As the Doughnut of Downing Street takes an aeroplane ride to Cornwall, from London, tae discuss issues like climate change and a greener future, you find yourself wondering if there is anything, anything at all, this numpty could do that would open the eyes of the voters of England to his gross incompetence?
Would strolling across Westminster Bridge in only his underpants singing show tunes from The Lion King the Musical and South Pacific do it? Or perhaps bearing his cheeks and breaking wind loudly in the Commons in the direction of the Scottish “Nationalist”Party’s benches every time Ian Blackford gets to his feet to speak might do the trick? Or maybe permanently moving his office to the inside of a large fridge freezer (after getting a filthy rich patron to expensively decorate it on his behalf first of course)? What will it take?
The guy is currently in the middle of the longest, most convoluted, Mickey-take that was ever perpetrated. A monumental wind-up known as his political career. It’s like the lovechild of Terry Thomas and Margaret Rutherford woke up one morning after a heavy night on the Beaujolais, had a wazz in the wardrobe, and was suddenly informed he was the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom.
There are countless more qualified individuals around, in fact, there’s probably more of the adult population of the UK more suited than he is to the job than aren’t. He must stand in front of the mirror every morning, before brushing his teeth, giggling like a naughty five year old, at the very idea that he’s reached the lofty government position that he has.
Can you imagine the thoughts that manage to float to the surface for somebody with his mindset, where there is no doubt in his wee mind that he is special, exceptional, elite, one of the chosen, but with very few visible or demonstrable useful skills?
‘What chaos can I create today?’ perhaps, or ‘Whose bidding am I doing today for profit before lunch?” That’s the sum total of the man. The guy is a fraud, a very poorly trained snake oil salesman, seen through by genuine leaders as easily as his erstwhile special relationship pal with the fake tan and the golf fetish, currently drowning slowly and deservedly in litigation.
Independence for Scotland is not about getting away from being governed by a specific Prime Minister at a specific point in time. It’s about getting away from being governed for all time by another country. However this bloke really does take the tea cake. He’s a historian’s dream.
If ever there was a time, on the road to independence, where we should be taking advantage of the clear incompetence of our opponents, it is now.
itisintruthnotforglory 
The doughnut of Downing street, love it. Reminds me of an old Bonzo Dog album, The Doughnut in Granny’s Greenhouse.
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Yes you’ve summed him up nicely.
However I think it’s important that we look at the reality of how things are run in this State. Boris is not “in charge”, he is probably barely in charge of what he has for breakfast. His decisions are made, policies formulated, thinking done, by others, Boris is simply front of house, the flavour of window dressing that’s thought to be effective at the moment. If it’s felt a different style is required he’ll be off.
He possibly is allowed to kid himself, even encouraged to have the odd “gaffe” just as Nicola is allowed to play herself with her GRA and Lady Macbeth routine, particularly as in Nicola’s case she fits in with a larger agenda.
The real and most effective enemies of the Scottish People are not the thugs running about George Square, the Boris’s, the Willies and Kates, the placemen (and women) in the SNP, but the hidden hand of the British State and it’s security state – whether it can ever be overcome is moot.
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