The House of Commons met today to debate whether Tony Blair was great or not, ironically (actually on reflection, there's nothing ironic about it) the Conservatives coming out in favour of the large-eared dictator whilst the back benchers continued their revolt. Tonight the Commons will vote on whether the government is 'taking the right steps with regards to the Iraqi Crisis'. In other words...if the rebels vote 'Yes' to Uncle Tony following the UN route as he has done (just about) so far, then whatever he decides next will be taken as read and, therefore, unstoppable. On the other hand if the rebels vote 'No' then the Primeminister can simply say, "Okay...the UN route isn't working. Let's bomb the bastard instead."
No win spin!
Kickstarting the impassioned debacle, Tony bin Blair made the following speech to rally his forces together:
Never in the desert of inhuman conflict will so many innocent people die so much for so little fuel.
We will fight them in the Red Cross depots. We will bomb them in the gutters. We will synchronise our homing missiles against their sharp and pointed sticks.
And let it always be said, that no matter how long this Great American State of ours may continue, that this was our blindest hour.
Other news and the courts have decided that in the case of the IVF mix-up that lead Mrs A and Mr A to give birth to Mr B's child (what a coincidence them all having such alphabetical names eh?) Mr B is the legal father despite the fact that he's never even met Mrs A. I wonder if she's now going to sue him for maintenance?
I was watchin' the news the other night with Our Brian ('ee's a good lad on the 'ole...blunt as a ballbase bat an' as misguided as an 'omosapien's knob, 'scuse my Twat, but not a bad sort right down at 'eart) an' that nice Mr Blair wot's in charge of the conservative party and wot wants t' kill all the nig-nogs in Istanraq was on. 'Ee was givin' a speech about 'ow Saddam Butterfly (or wotever 'is name is) used biodegradable weapons of mass disruption against 'is neighbour Irania.
Our Brian suddenly gets 'ot beneath 'is poloneck an' pipes up, "We already know that, Jug Ears! It was America wot gave 'em the weapons in the first place. An' they gave 'im full permission t' use 'em an' all!" Well, I was shocked. Me old 'eart leapt up into me scraggy throat, it did, an' me surgical stockin's fair old crackled wi' electricity.
"'Ow dare you!" I says, pointin' a threatin' finger at the scallywog! "That's our blessed Prime Minister you're talkin' to there! 'Im wot sorts out our pensions an' decides 'oo's goin' t' go to 'eaven and all that stuff!"
"I wouldn't bank on gettin' a pension off 'im for much longer," Our Brian replies. "That bastard's tryin' t' make the state pension obsolete. If 'ee 'asn't destroyed the world by the time 'ee gets round to it, o' course."
Well...I couldn't believe wot I was 'earin'. Our Brian usin' the 'bastard' word in front o' me. Me! With me 'eart and me veins and me constitutionals. Me infertility bag almost swelled up t' burstin' point, it did! So I grabs 'im by the scruff o' the neck an' I says, "Listen 'ere my lad! We'll 'ave none o' that Bullshevit rubbish talked in my 'ouse!"
"But this is my 'ouse, Gran," the upfart responds all 'aughty like, although slightly croaky 'cos of me strangle 'old on 'is throat.
"I don't care for none o' that," I says with dissolve. "You're committin' blasphemy y' foul mouthed fucker, 'scuse my Lavatory. Wot makes you think y' know better than the Primeminister, eh? Bloomin' ignorant twit! If my 'Enry was alive, God rest is sphincter, 'ee'd be an 'undred and thirty-three. Now get in that bathroom an' wash y'r mouth out wi' soap an' water...if y've bloomin' got any! An' while you're about it y' can empty me bag an' all!"
I'm an 'undred an' four, y' know...an' the attitude of the young today is nothin' short o' diuretical.