I have decided this week that I shall become bigoted and totally insensitive, and adopt the personality of a fully-fledged fuckwit, simply to enable Rupert Murdoch (The man with the craggy face reminiscent of a Pickled Pensioners ballbag) to give me a job spouting vicious inane twaddle…….and all for a modest £300k/p.a. (I was joking about the £300k though, I would do it for half the price)
It does beg the question as to why you would even employ Kelvin Mackenzie in the first place, unless you could pay him in punches to the head? His originality of thought is even less than Nigel Farage displays at a stag do, and that’s even “Gittish” enough to embarrass Katie “Dredgermouth” Hopkins.
One bright spot this week is that Everton FC have joined Liverpool in the banning of all Sun ‘Journalists’ from their grounds, if only all Newsagents would follow suit. You have to be pretty desperate to make money if you need to resort to having “The Sun” livery plastered all over the front of your shop. I would rather use my Scrotum as an oven glove in a steel foundry than have to look at that all day.
The only good thing I could say about the ‘The Sun’ is at least it doesn’t pretend to be anything more sophisticated than a lining for the bottom of the cat litter tray.
This is in stark contrast to the Daily Mail, The Sun doesn’t pretend to be anything than a knuckle draggers charter of shit filled hate, whereas The Daily Wail actually thinks it’s a high brow quality paper. That concept I liken to the entertainment value of Paul Nuttall wearing a cod piece while singing Tom Jones greatest hits, and with all the same myopic but highly dramatic little Englander mentality that led to Brexit in the first place.
I nearly forgot about the lovely Mother Theresa of Callous telling us that we all need to come together and that God himself would have definitely voted to leave the largest free trade zone in the world.
Yes, I know she is the daughter of vicar, and yes, it is true that my religious education is confined to having watched The Robe, (maybe somewhat hungover), but Theresa Mays interpretation of the Bible is verging on the ridiculously Trumpesque.