No choice at all.

Yesterday, or was it the day before, I was shocked, yet thrilled to the core, to learn that the ever growing list of Tory leadership candidates would be joined by Mark Harper. Brilliant I thought to myself, he’s just the kind of young (ish), hard working, driven politician we need running this country; surely if anyone can rescue us from all this Brexit brooha and steer Great Britain towards a shining future then it’s Mark Harper. Then I woke up from an unsettled sleep and read the news that Mark Harper had thrown his hat into the ring; the ring being the Tory Leadership race, not a sphincter, though it is rather hard to tell the difference. And then I thought: who the fuck is Mark fucking Harper?

As if Brexit wasn’t bad enough for our health we are now having to contend with a Tory leadership race and whoever wins that, and this is where it gets scary, will automatically become the Prime Minister of this country. It happened a few years ago when Theresa May took over because David Cameron suddenly revealed himself to be even more of a prick than we all first suspected. In fairness to May it wasn’t long before she called for a general election, which was great because the whole nation was still not quite thoroughly sick of voting on stuff that ends in yet more grief. With the help of some DUP graspers Theresa crawled back to office on the promise that no matter how bad Brexit might of looked she could absolutely, definitely, without a shred of doubt make it many times worse.

What a shambles, and it’s a shambles that has led to the imminent demise of the era that will be known from now on as the “phew Theresa, what have you done in there, better open the window and spray something” political gulp. And you would think that perhaps now would be the time for people to vote on who they would like to get us out of the shit, but then we clearly can’t be trusted to make the right choice. And why is that? Because there is no one. There is no one left in this country that I would trust to pour a glass of milk properly, let alone think they could miraculously un-fuck our way out of a big, yawning hole in the ground. And that certainly includes Mark Harper.

And not just Mark Harper, and not just because I haven’t got the first clue who Mark Harper is. Apparently Harper used to be Chief Whip and it was his job to make sure everyone voted in support of the Prime Minister; well you did a great fucking job there Mark; go on, go for the leadership. Fortunately Mark will have some tough opponents in that race, but interestingly that doesn’t make them any more eligible.

For starters we’ve got James Cleverly who spent 20 years in the TA but won’t get the job because there are still enough daft racists in the Tory party who think that him being black is a bit of an impediment. There’s Jeremy Hunt who held a pillow over the face of the NHS almost long enough to kill it and was rewarded by being made Foreign Secretary. Because that’ll scare the Chinese. There’s Matt Hancock, who is still a child and has 3 letters more than required in his surname. We also have some doughy chump of a non-event called Kit Malthouse who doesn’t stand a chance because he makes Mark Harper look like David Beckham. Elsewhere we’ve got Esther McVey, who tries to come across as good but forgets that we all know she used to co-present GMTV and is therefore not very good at all. And of course you mustn’t forget Sajid Javid whose impact as Home Secretary has been so staggeringly slight that if he vanished tomorrow the job might just get done ever so slightly more effectively.

And this leaves the three ‘big hitters’: Andrea Leadsom, who I dislike the least but I also suspect will fall flat on her face; Boris Johnson, who is a dangerous arsehole with all the tact of a fat Roman at an orgy; and Michael Gove, who is an irreparable, cheap VHS player filled with chicken fat and maggots and a worn copy of Police Academy 5. It’s plain creepy the way everyone has lied and avoided answers and wriggled and resigned out of ‘principle’ and then jumped up the moment Theresa sat on a big spike. How can you trust anyone who would quite happily lurk in the shadows until an old lady drops dead and then run off with her purse?

There is nothing left in politics anymore. Nothing to be hopeful about or for. Politics isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, mine included, but I do know that politics should make you fired up; make you fight for what you believe in and stand your ground. Sadly there’s poo all over the ground and it’ yucky and smells bad and I don’t want to stand in it anymore. For the first time ever I feel like never watching the news again and instead I can just get on with my life and then when people start looting my house or an atom bomb drops on our local Tesco then I’ll know the politicians have finally finished off the job they’ve been doing so badly for so long. I want to cry but I’m damned if I’ll waste a single tear on any of them. They’d need to earn that.

G.B.Hewitt. 31.05.2019

Oh, sorry, I forgot Dominic Raab and Rory Stewart. Wouldn’t want either of them running the country so doesn’t seem like a big oversight. Silly me.

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