Such a prescient, beautiful sentiment.

Saturday, 7 July 2012

Do The Greedy Ever Stop?

Obviously Not.

This abuser of staff, philandering tub of lard and all round rotten egg is seeking yet more teat sucking from we  taxed to the hilt schmucks. As part of the socialist wrecking ball crew of some 13 years of incompetent failure and economic ruin,  the fat controller seeks to milk his hypocritical largesse to the hilt.

Of course his passion for his own entitlements, Chinese bungs and back handers bothers him as much as his screwing a junior secretary concerned his inability to grace the presence of the Dalai Lama. Not content with the rank unpleasant smell of a peerage for this "perks for me penury to everybody else" mentality we now have the ridiculous notion he is fit for further lucrative office as a Bobby Boss.

Give me strength. I loathe the hypocritical wealth of those other Bollinger Bovver Boys from the Kinnock "clean up the EU" meisters dynasty but this cretinous, odious socialism for all, riches for me slob takes the biscuit. 

You just watch the old and decrepit fool waddle round Hull as Police Commissioner. Bet he's already clocked the allowances, croquet lawns, State banquets, trips abroad and Chinese "investments" he can garner. I suspect his hosts in Beijing have already furnished a coterie of Chinese "Tracy Temple"  "looky likeys" to comfort the strain of his paid for holidays to the East. I wonder how many trips Pauline went along on and enjoyed the hairdressing skills of an army of servants. Socialists, Pah!

As for his peerage and the scams, sorry expenses, to be had there,  Unbelievable  . Freebie travel, taxis and food, plus 300 quid a day to sign in before off to the Chinese Embassy for lunch and brown envelopes. Not one jot of shame for the turncoat socialist believer of the past. Just like every single one of them, once a whiff of the Bisto Train is sniffed, that old ditty kicks in, "I've got the foreman's job at last". 

Aint that the truth. Hypocritical, dishonest graspers. Welcome to modern politics and the greed of the few. Still he does look the part, I suppose, does our Lord Of The Pies. As for Lady Prescott, there's a contradiction in terms. A real lady would have dumped him years ago.


  1. Well said OR. The over-fed unintelligent grasping poltroon deserves a good kicking. At least eight lace-holes (as we used to say..)

    BTW, the rest of that little song applies just as much to 99% of the socialist vampires:

    The working class can kiss my arse
    I’ve got the foreman’s job at last.
    The system I’ll no more resist,
    I’m going to be a capitalist.

    Now you can raise the standard high,
    Beneath its shade to fight and die.
    But brother, please don’t count on me—
    I’ve up and joined the bourgeoisie.

    P.S. I hope Lady OR's garden is bearing up under the assault of an English summer...

    1. dear Caratacus, many thanks for the extra verses. So apt. As for the garden, so beautiful in its defiance of this Spelman drought!

  2. Or

    The working class can kiss my arse
    I've got the foreman's job at last.
    I'm out of work and on the dole,
    So stick the red flag up your hole.

    Forget the second verse my old Dad used to sing even.

    1. Moorland, these words are so the very core of socialist delusion. True carers of others need not a creed of envy.

  3. I remember the Lord of the Pies saying that people who went to the Lords were nothing more than 'vermin in ermine'. Changed his tune when offered the chance of £300 a day for signing in and going home again.
    We have to listen to this tub of lard as he pontificates on integrity in banking. Hoping we will forget about him pumping his slag over the photocopier. In between charging us to fly his fat arse to numerous global warming scam conferences around the globe.
    Fat waste of space basically.

    1. George, hymns tomorrow will share the sheet!