Incapable of facing the democratically elected leader of the currently limited powers Scottish Government in fear of possibly keechin his 44 large, wide fit M&S half-masted breeks, the circus clown purported to be in charge of the UK government slunk over the border yesterday for a two day visit.
He sashayed, like a lounge lizard too fond ae the honey roast peanuts, intae Kincardine, tae the polis college at Tulliallan, (presumably to share witty anecdotes with the cadets about his time as Mayor of London when he spent a small fortune on water cannons from the German polis, in order to control any riots which might occur as a consequence of the withering venal policies of the government he then supported, and now leads, and then how the City of London had to subsequently sell off the unused riot control vehicles as scrap at a huge loss once he’d moved on to create new and more widespread carnage for the rest of the UK). Oh how they must have laughed.
The state broadcaster propaganda division, as expected, gave the numpty the full run of the Pacific Quay Britannic centre of empire and media, a full easy-peasy softball questions interview, sound bites, cheeky grin, stern leader hard on drugs, unwilling to agree that treating people with addictions as human beings (which works very well elsewhere) rather than criminals, is a good idea, furrowed brow, strong commitment to battling climate change (you could visibly see his big splayed oot hooter growing at that one), the full gambit. Enough to splice into dozens of brainwashing propaganda clips for future use. Job done. More BBC executive kudos saved up for some future recognition in the honours system.
Later in the day I came across a photo on social media of the numptie alongside posed Power Ranger Andrew Bowie, the MP for West Aberdeenshire & Kincardine (not the same Kincardine the mop topped bawheid visited earlier, a different Kincardine, I bet that confused him).
Bowie of course is known for his obvious parliamentary talent in one particular field, smugness. If ever there was a fizzer that represented a typical self-entitled Tory he’s wearing it. Bringing my dear auld grandmother into the mix, if ye put Bowie, Priti Patel and auld Kate in the same room the gither, rising up to her full five foot two, God rest her, she’d relish the task of finding two smirking pusses she’d never get fed up skelping, like naughty weans.
Presumably Boris Johnson was in the area after gazing at the turbines in a windfarm, pretending he gives a shyte about the environment, and wondering if the revolving blades would be good for cutting the heads off his expensive cigars.
Skulking around a country which you keep telling everyone who will listen is a country you are the Prime Minister of is not a good look. If Johnson had any backbone at all he’d come out of his fridge and meet real people, real Scots. It really is a wretched situation that we allow ourselves to be governed by these people.
We must put an end to that.
itisintruthnotforglory 