Cilla and I would just like everyone to keep focused on us. We have been doing some running. And we have had some very responsible and truthful, award-wining-parent friends round for dinner and prayers, but not Tapas. Or wife-swapping. And we are working on a greatest hits Christmas DVD of me and Cilla walking in and out of various churches which we are sure all our fans will love.
My brother John has been talking to his weekend neighbour Gordon and Gordon has promised that if anyone says bad things about Cilla and me then his friend Sir Ian Blair will send one of his special radio-controlled, eight-man counseling teams round to put them straight. Very straight. Horizontal.
Its great to have friends in high places. You could almost get away with murder.
Please give generously to FindGerryJockMcCannsReputation.com, or to PayGerryJockMcCannsMortgage.com until we can both get fixed up with an income from the Virgin McCann Northern Rock Money Laundering Corporation (a company funded wholly by the taxpayer in order to protect HM government from its rightful place in prison, or, in Mr Straw's case, in front of a firing squad with his friends MR Blai, Mr Campbell,Mr Hoon,Doctor Rice and her pet chimp, Dubya) with offices in Nassau, Newcastle-on-Tyne and Downing Street. Remember, if you give us your money -and you don't really have any choice- you can rest confident that you will never ever have to see it again, although, unlike little wotsername, we will not leave it lying around unattended for just anybody to pick up. That would be criminally irresponsible. Happy Christmas from New Labour. And our agent Mrs Wark. (as told to stanislav)
4:47 PM, November 27, 2007
stanislav said...
Was the blonde fiancee along the lines of the snot-gobbler's official wife, Wotsername, an accoutrement to vouchsafe his straightness? He certainly looks as though he would be partial to a slice of Lady Sir Elton's wedding cake. But then everybody in the house of commons looks like that to me. Nothing wrong with that; it's just the hypocrisy. Gordon mincing down the road with The Woman Thing, playing at happy families. It used to be funny, then it became tragic, now it's dangerous. These cunts are in charge of the army, the navy, the airforce and the cops and they are criminal lunatics, fucking nutters. Nail-biting, snot-eating, one-eyed, closet homosexuality, with facial spasticity uncontrollable tremors and an explosive temper and bullying, bombastic demeanour are not the character prerequisites of a prime minister. Brown also says that hearing voices in his head is a mark of his suitability for office; neither he nor his inferior colleagues seem to know the difference between right and wrong; for so long have they spun and lied and cheated and dissembled that they are estranged from the truth. Their own survival in office is the only moral imperative. This is the sort of administration in which events like nine/eleven fortuitously occur.
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