Politics and pillocks

And, in some cases, their intersection. UKIP. the party I've always described as 'the National Front in a suit', a description I stand by, now have an MP after a by-election yesterday. He was the sitting Conservative MP for a constituency in Essex - where else, the place is a byword for antediluvian stupidity - who recently 'defected' to Farage's collection of fascist xenophobes, misogynists and homophobes. If English (and I use the word advisedly, I can't see UKIP winning many votes, let alone seats, in Scotland or Wales) voters are stupid and bigoted enough to elect a such a farcical bunch of halfwits, they deserve all the crap they'll undoubtedly get - and I'll be leaving the country, forthwith.
Continuing the political vein. I saw this earlier on.

It's seemingly been doing the rounds for a while, but I hadn't seen it until a couple of hours ago. The last sentence could, with 'UKIP' substituting for 'Republican', be just as apposite over here.

And as for pillocks, my brief visit to my local earlier exposed me to enough to last me the rest of the year. For the first time since I started frequenting the place in January, I felt genuinely uncomfortable being in the pub - it seemed to be full of the same brand of mouthy, alcohol and testosterone fuelled pondlife that used to make Friday and Saturday evenings in 'domicile-ville' Wetherspoons so unpleasant, the type that would just as soon smash a glass in your face as shake your hand. And it wasn't as if most of them were 'kids', either - the majority seemed to be nearer 40 than 20, even older in one or two cases. I can quite happily live without that kind of company, and baled out without much delay. I'll be back, of course, but at a time when I can more reliably expect a 'quiet life'.

Love & best wishes to all

Sammy B