A Seventeen Point Six Percent Swing

Obviously I'm delighted by the Tories' victory in Crewe and Nantwich, unlike the bizarrely titled "Telegraph Columnist" Mary Riddell, who is already giving herself nightmares about what terrible things may come to pass under a Tory government utterly in hoc to a fundamentalist Christian worldview; such as (cover your ears, or eyes) another vote on abortion. Given that her side won all this week's debates convincingly, and that, accordingly, children are wholly viewed as the playthings of already existing beings in law and morals*, it's hard to escape the view that her fear is based upon the existence of dissent itself; the cognitive dissonance currently being felt by self-righteous lefties with a massive sense of entitlement up and down this benighted isle of ours. It was the debate itself that frightened her, the actual reality of people who don't see life as she does; hence all the God-bothering bogey men lurking just around the next general election. She is right to worry. It will be awful. We'll all have to go to church every week. Pre-marital sex will become a crime, except for Catholic priests, and women who have abortions will be executed. That bad? It'll be worse. For, lurking under Cameron's friendly facade lurks an extremist Etonian who'll actually criminalise poverty and, even worse, might just seek another reduction in the abortion time limit, possibly to as low as 22 weeks. Fucking hell.

Anyway.

Here are some more things TD would like to see a 17.6% swing to:


1) His knob.
2) His bollocks.
3) His brain.
4) Doctor Who.
5) England cricket.
6) His bank balance.
7) The actual size of his knob, in inches.
8) His alcohol intake.
9) Ditto.
10) And again. That makes, er, 52.8% overall in favour of alcohol.


Incidentally, why do NuLabour think that what you eat and drink must be the legitimate subject of public policy but that what you fuck must not be? Have they not heard of STIs or of abortion (er...)? Is it really ok for the likes of Dawn Primarolo to tell us, effectively, that any number of abortions is alright but that people having a few jars must stop, fucking well stop now?

Well, bollocks to that. I'll defy our collapsing autocrats with another tin of crap, cheap lager. And fuck any politician who cares deeply about what I put in my mouth unless it happens to be part of someone else's body (in which case it's a positive choice).


As if that were actually *realistic* anyway. I should stick to being pissed and not really venture into sexuality. Frankly, I would make an asexual plant look like a slut. The fucker would be out in the pub with his mates, knocking back the Stellas, and he'd go "oh look there's TD!!!!" and all his bastard dandelion mates would laugh and raise their glasses. Fucking twats. There's even bloody daisies laughing at me, the fuckwits. While snogging their girlfriends and copping a feel of her tits. I can hear the wanker pansy telling me I am a "fucking virgin, fucking virgin"** and giving his girlfriend a smack on the arse for good measure while I try to sneak up to the bar under my huge collar, almost silently ordering a pint.



*Sooner or later I'll need a liver...

** No conclusion is to be drawn on TTD's sexual experience from this piece of semi-sober whimsy.