A while back I signed this petition at the Downing Street website.
“We the undersigned petition the Prime Minister to resign due to gross financial incompetence in running the British economy.”
Today I received the this reply from Gordon Broon or rather whichever pathetic twat in the office writes this shit rather than does the decent thing and remove that cunt Brown’s one good eye with a paper knife and calls it their “resignation”.
Here is the first paragraph.
The success of the Government’s macroeconomic framework, introduced in 1997, means that the UK is facing the international financial crisis and the recession it has caused around the world from a solid foundation. Credible medium term objectives and mechanisms for short-term flexibility mean that the Bank of England and the Government can deliver the necessary support to the economy without compromising their commitments to low inflation and sound public finances.
Not only does that not even answer the question I have heard it all before and it is utter bollocks and clearly they had to play that pigeon-chested abatoir-creeper Mandelsnake’s arse-bugle long and hard to come up with THAT. A reply of “Fuck off” would have at least been honest…
This was on the same day I saw that partially sculptured turd in a suit Broon say he was bunging RBS £300,000,000,000 immediately after they had announced the worst corporate loss in British History.
Lying, devious, incompetent, duplicitous, mendacious, arogant, distainful, patronising fuckers. Ever last bugger-cunting one of them.
I’m well beyound wanting to see the fuckers lynched or beaten to death in the streets. I want to see them humiliated. I want to see them destroyed and broken gibbering wrecks before they are publically tortured to death using methods of Afghan brutality and Chinese ingenuity.
But what I really want is something I know I can never get. I want genuine confessions. I want them to beg forgiveness from the Universe for the atoms they have occupied for all of their miserable, pathetic, shitty, malicious years. I want them all to know before they take their last trip that their lives have been utterly wasted and thoroughly malignant. I don’t want them cast from the tumbril (or more likely into the political wilderness) to be wondering “Where did we go wrong?” I want every fibre of their beings to resonate for the rest of their lives – whatever time is left to them – with an overwhelming feeling that everything they have ever been or said or done was wrong. But I know that will never happen because the only thing that resonates though every fibre of their beings is arrogance. Sheer unbroachable adamantine arrogance.