Come The Revolution........

I have an apology to make. I misjudged our current crop of politicians.
I might have given the impression that I regard the whole lot of them as a bunch of steaming, odorous shits. Well, I forgot that a shit, however fresh and pungent, is biodegradable and so has a purpose, in that it is a vessel for returning nutrients into the ecosystem. I should, of course, have likened our elected members to broken, plastic coathangers - absolutely no fucking use to anybody whatsoever!

I ranted in a previous post, in metaphorical terms, that the brain-dead electorate had stampeded away from New Labour to ally itself with the Tories just because it had been told that David Cameron had started sporting a new tie. Pither predicted that Gordon Brown would respond by starting to part his hair differently in an effort to lure back the voters but not even I, the Mayor of Cynicsville, realised just how completely indistinguishable our two major parties had become and how devoid of ideas its leaders were. It turned out that it never even occurred to Brown to re-style his barnet. Instead, he just walked up to Cameron, in full view of everyone, and nicked his fucking tie!!
Far from being "tough on crime, tough on the causes of crime", New Labour's chief bean counter,
Captain "I'm either dying my hair or my eyebrows - you decide" Darling, actually announced the theft proudly to the House of Commons. The announcement was, however, caught on CCTV cameras and replayed on news bulletins later in the day so, while it came too late for Crimewatch, I am certain that arrests will follow.
Cut to today and it emerged that an e-mail is doing the rounds of Westminster concerning the manner in which our MPs should be treated by civil servants who encounter them in the Houses of Parliament. Bearing in mind the worth of our MPs hinted at above, you would be forgiven for having thought this e-mail stipulated that any elected member spotted in the confines of the hallowed halls was to be urinated upon. You might also have imagined it said that extra water dispensers had been situated around Westminster to keep everyone's tanks topped up for just such encounters. Did the e-mail, perchance, offer Queen's Pardons to officials who set fire to MPs, so long as the ensuing blaze posed no threat to the furniture or visitors? No!! I'll tell you what it said. It said that civil servants were to make way for MPs in the queues for lunch and dinner!!! Jesus H Christ!! Give me a fucking break!!
What next? Doffing your cap in a built-up area? Compulsory grovelling at baby-kissing photo opportunities? Offering up your first born for sacrifice at constituency surgeries? These fucking shits - sorry, broken fucking coathangers - are public servants, for God's sake! They're on the biggest fucking gravy train in the country and not only do they fucking want to laugh and point out of the windows at everyone else they want those self same bastards outside, the ones who bought them their tickets, to fucking bow down to them as they pass!
I would flout this latest instruction if I were there (the revolution will have to start in a more modest way than I had hoped) and, in fact, do the complete opposite. I would barge into the queue in front of the fucking lot of them and then order a plate of peas, stipulating to the kitchen staff that each pea was to be put on the plate individually and with the use of only two croquet mallets. Fuck 'em!
I can't send these wankers to Grantham because they're already fucking there. Damn!! They get you every time, you see.