Richard the Dork - the only poster whose comments suggested an unpleasant combination of sweating and writhing was you.
Your copious and seemingly never ending posts in the run up to the election revealed with crystal clarity your narrow minded bias, your sweeping stereotypic dismissal of alternative political viewpoints and your swallowing, hook line and sinker, of the propaganda being generated by an unpleasant and unelected trio of New Labour spinners. It already sounded passé, the chip-shouldered blathering of one of last century's soviet surrogates, a rather empty head filled with preconceptive sloganism, socialist mythology and resentment rather than any objectivity, maturity or the fruits of any meaningful life experience. But following the final purging of Scotch Marxism from Westminster it sounds positively archaic - and trite. A sad and grubby celebration of the negative, the literary (and not very literate) equivalent of sour grapes, rooted in the Marxist last gasp of 1997 and the awakening disbelief that your Party's spinning and lies were no longer to be believed. May I suggest that you accompany your sour grapes with a generous helping of hard cheese and a bottle of the finest Conservative schadenfreude, vintage 2010 (infinitely more palatable than Blue Nun) courtesy of yours truly.
Fortunately, cooler and more objective Labour heads prevailed. Your heckling, abusive and oh so tired kind of politics is perhaps best expressed by going to join the scruffy crowds of yoof Labour activists chanting "Tory scum" on the streets of London. I understand Fatbloke is there waiting for you with a two-man soviet-style banner to support. The pair of you will then be able to rival Laurel and Hardy in a heady mix of archaic political dogma and slapstick comedy.
Di-dum, di-dum, di-dum, di-dum, di-diddlee-dee .
Wednesday, 12 May 2010
h/t Speccie (Nicholas)