Very reassuring to hear that our fat methane filled blimp Boris was able to make it back to London from the Cock 26 fest on his private jet, in time for dinner at The Garrick with Charles Moore, the editor of the Telegraph.
Saved the planet, whipped his MPs into voting for more sleaze, stuffed a few hundred quids worth of poncified grub past his three chins with his old boss, and no doubt battered Carries already battered cunt, till it looked more like a tramps foot, which it probably smells worse than, when he staggered back to Downing St.
We’re so lucky to have such a great leader.