"Equal parts malice and orgiastic delight"
The very idea of John Prescott having sex makes me want to vom. It’s really not a huge effort to imagine the bruiser’s bulldog-licking-piss-off-a-nettle face contorted into a sex-grimace, equal parts malice and orgiastic delight – a vile image. A real erection-killer. I wish I’d been able to visualise it when I was a bit younger and my private parts were considerably less in my control. That time on the trampoline, for example, which to this day I haven’t quite managed to live down.
What is it about politicians that makes them all want to fuck each other / their staff / their guide dog? God knows that as a breed they’re a pretty repugnant lot. Whilst I’m sure that, say, John Major* may have many redeeming qualities, raw sexual magnetism isn’t one of them. Is it? Or have I missed something?
In a way I suppose it’s quite nice (maybe nice is the wrong word: ‘apposite’ is better) that our elected representatives are just as lowdown and sleazy as the rest of us. This is, after all, a nation that cares more about what size tits Chantelle from Big Brother has, or about who the next England manager’s going to be, than the 35,000 innocent people who’ve died in US-whipped hostilities in Iraq since 2003. For example.
* heh. Can I do my “What’s grey and tastes of Currie” joke now?