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Fuck me, things must be bad. Geoffrey Robinson is out of rehab, simpering and smirking in, he fondly imagines, Nancy Brown's defence. He's all over the place, like the rash on Toilets Maguire's tiny knob. And just as cheesy.
For Robinson the ponce to be around there must be some old biddy somewhere with a fortune, just waiting to be charmed out of it by crumpled but boyish Gigolo Geoff; some substantial sum that really belongs in an offshore bank. Or maybe he's again waving his cheque book at the new, young Commissars saying, anybody wanna non-repayable loan? All strictly above board, just as long as you don't tell anyone.
An absurd, pitiful fuckwit like Geoff Who Am I? Hoon and a corrupt, oily, comic opera chancer like Robinson dragooned into supporting and defending this criminal debacle, these are barrel scrapings from Hell.
The game is up. Come out Gordon.
Friday, January 25, 2008
stanislav said...I only christened him Toilets Maguire because he talks shit and acts as one of Nancy Brown's rent boys in chief
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Is it something I said ? I only christened him Toilets Maguire because he talks shit and acts as one of Nancy Brown's rent boys in chief - along with Lady Sir Michael Kneepads White - and because he is a disgrace to the labour movement, a parasite, a sycophant, a dreadful writer, a hypocrite and an unspeakable cunt. No need for him to take on so.
His parents, if he knows who they are, probably love him a little but for most of us he's down there in the sewer with Piers Moron. He should be grateful that he has a sobriquet here, most people, after all, ignore him. When they start attacking you, Guido, it means either that you have them rattled or that their foreskins are itching again and they need to visit the NUJ pox clinic. Slags.