This parallel universe theory is getting stronger as there is no way what is happening in this one can be for real???
Blurry eyed and slightly baffled, I awoke this morning to face a brave new world.
Not content with alienating ourselves politically from the rest of Europe, we decided to give them the added gift of mirth and one more reason to laugh at us, by being defeated by a bunch of part time Icelandic fishermen who genuinely only play football 6 months of the year, have a population less than one of our small cities and have a yearly budget for their entire economy, smaller than our football teams weekly paycheck…
Us with our 170 million pounds a week, super team. Defeated by a 3rd division Sunday team of vertically challenged, ex-vikings who play football on fucking ICE!!!
And, as if the football results weren’t enough to make you want to pack up your bags and go live somewhere you’re now no longer allowed to, it would appear that Bimble Johnson as it turns out, and much to everyone’s surprise, doesn’t have a plan at all.
A surprise only to those who sit in mirrored rooms, hitting themselves repeatedly in the face with spades, dribbling and throwing faeces at their own reflection. Those who still try to knock the moon out of the sky by hurtling rocks at it when the sun goes down.
You know, the Daily Mail and the Sun readers who voted based on the Suns fearmongering headlines and then, AFTER the referendum, actually bothered to research what the EU was and found themselves shocked at what they had done and how they would be affected and immediately started demanding to know why they weren’t informed of these changes and what it actually means to leave the EU BEFORE the election.
You WERE informed before the election, but you’d rather research the referendum whilst catching up on what’s happening in Coronation Street, hating black people and trying not to lose your concentration while knocking one out over Kelly, aged 19 from Bournemouth.
Waaaah you cry as you realise your £1 holidays are going to cost you £1.20 from now on and that European holiday you were never going to take because you’re a massive racist who hates EVERYONE but themselves, is now going to cost you more but it doesn’t matter because you’ll never actually go to these countries. In fact, they only exist in your universe for you have something to whinge and be racist about.
Waaaah you cry as you realise your red topped Encyclopaedia Britannica was lying to you all along and that in actual fact you should have listened to experts rather than a newspaper that LIED and purposefully mislead the public for 20 years about Hillsborough, taps dead children’s phones and is owned by possibly the second most crooked man on the planet. Number one being Kim Jong Un.
Bimble Johnson, as it turns out, may actually have a plan to save us all from the decision made under duress and based on enormous lies, which I’ll come to later.
Bimble Johnson, the man whose facial expression every time he’s caught on camera at the moment, reminds me of that guy who walked into the BBC for an interview as a Data Support Cleanser, only to be slapped on live TV and mistaken for an expert on economics or whatever it was.
He has the look of someone who just fucked up REAL BAD and it’s just that second hit him. Like he’s just announced the winner of Miss world as being Miss Colombia, only to realise he’s announced to the entire world, the wrong candidate and there’s a fuck off great big spotlight pointing right at his sweaty, bright red befuddled Chevy Chase.
THAT look. The very second it dawned on him. The look of…Oh. My. God. I’ve just screwed up royally and now I’ve got to announce to everyone that I was wrong and it’s Miss Philippines…….Oooooor, just keep quiet and slowly side step off the stage and hope no-one notices.
It reminds me of one of my favourite childhood memories.
My older brother had just started Tae Kwon Do and had come back from his training one evening (think he’d had about three lessons) and was feeling emboldened with his new found martial arts techniques he’d learnt that day.
He asked me to attack him and he’d block it.
I was far more interested in watching my TV program so I declined but he kept asking and kept pushing me and goading me until I reluctantly accepted.
One quick glance at my parents to ensure I was allowed to attack him and to ensure that whatever happened next, it wasn’t my fault, he’d asked and pushed me into this and I wasn’t going to get into trouble.
I got the OK from my parents.
He took his stance and confidently, almost mockingly asked me to hit him.
What he didn’t expect was where and how I was going to hit him. He assumed I was going to punch him. I didn’t.
With one deft swing of my leg I kicked him as hard as I could, right in the bollocks.
Right there, at that very moment in time, that split second when he realised I wasn’t going for a punch and that he’d forgotten to low block is the facial expression I’m talking about.
I’ll never forget it.
As my foot made contact in slow motion with his soon to be obliterated man bits, the look on his face of being taken completely by surprise, despite goading me into it and despite all the confidence in the world that he was invincible, is what I’m talking about, and as he crashed to floor crying like a new born baby and regretting the pushing and bullying into doing what he’d asked me to do, this is how Bimble must have felt the second the decision to vote out was announced.
That feeling of dread. That feeling you get when your heart sinks into your stomach. That feeling of complete confidence in what you’re doing one second, to the point of bullying people into putting your confidence to the test only to have it smashed into pieces and the realisation that YOU asked for it. You were soooo confident a moment ago and now you got what you asked for, you’ve realised your mistake and now you’re crying on the floor of the kitchen while I turn around and get back to my TV program.
That is how I see Bimble every day in the press.
He is like a cat (a scruffy, bumbling, racist, egit of a cat) that has finally caught it’s tail and now that it has, doesn’t know what the fuck to do with it.
Startled. Like a really, fucking stupid, arsehole of a deer, caught in the headlights.
Like a clueless, xenophobic bunny trapped in the torch beam, only there’s little to no chance of anyone actually removing his head with a shotgun…
Anyhooooo, I digress, back to Bimble Johnsons plan…Ready for it? It’s pretty special….?
Stay in the EU it appears.
His plan is literally to do exactly what we were doing before but just pretend it’s not called being in the EU and make out as though it was a victory to leave but keep exactly the same rules and regulations but everyone just shhhhhhh and not mention the fact that his plan IS the EU and he’s just removed us from it.
The Twat.
The enormous, blithering, bully boy, muck spreading, humpty dumpty looking, clueless, fucking TWAT…
Toby Kilburn
