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The Crack Magazine



For the sake of ‘balance’ a Tory from the Cotswolds claims a right of reply to years of Snapper’s distortion and lies

: Our much-needed compound fracture from the rest of Europe seems to have affected more than just politics and economics, it seems to have affected our mental health too. We’re madly bouncing around, banking on whatever the Tory bingo caller comes up with next. Sixty-six! Short-term fix! But the financial markets (and the rest of the world) just won’t play with us, and, secretly, who can blame them? We’ve completely tanked the economy. We’ve ensnared our businesses in miles and miles of EU blue and yellow tape. We haven’t got the staff to run our service industries or care homes. We can’t run the nation’s train services. We’re not sure about what we’re supposed to do about the NHS, social care or climate change. We’re no longer certain who or what we are anymore. We can’t even call ourselves the sick men of Europe. We’re beyond sick, we’re just a bunch of sewage drenched posh men moaning about wokism on an island surrounded by a sea of human turds - I say men because from the shores of northern France, the tattered spectres of Snakob Fleas-Dog and Nightfall Garage are the only visible signs that anyone else exists at all. We can’t decide on who should govern. We keep on selecting the cream of the Oxbridge crop who seem to wither as soon as they hit the globally warmed chattering of the tofu eating Wokerati. We’re so desperate we’ve had to select ‘someone not like us’ to lead the party, but we’re still a ‘good idea’ free zone. How has this happened when we own every single aspect of the means of production? We own the businesses, the bosses, the army, the police, the hacks, the BBC and everything else, and, yet, we’re desperately punching and missing with our washed-up political philosophy. How can it be that we’re allowing scum like Snapper to take the piss out of us? We can’t even think of a way to ban free speech and thoughtcrime, that’s how bloody useless we are. The only foolproof idea is to rig the next election, and, don’t you worry, our Spiteful Sirs and Lord Haw Haws are already in contact with Adolf Trump and his pistol packing mammas and papas for tips on how to cheat, steal and lie to electoral victory. Tammany Hall here we come. And if it transpires that we somehow lose the next election and our judiciary still believe in the scales of justice, we’ll just have to bankrupt the economy so fundamentally that the plebs, red wall peasants and bread and circuses brigade beg us to take the power back. Coup coup ca choo, as those dreadful mop tops once sang. And on that controversial note, have a great Christmas and 2023, and, please be assured, normal service will resume next month.