & Sunak

Zahawi - who claimed heating for his stables as an expense - in charge of the govt’s spending.

Quoted from Humbercod

Johnson can still survive he has one last throw of the dice come out and give us a true Conservative leader. Cut the fuel duty, tax cuts, wokism, drop this carbon neutral net zero bollox, and have the guts to deal with the illegal invaders, ignore the EU courts, ignore the lefty human rights sponging lawyers, and stand up to the little french Napoleon wannabe. He’s now in for 10 years.
Personally I don’t think he has the Will, so looks like to me he’s on the way out, but for the love of god I hope he proves me wrong.

Surely this is satire?
The Tory MPs can see he’s lost, a few will stick by him for one last feed at the trough, they know the trust has gone,  Johnson is trashing his own party, he will cling on as long as he can but his time is up, the Tories are ruthless when someone is an electoral liability

It will tak a stake through the heart at full moon delivers by a virgin to get rid of Boris.Not sure we are there yet

There have been a few more resignations tonight. Not heavyweights, but the momentum is gathering.

The Tories will get rid because all they want is to be in power and Bojo can no longer deliver an election victory. Those front benchers backing him are aware that they have been promoted far beyond their talents and will be gone the minute he is, so they have no choice.

I mean, c'mon, Dominic Raab is deputy Prime Minister. The mind boggles at the heights to which that chinless wonder has risen. He has the IQ of a biscuit.

Quoted from Humbercod

Cut the fuel duty, tax cuts, wokism,

I’m not sure why you are dragging poor Ken Hom OBE into this?

I realise you are an immigration sceptic but Ken’s wok seems like small fry to me.

I admit  made a mistake in voting for the   conman  last time.

I wont make the same mistake again

Quoted from Humbercod

Johnson can still survive he has one last throw of the dice come out and give us a true Conservative leader. Cut the fuel duty, tax cuts, wokism, drop this carbon neutral net zero bollox, and have the guts to deal with the illegal invaders, ignore the EU courts, ignore the lefty human rights sponging lawyers, and stand up to the little french Napoleon wannabe.

I must admit, I’m getting Trainspotting vibes from you there Humbercod…all I’m hearing is…

‘Choose life. Choose big fûckin tax cuts for the rich elite and multi-national corporations. Choose a non-dom tax status in a sunny tax haven. Choose 4.0 litre V6 Range Rovers with a fückin mahogany dash, ivory coated gear knôbs and seats stitched by slaves. Choose to eat or heat. Choose to use a food bank. Choose to believe what’s written on the side of a fookin’ bus even if it’s destination is the fückin Victorian era. Choose to use terms like snowflake and woke when you don’t really understand what they mean, but Dan Wootton uses them and he writes the captions under the photos for Big Paper. Choose to bray loudly about Rugby Union at a Rugby League event because sport doesn’t exist in the North, unless it can be bought by an oil rich state for Tuscan villa favours. Choose to shift 2 million social housing dwellings into private hands without a plan to replace them. Do it again 40 years later. Choose to boast financial fraud is a victimless crime. Choose to open up new pork markets so fūckin wide you can see the fückin tapeworm wriggling up your arše like a Tory whip on crack. Choose to build back butter, build back corrupter, billed back hander. Choose to think it would be worse under Labour, a coalition or Count Binhead’s separatist movement for the clinically insane. Choose to say they’re all at it so let’s not hold them to account. Choose to bang on about Jeremy Corbyn even though he’s been on a life support machine for two years, existing only in the minds of Conservative voters like an anti-Golem.

Choose to vow not to make the same mistake again…then make the same mistake again when the Daily Mail tells you too.

Choose to hack phones. Choose to vote Jacob Rees-Mogg as your MP, fúckin, Adolf Shïtler with a knocked up and knocked about au pair. Choose the UK’s official human rights partner, the Public Fùckin Investment Fund of Saudi Arabia. Choose to accept cash in grubby fückin Slazenger holdalls from PIF in exchange for steady awaying the sportswashing acquisition of a deluded North East football club.

Choose to be on the wrong side of history. Choose to screw over the next generation, the one after that and, aye, the next one too just to make sure their hopes are truly fûcked.

Choose to cut nurses’ pay, choose to cut nurses, cut up the nurses into Sports Direct bags and re-employ the cute nurses on zero hour contracts with hems as short as a Tory voters memory. Choose to clap for carers. Choose to clap for careers. Choose to clap for your right to work harder, longer, less productively for the 1%. Choose sinks for the lady referees and for smuggling the kitchen sink into Blundell Park up your lady parts. Choose to have no appetite for speed restrictions along Humberston Road. Choose to send half of our weapons to Ukraine and the other half to Yemen to deflect from your lack of ability to govern the country or the economy. Choose a job. Lose a job. Get on your bike for a job. Lose that job when the company you work for has lost its export trade due to Brexit. Choose to promote growth in the EU by forcing the fücking extinction bothering, decaying carcass of the UK manufacturing industry to set up subsidiaries in Ireland to be able to continue to sell to your largest, neighbourly trading partner. Choose to do the IRA’s work in 6 years and then claim all of your political rivals are pro-IRA, pro-Putin and pro-Boko Haram. Choose to steal £200k of shares. Choose to threaten to shut down a football forum. Choose to try to sell said football club to a fūckin convicted fraudster. Choose to get things done and then blame the whole sorry mess on someone else. Choose to fill the putrid, gaping hole in the economy by selling single-sex portaloos to Panama, choose Carrie’s stylist as the successful tender and pump the profits into a Panamanian parent company. Choose to spûnk millions on track and trace, then use the tech to track Tracy and deport her to Timbuktu for protesting against Government corruption. Choose to be a shägger. Choose to tuck everyone’s shirts in, even when they’re already tucked into your trousers like a free bar at Number 10. Choose to vote for MPs who hate this country, then claim everyone else hates this country more. Choose to hide in a fridge. Choose to have an illegal lockdown party, pose for pictures taken by a tax payer funded photographer and then choose to deny all knowledge of the event when the images surface. Choose to break the education system to reap the next generation of gullible voters. Choose to break the health system so you can privatise it and sell it to the highest bidder who just happens to be your sister’s fookin brother. Choose not to import two thirds of all of our apples, import nine tenths of all of our pears and import two thirds of our cheese. Choose not to pick the apples and pears and leave them rotting in the earth like a metaphor for the disenfranchised youth. Choose not to export the cheese because it’s become too expensive to export (which is quite frankly a fookin’ disgrace). Choose to blame it on the people who didn’t vote for it. Choose to think Sunak or the next chancer will be any different. Choose to dilute the ministerial code, choose to lose one Ethics Advisor and choose to lose the next one for good measure. Choose to be a pathological liar. Choose an old school tie and the power vested in you by the ability to twist a neat Windsor knot. Choose to believe there’s nothing else. Choose to want what Murdoch wants because he’s Australian and we love Australians because they always have our best interests at heart and they don’t eat garlic.

Choose to tax the childless, whether they can afford kids or not. Choose to harvest the wombs and testicles of those that can’t have children, sell them to China as aphrodisiacs and then buy them back for more money. Tax the childless again to fund the deficit. Rinse. Repeat. But with higher rates of interest and a funky presentation on Rishi’s Instagram story.

Choose trading children’s futures for trading futures.

Choose to level up by shoving a sherry soaked beer mat under a wonky Wetherspoons table and expect the poor, ungrateful Northern bästards to be appreciative of the token gesture.


Choose your future. Choose life…

But why would I want to do a thing like that?

I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin’ else.

And the reasons? There are no reasons.

Who needs reasons when you can vote Conservative’.


x

Quoted from Knut Anders Fosters Voles

I must admit, I’m getting Trainspotting vibes from you there Humbercod…all I’m hearing is…

‘Choose life. Choose big fûckin tax cuts for the rich elite and multi-national corporations. Choose a non-dom tax status in a sunny tax haven. Choose 4.0 litre V6 Range Rovers with a fückin mahogany dash, ivory coated gear knôbs and seats stitched by slaves. Choose to eat or heat. Choose to use a food bank. Choose to believe what’s written on the side of a fookin’ bus even if it’s destination is the fückin Victorian era. Choose to use terms like snowflake and woke when you don’t really understand what they mean, but Dan Wootton uses them and he writes the captions under the photos for Big Paper. Choose to bray loudly about Rugby Union at a Rugby League event because sport doesn’t exist in the North, unless it can be bought by an oil rich state for Tuscan villa favours. Choose to shift 2 million social housing dwellings into private hands without a plan to replace them. Do it again 40 years later. Choose to boast financial fraud is a victimless crime. Choose to open up new pork markets so fūckin wide you can see the fückin tapeworm wriggling up your arše like a Tory whip on crack. Choose to build back butter, build back corrupter, billed back hander. Choose to think it would be worse under Labour, a coalition or Count Binhead’s separatist movement for the clinically insane. Choose to say they’re all at it so let’s not hold them to account. Choose to bang on about Jeremy Corbyn even though he’s been on a life support machine for two years, existing only in the minds of Conservative voters like an anti-Golem.

Choose to vow not to make the same mistake again…then make the same mistake again when the Daily Mail tells you too.

Choose to hack phones. Choose to vote Jacob Rees-Mogg as your MP, fúckin, Adolf Shïtler with a knocked up and knocked about au pair. Choose the UK’s official human rights partner, the Public Fùckin Investment Fund of Saudi Arabia. Choose to accept cash in grubby fückin Slazenger holdalls from PIF in exchange for steady awaying the sportswashing acquisition of a deluded North East football club.

Choose to be on the wrong side of history. Choose to screw over the next generation, the one after that and, aye, the next one too just to make sure their hopes are truly fûcked.

Choose to cut nurses’ pay, choose to cut nurses, cut up the nurses into Sports Direct bags and re-employ the cute nurses on zero hour contracts with hems as short as a Tory voters memory. Choose to clap for carers. Choose to clap for careers. Choose to clap for your right to work harder, longer, less productively for the 1%. Choose sinks for the lady referees and for smuggling the kitchen sink into Blundell Park up your lady parts. Choose to have no appetite for speed restrictions along Humberston Road. Choose to send half of our weapons to Ukraine and the other half to Yemen to deflect from your lack of ability to govern the country or the economy. Choose a job. Lose a job. Get on your bike for a job. Lose that job when the company you work for has lost its export trade due to Brexit. Choose to promote growth in the EU by forcing the fücking extinction bothering, decaying carcass of the UK manufacturing industry to set up subsidiaries in Ireland to be able to continue to sell to your largest, neighbourly trading partner. Choose to do the IRA’s work in 6 years and then claim all of your political rivals are pro-IRA, pro-Putin and pro-Boko Haram. Choose to steal £200k of shares. Choose to threaten to shut down a football forum. Choose to try to sell said football club to a fūckin convicted fraudster. Choose to get things done and then blame the whole sorry mess on someone else. Choose to fill the putrid, gaping hole in the economy by selling single-sex portaloos to Panama, choose Carrie’s stylist as the successful tender and pump the profits into a Panamanian parent company. Choose to spûnk millions on track and trace, then use the tech to track Tracy and deport her to Timbuktu for protesting against Government corruption. Choose to be a shägger. Choose to tuck everyone’s shirts in, even when they’re already tucked into your trousers like a free bar at Number 10. Choose to vote for MPs who hate this country, then claim everyone else hates this country more. Choose to hide in a fridge. Choose to have an illegal lockdown party, pose for pictures taken by a tax payer funded photographer and then choose to deny all knowledge of the event when the images surface. Choose to break the education system to reap the next generation of gullible voters. Choose to break the health system so you can privatise it and sell it to the highest bidder who just happens to be your sister’s fookin brother. Choose not to import two thirds of all of our apples, import nine tenths of all of our pears and import two thirds of our cheese. Choose not to pick the apples and pears and leave them rotting in the earth like a metaphor for the disenfranchised youth. Choose not to export the cheese because it’s become too expensive to export (which is quite frankly a fookin’ disgrace). Choose to blame it on the people who didn’t vote for it. Choose to think Sunak or the next chancer will be any different. Choose to dilute the ministerial code, choose to lose one Ethics Advisor and choose to lose the next one for good measure. Choose to be a pathological liar. Choose an old school tie and the power vested in you by the ability to twist a neat Windsor knot. Choose to believe there’s nothing else. Choose to want what Murdoch wants because he’s Australian and we love Australians because they always have our best interests at heart and they don’t eat garlic.

Choose to tax the childless, whether they can afford kids or not. Choose to harvest the wombs and testicles of those that can’t have children, sell them to China as aphrodisiacs and then buy them back for more money. Tax the childless again to fund the deficit. Rinse. Repeat. But with higher rates of interest and a funky presentation on Rishi’s Instagram story.

Choose trading children’s futures for trading futures.

Choose to level up by shoving a sherry soaked beer mat under a wonky Wetherspoons table and expect the poor, ungrateful Northern bästards to be appreciative of the token gesture.


Choose your future. Choose life…

But why would I want to do a thing like that?

I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin’ else.

And the reasons? There are no reasons.

Who needs reasons when you can vote Conservative’.


x

Outstanding!!!! 😂

Any one that voted for a party that contains Jacob Rees Mogg and Boris Johnson needs to give their head a wobble.

The worst government ever. Fact. Johnson, the worst PM ever. For so long the tories worked hard at keeping him away from leadership, they eventually failed and now we’re at this point. They may mock Labour, those daft Tory voters may mock labour but in comparison to the current Tory party, labour is a place of tranquility and calm…

Our government is embarrassing and the really sad part is multi multi millionaire Sunak hasn’t left because he’s grown a moral compass, if that was the case he’d have gone months ago. He’s left because he fancies his chances at the leadership so he’s done what all rat tories do and distanced himself with just enough time for everyone to forget he’s a massive girl private too and will then launch his leadership campaign.

Any country that makes Zahawi chancellor and the prospect of Nadine Dorriws being in charge of education tells you it’s copulated…