I woke up Friday morning to discover that we’d lost a bye-election in the Brecon Beacons. I visited Wales only the other day and this is how the snivelling leek-faced turds repay me! My majority has shrunk like a todger confronted with a vengeful wife.
What is especially galling is that nobody lives in the Brecon Beacons. I always understood it was a barren wilderness across which our splendid paratroopers “yomp” in basic training, occasionally throwing the weakest behind to be consumed by ravenous wolves. Or the local peasantry, whichever is worse. Now I discover there’s an MP.
It used to be a perfectly sound Conservative chap whose name I can’t remember. He made a completely understandable ballsup of his Parliamentary expenses over some photographs of himself, and then told a minor fibette to those insufferable clerks at the House of Commons Standards thing. Bye-election ensues. His loyal association insists he stands again, good egg, misunderstood, mistake anybody could make, etc. Cocks it up and now I have a majority of one!
I must find out which one it is, and take her out for dinner.
Pyramid of Piffle 