So the smug, oleaginous, sweaty little fcuk got back in, then.
Following
some timely advice about not having to disclose your voting number to political activists at the polling booths, I thoroughly enjoyed denying the Tory hag any personal details last night. (I was the only one in the queue who did).
"But it's to stop you getting 'phone calls to see if you voted" she whined.
"Look" I replied, using one of Crony's own favourite sentence-starters, "I've lived on this manor for fifteen years and
no-one has
ever 'phoned me, so you are not getting any information." At which I pirhoutted smugly back into the queue.
So Bush gets returned and so does Crony Bliar. We both turn 52 this year but apart from that, he's a million miles distant from me.
I'm
very
disappointed.
# posted by Mr.D. @ 8:30 AM
Drinking and Driving (but clearly not simultaneously)
