“Ms Symonds, 31, is heard to complain that red wine has been spilt on her sofa, saying: ‘You just don’t care for anything because you are spoilt. ‘You have no care for money or anything.’”
Boris Johnson: Police called to Tory leadership contender's home
Can’t we aim a little higher for the top job in our country than this nincompoop; a silly, thoughtless, spoilt brat? And Mad-eyed Hunt, (hated by doctors everywhere), just makes my skin crawl. Isn’t there anyone else even, I dunno, half decent? Have our expectations been so crushed that this barely raises an eyebrow? Or have they slipped something into our water supply so our compliance is guaranteed; our glassy-eyed somnambulism revealing no feelings as we are lead ever closer towards the next great extinction.
We can remind ourselves that although power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely, that there have been some good and decent men and women in history who have shown qualities like courage, strong morals, and compassion. That these values are not present amid the Tory party right now, doesn’t mean we should stand for anything, whatever comes, no matter how low and loathsome, with merely a shrug. We give away our very selves far too easily, whilst we are distracted by shiny pretty gadgets and last night’s television show. We don’t want to get involved in politics ourselves, not really, but our ignorance is the bliss of a corrupt party which is bloated by it’s own decay and rapidly decomposing right in front of our very eyes. And still we shrug, become distracted, say things like, ‘oh well.’
We can set our standards higher come the next General Election in 2022. We should. And we must, simply because we need to stand for what’s right, not be led like sheep, ever deeper into the wrong.
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I believe that the day Boris or Hunt gets the top job, a spell that has safely kept hoards of demons trapped deep underground, will be broken. Explosively broken. Free at last, the demons will scuttle about with wild abandon, gleefully finding new homes to nest (mostly in Boris Johnson’s hair — all the better to control him closely). And then, well, you know the rest. Locusts, and Armageddon. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
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