What is it about politicians that basically make them unable to answer a question? My master was watching Corbyn v May last night and I had to jump off the settee to get some peace. He shouted at them both and I got a bit worried for the tv’s safety, especially as I’m looking forward to the Champions League Final on Saturday.
He was very uncomplimentary about some old hippy bloke who seemed to me to be only gently reminiscing about his youth. I mean, it seems to me viewing from the pavement that everybody signed up for idealism when we were 6th formers didn’t we? But most of us grow out of it when we learn about the real world. The master was quite amusing though because he kept saying over and over “Zip-a-de-doo-dah, zippety eh, the moon is made of cheese, all you need is love, let’s tell those nasty terrorists we love them too and they should stop it at once”.
The master became even more agitated when the hippy promised more money on benefits, yelling “its not in your manifesto you tosser, more spending, where’s the money coming from”.
Then some woman school-teacher came on trying to rewrite recent history. She was telling us we’re going tell Europe to go away, we’re in charge (she must be as dreamy as my master), we’ll have a big fight (oh whoopy – do) which will mean we will have to suffer austerity (what will that mean for dogs I wonder?) for ever! Seems to this woofter she would be better telling us all that the ageing hippy has never run anything successfully in his entire hippy life, nor any of his mates either according to him indoors. I’m no expert at economics (one of the few things at which I’m not a genius) but nobody has explained to me how borrowing forever works!
The master threw the ball at me when I moved in a way that suggested I might like to try living in a socialist country. Then he screamed “Venezuela you daft mutt”. He was very upset, muttering about “you’re not coming to France with me if he wins”. Not sure what he meant.
Woof! Woof! Woof!
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