It’s difficult to swallow a lot of what UK government feeds us, given the pork pies of the past. I voted for Tony Blair. There, I said it. I admit it. It’s my fault, along with a lot of other misguided soft liberals that thought New Labour was a reformed socialism rather than just another flavour of capitalist apologism hypnotised by the insane flashing eyes of Margaret Thatcher.
Tony Blair participated in the deplorable and consensual ignoring of the facts so that George Bush, that exemplar of international statesmanship, could throw a competing dictator out of one frying pan and into another oil fire. And now Blair and Bush are out there sucking flacid pink sausages with the NeoCons, earning millions on the lecture circuit of the Fletcher Memorial Home for Colonial Wasters of Life and Limb.
Here is my response, a pork pie in a British pub, with my own invention, Stalky Ringbits, as portable memento mori. For reference, cooked pork is not pink but grey, unless artificially enhanced by a dodgy dossier of artificial colouration. The only way to get to the truth is by cutting right through it and examining any evidence of chemical poisoning.
Note the English mustard. This is not that weak-as-piss yellow streak so beloved of the Obama/Cameron Hot Dog Cheerleader Oil-Stars. No, this stuff will take the roof of your fucking mouth off. It’s as strong as copper-bottomed shit.