|May: bloodhound with fox's scent wafting in nostrils|
In the wake of last week's leaked Labour election manifesto, a document brimming with exciting measures intended to spread wealth, opportunity and equality across the land, the Tories have showed them how the political class really operates and unleashed their own set of manifesto 'pledges' which take, as their central theme, the traditional Tory pursuit of killing things.
Theresa May appeared at the unleashing wearing everything that her local NEXT branch couldn't quite sell in the 2014 January sales and bayed like a bloodhound with the fox's scent wafting in her nostrils, "Jeremy Corbyn and his gang of Marxist revolutionaries, with their crazy ideas like fairness and being nice, are threatening to take this country all the way back to the 1970's. The man is an idiot. This is simply not far enough. That is why the Conservative Party pledge to take us back to the 1770's. A far more desirable time altogether in which killing things such as; disabled people, foreign people, poor people, foxes, the economy, democracy, the NHS - had there been such a thing for us to kill back then, education, human rights and pensioners were simply what one does when one was a Tory. And so, in this time-honoured fashion, we intend to continue doing exactly the same to the English public for the next two hundred and fifty years. Hurrah for me and the Tories! After all, what would a pack of talentless, greedy, awkward knobs who can't use a broom, or a screwdriver, or even nail two pieces of wood together without making pricks out of themselves do, were it not for the privileged life of an Honorable Member for Parliament who spends, sometimes, almost four hours a day fleecing those whom work harder than we can imagine for less than we can perceive? Dah diddley dee it's a politician's life for me. Now where's that 2014 NEXT catalogue? I need something threateningly garish in either grey or black so I can look like the authoritative captain of an Imperial battle cruiser when I win the election and visit the queen to decide which poor people we are going to kill first."
Peter Padstock (55), a pet shop owner from Radstock, was upbeat about his future as a landless debt surf under the yolk of Tory feudalism and pathetically bleated, "Although the entire Conservative front bench are all millionaires and have enjoyed educations costing more than my entire life's wages and none of them can change a wheel on their car, or clap in time to music, or read a map, or throw a stick, or play a child's video game, or clean their own shoes, decades of giving my personal authority away to people with posh accents means I'll be voting Tory. Anyway, the BBC said that Corbyn is mad and, because I don't bother reading anything other than the horoscopes, they must be right. Posh people that is. Not horoscopes. They predicted things would go well for Virgos last year but my wife told me that I was a spineless sod and left me. For my brother. On my birthday. Which is on Christmas Day. And she took the kids. And the dog. And all my money and food and music and everything else, including the tree. But I'm still exciting about being a debt surf when the Tories come to power. Yeh! Every cloud has a silver lining eh? Or maybe a brass one after the next set of cuts."
However, not everyone was as cheerful about the Tories' manifesto and Hector Honouris (51), a former anthropology professor at Durham University currently packing shelves at ASDA because of recent education cuts, fumed, "People must be a bunch spineless sods to even consider letting this gang of thieves loot them - again. Remember, Mrs May thinks nothing of letting a pack of dogs tear a defenseless animal apart, in front of her, so just imagine what she is capable of doing to you - another unwanted parasite on her land. Of course, in anthropological terms, the public's preference to Theresa May and her gang of aristocratic thugs over Jeremy Corbyn: an obviously well-meaning, decent man, who actually wants to give them money, proves that mankind, as a species, is still in a primitive stage in which the unevolved illogically defer to aggressive, self-aggrandizing tribal leaders to guard them from the perceived dangers of the 'jungle' instead of gravitating toward their more rational counterparts better suited for governance in the post-industrial age. Or, to put it simply, the majority of English people have smarties for bollocks and would let you put their own children on the game if you turned up driving a fucking Rolls Royce with brass band music playing out the windows and the Red Arrows flying overhead. Fight back you spineless bastards! Vote Labour!"
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