The unofficial prime minister, ambassador for all things British, advocate of the common working man, our dark over lord, has graced The One Show with his presence and was asked what he thought of the public sector workers going on strike. As Jeremy Clarkson resumed the accepted crossing of legs, wringing of hands position we have all come to love and respect, his jowls began to shake with fury. It was clear that today was the day. Jeremy was going to say what we had all been thinking all along. Matt Baker and Alex Jones and could only look on is awe and servitude as, slightly hunched over presumably due to the sheer tennacity of his British fury, Jeremy Clarkson hallowed by thy name, our unofficial PM began to deliver the following sermon:
"I'd have them all shot. I would take them outside and execute them in front of their families'.. (Jeremy shuffling about in justified indiginition) 'I mean, how dare they go on strike when they've got these gilt-edged pensions that are going to be guarenteed' (Jeremy raising his eyebrows in abject fury) 'Whilst the rest of us have to work for a living'. Jeremy, our unofficial PM, evidently exhausted after exhibiting such astuteness for a man of his age reached his own personal climax and to finish it off, rested his hands on his knees and stared indignantly into the blank, squirmy faces of the co-presenters.
Clearly gaging the reaction by the embarassed titters in the audience, Jeremy went onto proclaim his annoyance and fury at being delayed whilst on a train because someone who had made the dire decision to end their lives by throwing themselves in front of a train, has chosen to disrupt his busy schedule of Mexican bashing and pitiful attempts to affiliate himself with the 'common man'. Acutely aware and wise beyond words, Clarkson offered his own solution: the train should continue its journey leaving the mangled corpse of the desperate and suicidal person behind.
I for one was surprised that Jeremy Clarkson, our unofficial PM, would lower himself as to sit on public transport. Afterall public transport is for gays, pussies and plebs who are too afraid to sit behind the helm of a wheel, whilst revving furiously and giving a big fuck you to the environment, the lowly bicycle and the bunny from the Cadburys adverts.
Surely this makes a change from sitting in a BMW by himself.. naturally.. in some remote corner off of a junction.. in Sussex..probably...in those jeans.. suggestively stroking the gearstick and mumbling frankly incoherent statements like 'leftwing pansies...vroom ...vroom.. pc scum..neenorneenor' when out of no where, the head of Piers Morgan lands on his dashboard splattering him and his beloved shiny car in the maggots and remnants of misanthropy that crawl out of the dark, wet cavities of Piers' skull.
Just a thought.
