The prickaninny is prancing. Puffing piffle & spaffing his own fudge, the bubonic Bullingdon colostonaut & rectum-tongued gusher of bilge & rabies lurches towards his toilet-break. Never naturally feasible, its only during such extraordinary & paranormal circumstances, beset by terminal deterioration, all wrapped-tight & ring-fenced by the thickest wreath of crisis, catastrophe & farce, that this scrotum-faced Etonian turd-groper could spill his cavities contents onto the moribund bottom-scrape that is Prate Shitannia & it’s roll-over populace of slaves, knaves & child-graves. Fuck all Tories & death to the Cancervative party…. never has such treachery, folly & fuck-up shambled the isle.