Farewell Liz Truss: A Twee Woke Parasite With Nothing to Offer

Well, as the actress said to the Bishop, "at least it was quick". Top Tory Truss has vacated number 10 Downing Street before she'd even found the booze cabinet and the Prozac dispenser. She will be remembered -if at all- as the British Prime Minister with the shortest term -and skirt- ever. Spare a thought for ol' George Canning, who held the low-performance title for 195 years, having checked out after 119 days. Truss didn't just break his dismal record, she positively smashed it, clocking a miniscule 44 sunrises at the helm of the Ship of State before the Mutiny of the Counties. 

Before she is consigned to her well-earned space in the dustbin of history, let's pause for a moment's reflection. How did the wise men and women of media -Britain's most insightful political commentators- describe Mary Elizabeth Truss when she arrived at the top of the slippery slope a few weeks ago?

 Well..."Liz Truss couldn't win the next election this side of a new pandemic teamed with atomic war" certainly hit the spot. And "Truss comes wearing a backpack filled with ideological Semtex" wasn't far off the mark either, considering today's stupendous explosive finale. But perhaps the perfect memorial will be the timeless phrase "A creeping, grasping chancer". So thankyou to the Times, the Guardian and the Daily Mail for those three quotes. 

Only joking! Those words were in fact my own and can be reviewed in the 99EndOf articles which detailed her abrupt and mysterious ascent up the greasy pole of various ministers power. Read the originals  [HERE] and indeed{HERE} if you fancy a trot down the Truss memory lane -albeit a very short one. I suggest that when the BBC gets round to making Truss The Movie they call it Six and a Half Weeks and cast Dianne Abbott as Chancellor Kwarteng. That'll be pretty damn diverse. 

I confess I never understood why the Tories decided to put such a tame creature up front and central. Mary Elizabeth so clearly belonged behind one of those duty-free counters at the airport, pimping out cheap perfume and flavoured vodka. She looked just perfect for that gig. Maybe that's where they found her. 

QUO VADIS

Another day, another resignation. It seems like only yesterday I was pondering the question why has the government not been declared non-essential? I now realise it has been, but I honestly hadn't expected such a prompt response. I really should ask more questions, so here's a couple.

Would you rather live under a government run by:

(A) the Conservative Party

(B) the Labour Party

(C) Wayne Rooney

If the government vanished tomorrow would you: 

         (A) panic

         (B) celebrate

         (C) not notice

On behalf of white males everywhere, I will savour a quiet yet jaunty gloat over the now very visible consequences of handing power to the Wokes of Westminster. Finding itself in the clammy hands of bug-eyed mediocre women and barely-qualified People Of Colour, the battered rump of the  British economy exploded faster than a chunk of Russian pipeline. A lesson to be learned, methinks. So the wheel of political fortune spins again...and again... If the Tories continue at the current rate of turnover, by March 2023 the entire cabinet can have a go at being Prime Minister. 

Perhaps a game show would be the answer -Britain's Got Prime Ministers- in which ambitious MPs take turns to rent 10 Downing Street for a week at their own expense. After a twenty-minute induction period in the basement with their Freemason of choice, PM of The Week would appear live in person wearing a different costume every day, pretending to run the country with their friends from college. If that ain't reality TV, what is?

It must be a tragi-comic scenario in the Truss household, though. Considering that -to save Mary's career- her old man bit his tongue and kept schtum after she was caught serial bonking the execrable Mark Field MP en route to her first cabinet (bed)post. Throughout the many beds years that followed, the Truss family must have clung together like -oh, I donno...barnacles on the belly of a narrowboat? And now all that eating crow has  turned out to be a serious waste of Viagra time. All those parties, after-parties and morning-after afters, what a palava it was. In exchange for 44 lousy days and a wardrobe full of clothes you'll never wear.

Can you imagine how much dosh Mary-Elizabeth splurged out on designer gear in these last six weeks? She was planning for G7 conferences, Climate Change Crisis talks, Big Nights Out at the WEF and the IMF and the WTF...The sorry little mouse was already turning up for work in Star Trek shoulder pads and fuck me heels as if anyone gave a rat's ass. For a moment I was going to write at least Boris Johnson didn't... but then I remembered some of the Oxbridge parties I gatecrashed back in the day. Trust me, these dudes are capable of anything. Pig's head, anyone?

Ian Andrew-Patrick

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