It’s no yolk.

Of course you punners out there are expecting some play on a yolk joke, but no, for the first time I boiled an egg and when I cut it in half for the salad nicoise it was totally white; no yolk, no joke. Just like the grinning gargoyle, he of the all-white ucrappers, actually enough, grinning is too generous and personable he’s deeply unpleasant and has absolutely no association with humour. Just like this whole brexit bollocks, it is and they are profoundly lacking in humour and as the whole charade continues to unravel their childish petulance will continue to grow and morph into more openly fascist behaviour. Just listen to the nasty little shit talking about the horrific events in Berlin, and he’s given the oxygen of publicity, just like drumf he’s given a really unhealthy amount of uncritical media attention. And he has a go in his typically boorish and cowardly way at Brendan Cox, who’s wife has been murdered by a right wing terrorist which has barely been called such by much of our oh so liberal media, least of all by the fuck who has done so much to coarsen and traduce our politics, and the thought of the little shit being an ambassador, all be it only in his little shit mind, merely demonstrates the depths our world is descending to.


And watching ‘My Mother and Other Strangers’ a character says “keep on keeping on”.

Keep on keeping on, love Duncan.


2 thoughts on “It’s no yolk.

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