Her Very Own
I am in receipt of another leaflet from the local, no-nonsense, straight-talking Conservative candidate, Mike Freer. In part. it rehashes the first instalment, with the same touting of the local, no-nonsense, straight-talking ways of Mike Freer, together with a bit more about the local, no-nonsense, straight-talking ways of Mike Freer. An admittedly interesting additional detail is that Mike Freer sometimes operates out of a mobile home; which is certainly apt enough given the Conservative Party's wholehearted adoption of the trailer-trash mentality embodied in its great ally, the Trumpster.
One major difference is that this offering eschews the local voices of local persons for whom the local Mike Freer has got so many no-nonsense local things done, and in their place includes a national proclamation from the dead-eyed warden herself. Taking out the blather and the bombast and the putting forward of pious aspirations as though they were actual plans, the gist of it seems to be that Jeremy Corbyn isn't worth the risk - this from the woman who appointed Boris Johnson to one of the great offices of state, and who apparently believes that leaving the EU without a deal is a reasonable option. In a charming personal touch, she also refers to her fellow ex-Remainer Mike Freer as "my candidate" - my, how that must have made him glow.
What makes this leaflet truly great, of course, is the way in which it has followed the gradual revelation, over the past few days, that Mike Freer's owner is nearly as brilliant at impersonating a human being as the last gurning authoritarian preacher-spawn to occupy Downing Street, the god-and-everybody-else-forsaken Gordon Brown. Better yet, only yesterday we had the strong and stable spectacle of Tin-Pot Tessie cowering in her bunker while ordering the obnoxious but hapless (and very recently bereaved) Amber Rudd to the front line in her place. The local food bank isn't the only thing about which Mike Freer is too modest: besides and beyond his long-ago laurels for fiscal responsibility, his sense of comic timing is impeccable.
One major difference is that this offering eschews the local voices of local persons for whom the local Mike Freer has got so many no-nonsense local things done, and in their place includes a national proclamation from the dead-eyed warden herself. Taking out the blather and the bombast and the putting forward of pious aspirations as though they were actual plans, the gist of it seems to be that Jeremy Corbyn isn't worth the risk - this from the woman who appointed Boris Johnson to one of the great offices of state, and who apparently believes that leaving the EU without a deal is a reasonable option. In a charming personal touch, she also refers to her fellow ex-Remainer Mike Freer as "my candidate" - my, how that must have made him glow.
What makes this leaflet truly great, of course, is the way in which it has followed the gradual revelation, over the past few days, that Mike Freer's owner is nearly as brilliant at impersonating a human being as the last gurning authoritarian preacher-spawn to occupy Downing Street, the god-and-everybody-else-forsaken Gordon Brown. Better yet, only yesterday we had the strong and stable spectacle of Tin-Pot Tessie cowering in her bunker while ordering the obnoxious but hapless (and very recently bereaved) Amber Rudd to the front line in her place. The local food bank isn't the only thing about which Mike Freer is too modest: besides and beyond his long-ago laurels for fiscal responsibility, his sense of comic timing is impeccable.
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