Electile Dysfunction

Machiavelli once said, “Politics have no relation to morals.”

Has there ever been a more appropriate description of modern-day British politics? The whole system is like Al Capone’s birthday party. And they don’t even try to hide it anymore; they sit there laughing while we read about astronomical expense claims, and they defend it by saying, “It’s all perfectly legal.”

Of course it’s fucking legal. These cunts made it legal, and they continue to do so, while trying to make out that claiming for a Kit-Kat is vital to them performing the job they’re already being paid a ridiculously large salary for. Oh, and they’re about to get an 11% pay-rise. It’s just raining fucking money on British politicians; these altruistic pillars of society who just want to make the country a better place – for themselves, of course. The rest of us can fuck off.

So, we’ve got to vote for these scumbags again in May. We’ve got to give these grinning, morally bankrupt rat-turds yet another licence to screw us like a Catholic priest at choir practice. And one single vote could be all it takes. If we all decided that we’d had enough of these sociopathic parasites and every one of us decided not to vote, they could just vote for themselves and still get the golden ticket. Then they and their latent paedophile cronies would run the country for another five years like pigs that invaded a wedding buffet. They’d make new laws to make sure they could carry on sucking the marrow out of this country. They’d make laws to stop us saying bad things about them; laws that take away any semblance of electoral power.

I look at the party leaders and feel my heart falling out of my arse. What a bunch of cunts.

David Cameron – posh bastard child-forgetting dishonest bandwagon-jumping twat. The man is like the unholy spawn of a one-night-stand between Margaret Thatcher and Adolf Hitler. He’s got a face that literally begs to be slammed repeatedly in a fridge door until it’s a bloody, noxious mass that’s still as deadly as the blood from the monsters in Alien.

Nick Clegg – Little Nicky limp-dick sellout unprincipled desperate cunt. He looks like one of those white dog-turds we used to see on pavements in the seventies. I can’t help thinking his mom must look at him sometimes and feel like she owes her fanny an apology.

Ed Miliband – back-stabbing fratricidal Squidward-looking moron. The man can’t even eat a bacon sandwich without looking like an utter twat. Who can’t eat a bacon sandwich? How the fuck does someone manage to fuck that up? Most men can eat a bacon sandwich with their brains still swimming in the previous nights alcohol and with all the co-ordination of Stephen Hawking with about 5,000 volts running through him.

Nigel Farage – xenophobic closet-racist homophobic anti-breast nugget. He’s the bloke down the pub who thinks he can manage the England football team, solve the financial crisis and still score 180 on the pub dartboard with a gob full of pork scratchings. He’s arguably the most viable candidate at this particular dark moment in the history of this country. It’s fucking depressing, isn’t it?