Pease Pottage Conservative Club
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Pease Pottage Conservative Club
by Phil Hornby Thu Oct 13, 2011 10:02 am
First topic message reminder :
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News from our modest little home will appear here, from time to time, in due course.
You have been warned....
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News from our modest little home will appear here, from time to time, in due course.
You have been warned....
Phil Hornby- Blogger
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Re: Pease Pottage Conservative Club
by Phil Hornby Mon Feb 13, 2017 4:49 pm
Special Offer - available on Emay, only through the Club
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For Sale - pair of lady's tasteful leather trousers. Colour - Old Cow. Worn only sparingly after unfortunate Press coverage. Size - Slightly Porky. Style - Mutton Dressed as Lamb. Condition -some wear on knees after visit to the USA. Manufacturer - Morgan & Sack ( purveyors of overly-expensive garments to overly-rich women - by Appointment to Her Majesty the Prime Minister ). Price new £995 , will accept £995.
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For Sale - pair of lady's tasteful leather trousers. Colour - Old Cow. Worn only sparingly after unfortunate Press coverage. Size - Slightly Porky. Style - Mutton Dressed as Lamb. Condition -some wear on knees after visit to the USA. Manufacturer - Morgan & Sack ( purveyors of overly-expensive garments to overly-rich women - by Appointment to Her Majesty the Prime Minister ). Price new £995 , will accept £995.
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Re: Pease Pottage Conservative Club
by Phil Hornby Mon Aug 07, 2017 1:22 pm
Message from Sir Toby Walletstuffer, MA ( Oxon.) (failed), MP for Pease Pottage
Dear Club Members
Now that the appropriate period of deep mourning for the general election result has passed, I thought I might put nib to parchment with my reflections on what was the usual triumph for myself, but a bit of a calamity for Mrs May ( or Tessa the Lesser, as many colleagues now refer to her - when safe out of earshot, naturally).
Had it not been for the ability of those like me to persuade constituents to beg me once again to be their MP, we could be under the yoke of the dreaded Red Menace and find ourselves labouring in Jerry Carbine’s salt mines, with time off allowed only to read the thoughts of Chairman Mao - a fate only marginally worse than the utterings of Chairman May, it must be admitted.
Notwithstanding my personal triumph, I do recognise that the message from the electorate was that the Party as a whole needs to learn to display a tad more humility in its dealings with the ungrateful public. I shall, of course, enter willingly into the spirit of this endeavour, since I am a man of humility. Indeed, I consider myself to be the most humble man I know, and make little mention of my outstanding talents and extraordinary achievements, to the point where I am pained by my understating of just what a contribution to society I have made ( if such a thing existed – which it doesn’t). I shall say no more on the matter, except to reiterate my notable modesty and reticence in talking about my multitude of talents.
I know that my previous majority was somewhat reduced on account of Terrible Theresa not ordering sufficient austerity for the masses and this obviously played into the hands of my principal opponents – Stan Stoat, the Labour veteran, who doubled his vote both at my expense ( the cheek of the fellow!) and that of the UKIP candidate, Basil Blaxout, who had been amongst the favourites to become the 24th leader of his party since 2015.
The denting of the Walletstuffer margin of victory this time round was also, I firmly believe, partly due to local factors, such as the malevolence of Miss Hortensia Lace-Curtain, whose cat, Himmler, I accidentally ran over with my Bentley, whilst canvassing. Honestly, she made such a fuss, despite my heroic attempts to revive it by the use of my vehicle’s foot-pump. Admittedly I did, in my anxiety, effect connection to the wrong end of said feline - and it did inflate rather dramatically before exploding messily- but I did my best. In any event , it was only what they seem to call a Persian Blue, and the lady should acknowledge that this is now a time of dispensing with foreign imports and certainly those of a dubious hue. But it appears that Miss L-C went about the area calling me all manner of obscenities, of which ‘Tory Pussy Pumper’ was amongst the more repeatable.
Another slight cloud over my victory is the threat of investigation from officers nosing into so-called ‘electoral fraud’. However, I have few worries on that score and am confident my explanation of the large sums in expenses rung up in Dusky Deidre's Champagne and Pole-Dancing Bar will be readily accepted.
So, all in all , it’s head up and once more into the challenge of seeing how much a deserving MP can make to supplement a meagre parliamentary salary with a few well-chosen directorships, and what progress will ensue in pushing forward the urgent priorities of the nation such a return to fox-hunting and ruining the economy by leaving the EU quicker than one can say ‘ Kiss my Brexit’…
_________________________________________________________
This note was dictated by Sir Toby at his holiday home in Mustique, from where he promises to return by January 2018, if not later…
Dear Club Members
Now that the appropriate period of deep mourning for the general election result has passed, I thought I might put nib to parchment with my reflections on what was the usual triumph for myself, but a bit of a calamity for Mrs May ( or Tessa the Lesser, as many colleagues now refer to her - when safe out of earshot, naturally).
Had it not been for the ability of those like me to persuade constituents to beg me once again to be their MP, we could be under the yoke of the dreaded Red Menace and find ourselves labouring in Jerry Carbine’s salt mines, with time off allowed only to read the thoughts of Chairman Mao - a fate only marginally worse than the utterings of Chairman May, it must be admitted.
Notwithstanding my personal triumph, I do recognise that the message from the electorate was that the Party as a whole needs to learn to display a tad more humility in its dealings with the ungrateful public. I shall, of course, enter willingly into the spirit of this endeavour, since I am a man of humility. Indeed, I consider myself to be the most humble man I know, and make little mention of my outstanding talents and extraordinary achievements, to the point where I am pained by my understating of just what a contribution to society I have made ( if such a thing existed – which it doesn’t). I shall say no more on the matter, except to reiterate my notable modesty and reticence in talking about my multitude of talents.
I know that my previous majority was somewhat reduced on account of Terrible Theresa not ordering sufficient austerity for the masses and this obviously played into the hands of my principal opponents – Stan Stoat, the Labour veteran, who doubled his vote both at my expense ( the cheek of the fellow!) and that of the UKIP candidate, Basil Blaxout, who had been amongst the favourites to become the 24th leader of his party since 2015.
The denting of the Walletstuffer margin of victory this time round was also, I firmly believe, partly due to local factors, such as the malevolence of Miss Hortensia Lace-Curtain, whose cat, Himmler, I accidentally ran over with my Bentley, whilst canvassing. Honestly, she made such a fuss, despite my heroic attempts to revive it by the use of my vehicle’s foot-pump. Admittedly I did, in my anxiety, effect connection to the wrong end of said feline - and it did inflate rather dramatically before exploding messily- but I did my best. In any event , it was only what they seem to call a Persian Blue, and the lady should acknowledge that this is now a time of dispensing with foreign imports and certainly those of a dubious hue. But it appears that Miss L-C went about the area calling me all manner of obscenities, of which ‘Tory Pussy Pumper’ was amongst the more repeatable.
Another slight cloud over my victory is the threat of investigation from officers nosing into so-called ‘electoral fraud’. However, I have few worries on that score and am confident my explanation of the large sums in expenses rung up in Dusky Deidre's Champagne and Pole-Dancing Bar will be readily accepted.
So, all in all , it’s head up and once more into the challenge of seeing how much a deserving MP can make to supplement a meagre parliamentary salary with a few well-chosen directorships, and what progress will ensue in pushing forward the urgent priorities of the nation such a return to fox-hunting and ruining the economy by leaving the EU quicker than one can say ‘ Kiss my Brexit’…
_________________________________________________________
This note was dictated by Sir Toby at his holiday home in Mustique, from where he promises to return by January 2018, if not later…
Phil Hornby- Blogger
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Join date : 2011-10-07
Location : Drifting on Easy Street
Re: Pease Pottage Conservative Club
by Phil Hornby Fri Sep 22, 2017 5:53 pm
Today at the Club...
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Our picture shows eager members of the Club's Young Tory Upstarts in the Rees-Mogg Suite, being offered the privilege, by Miss Rosalind Brecksit- Nutter , of watching Mrs May's speech to the EU - following which, those of the keen participants who hadn't fallen asleep or thrown anything not screwed down at the screen, were additionally treated to Marmite sandwiches and ginger beer ( made in Britain) to celebrate the long-overdue return of true national values of a healthy afternoon snack and talking down to foreigners.
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Our picture shows eager members of the Club's Young Tory Upstarts in the Rees-Mogg Suite, being offered the privilege, by Miss Rosalind Brecksit- Nutter , of watching Mrs May's speech to the EU - following which, those of the keen participants who hadn't fallen asleep or thrown anything not screwed down at the screen, were additionally treated to Marmite sandwiches and ginger beer ( made in Britain) to celebrate the long-overdue return of true national values of a healthy afternoon snack and talking down to foreigners.
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Join date : 2011-10-07
Location : Drifting on Easy Street
Re: Pease Pottage Conservative Club
by Phil Hornby Sat Sep 30, 2017 5:19 pm
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Great excitement as our male Club members set out for this year's Conference, confident that their sturdy chargers will cope admirably with the M25, M1 and M6, aided by shouts from our number of "Make way for your betters" at any motorist sufficiently impertinent to hinder progress. Onward to tame the northern hordes!
Meanwhile, the ladies - including former 'Miss Pease Pottage 1937' -Gladys Dribbler ( second left) take tea while waiting for their transport to the airport for the Ryanair flight to Manchester, which is expected to arrive sometime in November ( pilots' leave permitting).
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All those pictured are huge fans of the Prime Minister, even though they all think it is still Mrs Thatcher and that it is about time that rationing ended...
Great excitement as our male Club members set out for this year's Conference, confident that their sturdy chargers will cope admirably with the M25, M1 and M6, aided by shouts from our number of "Make way for your betters" at any motorist sufficiently impertinent to hinder progress. Onward to tame the northern hordes!
Meanwhile, the ladies - including former 'Miss Pease Pottage 1937' -Gladys Dribbler ( second left) take tea while waiting for their transport to the airport for the Ryanair flight to Manchester, which is expected to arrive sometime in November ( pilots' leave permitting).
[You must be registered and logged in to see this image.]
All those pictured are huge fans of the Prime Minister, even though they all think it is still Mrs Thatcher and that it is about time that rationing ended...
Phil Hornby- Blogger
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Join date : 2011-10-07
Location : Drifting on Easy Street
Re: Pease Pottage Conservative Club
by Phil Hornby Mon Oct 02, 2017 8:56 pm
Conference Notes...
The Chairman's grandson, Crispian Chumley-Pipsqueak - himself chairman of the Club's Young Tory Upstarts, offers his reflections on important events in Manchester.
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Now pay attention to what I am saying or I shall tell Grandpa and he will give you a huge telling- off when he sobers up on Wednesday.
This is the first time I have actually been allowed to attend at Conference ( or as the Club grown -ups call it, something like ‘The Annual Hiss Up’ ). In past years I have had to hear about all the goings-on from Grandpa, and I only understood some of what was happening, but now I am nearly eleven, I know everything and can make a proper contribution to debates by shouting out things like’ Rubbish!’, ‘I think you’ll find you have that wrong…’ and ‘Can I stay up until 9 o’clock if I stop interrupting?’. So impressed is everyone with my stupendous knowledge that they say I might be put in the Cupboard for duration of the event – which I assume is a sort of junior version of the Cabinet. Many people have told me this week that I am destined to have a very interesting future if I go on the way I am, and that I know almost a a quarter as much as I think I do.
I am a big fan of Mr Boris who makes me laugh so much when I listen to him that I occasionally wet myself a little, but Mummy says she will have a word about it with the doctor ( and also mention my other little habit which I won’t talk about here, but which Mummy says won’t really make my hands hairy).
Mr Boris is far better than Mrs May, whom Grandpa calls a ‘bossy old cow' - which is rather impolite as cows are useful creatures and contribute much to Society ( if there were such a thing, which there isn’t). Indeed, the only similarity between cows and Mrs May is that they both leave a bit of a ness behind them wherever they go.
My favourite subject for discussion at present is Brexit , now that I have discovered that it is not a new type of chocolate bar, but something which will allow us all to take back control of something or another, and will help us to re-create the Empire, which, I seem to recall, was a cinema where I used to go to Saturday morning pictures and watch ‘The Daring Tales of Maggie, the Wicked Demon Witch’. In truth this was a bit scary and Mummy thinks that it was the beginning of my bed-wetting and caused the other deeply troubling psychological problems which led me to adopt such an interest in Tory political thought.
Today we heard Mr Hammond tell us that everything is going terrifically well and that the future is rosy for everyone who has a few million pounds in their piggy-banks. I think they said he was the Chancer or an ex-checker, but what he used to check for wasn’t entirely clear. Perhaps it was to make sure that evil fellow they call Jeremiah wasn’t planning some dastardly ploy to make life better for people and winning lots of votes by having some sensible policies for the country. All of us in the hall who hadn’t slipped out for an early lunch and a cherryade were of the view that making people content was not what the nation needs and that they would be far happier being miserable under the stewardship of whoever will replace Mrs May when she is knifed in the back in that traditional way we Tories have for dealing with failed leaders.
It has been such an interesting day and I have enjoyed myself so much that I shall treat myself to a stiff banana milkshake before retiring for the night with my favourite book – ‘Universal Credit for Beginners’…
The Chairman's grandson, Crispian Chumley-Pipsqueak - himself chairman of the Club's Young Tory Upstarts, offers his reflections on important events in Manchester.
[You must be registered and logged in to see this image.]
Now pay attention to what I am saying or I shall tell Grandpa and he will give you a huge telling- off when he sobers up on Wednesday.
This is the first time I have actually been allowed to attend at Conference ( or as the Club grown -ups call it, something like ‘The Annual Hiss Up’ ). In past years I have had to hear about all the goings-on from Grandpa, and I only understood some of what was happening, but now I am nearly eleven, I know everything and can make a proper contribution to debates by shouting out things like’ Rubbish!’, ‘I think you’ll find you have that wrong…’ and ‘Can I stay up until 9 o’clock if I stop interrupting?’. So impressed is everyone with my stupendous knowledge that they say I might be put in the Cupboard for duration of the event – which I assume is a sort of junior version of the Cabinet. Many people have told me this week that I am destined to have a very interesting future if I go on the way I am, and that I know almost a a quarter as much as I think I do.
I am a big fan of Mr Boris who makes me laugh so much when I listen to him that I occasionally wet myself a little, but Mummy says she will have a word about it with the doctor ( and also mention my other little habit which I won’t talk about here, but which Mummy says won’t really make my hands hairy).
Mr Boris is far better than Mrs May, whom Grandpa calls a ‘bossy old cow' - which is rather impolite as cows are useful creatures and contribute much to Society ( if there were such a thing, which there isn’t). Indeed, the only similarity between cows and Mrs May is that they both leave a bit of a ness behind them wherever they go.
My favourite subject for discussion at present is Brexit , now that I have discovered that it is not a new type of chocolate bar, but something which will allow us all to take back control of something or another, and will help us to re-create the Empire, which, I seem to recall, was a cinema where I used to go to Saturday morning pictures and watch ‘The Daring Tales of Maggie, the Wicked Demon Witch’. In truth this was a bit scary and Mummy thinks that it was the beginning of my bed-wetting and caused the other deeply troubling psychological problems which led me to adopt such an interest in Tory political thought.
Today we heard Mr Hammond tell us that everything is going terrifically well and that the future is rosy for everyone who has a few million pounds in their piggy-banks. I think they said he was the Chancer or an ex-checker, but what he used to check for wasn’t entirely clear. Perhaps it was to make sure that evil fellow they call Jeremiah wasn’t planning some dastardly ploy to make life better for people and winning lots of votes by having some sensible policies for the country. All of us in the hall who hadn’t slipped out for an early lunch and a cherryade were of the view that making people content was not what the nation needs and that they would be far happier being miserable under the stewardship of whoever will replace Mrs May when she is knifed in the back in that traditional way we Tories have for dealing with failed leaders.
It has been such an interesting day and I have enjoyed myself so much that I shall treat myself to a stiff banana milkshake before retiring for the night with my favourite book – ‘Universal Credit for Beginners’…
Phil Hornby- Blogger
- Posts : 4002
Join date : 2011-10-07
Location : Drifting on Easy Street
Re: Pease Pottage Conservative Club
by Phil Hornby Wed Oct 04, 2017 1:16 pm
More News from Master Crispian -your Conference Correspondent...
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Hello – I know everyone is waiting for more news of my simply super adventures at the Conservative Party Conference, although I did have to miss a bit of yesterday’s excitement because I got a tummy ache after eating a large number of jam doughnuts with Mr Boris and a chap called Mr Pickles, who looks as if he is a very experienced scoffer of all sort of pies and pastries!
But my presence in the Conference Hall has obviously been noticed as I was given a special treat for having been quiet for approaching 20 minutes without making rude noises as some boring person spoke. Today I was allowed to be one of those very important helpers who stands at the side of the stage holding a large notice which says “Clap and cheer loudly now!” during Mrs May’s speech.
I would really have preferred to be one of those who either passed her that note from Mr Boris ( but signed by only 253 other folk) telling her to hurry up and get it over with, or offering throat lozenges to her when she choked due to telling so many whoppers as she led forth, but instead I had to content myself with waving my notice every five seconds so that the hall went into 'ovations mode' to disguise the fact that the PM had to keep stopping as she is so useless in delivering platitudes that nobody really believes anyway. I suppose it was the political equivalent of those footballers who waste a lot of time in the final 5 minutes of a match , hoping that the other team won’t beat them and I secretly hoped that the Conference referee might blow his whistle to put poor Mrs May out of her misery - which was almost as great as my own in having to listen to such drivel as the suggestion that her grandmother used to be sent up chimneys to sweep them and only had powdered glass to eat for tea.
Having canvassed opinion from interested parties – including our local MP, Sir Toby Walletstuffer , who loyally watched the speech from the comfort of a bar in Venice, – we agreed that the coughing was the highlight and is likely to get us a great deal with the EU negotiators , who will be keen to agree to anything just to avoid Mrs May’s germs being inflicted upon them as she splutters at them across the table. I suppose the mean-spirited might suggest it is some sort of EU-inspired justice that she got a Frog in her throat at the vital moment...
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Hello – I know everyone is waiting for more news of my simply super adventures at the Conservative Party Conference, although I did have to miss a bit of yesterday’s excitement because I got a tummy ache after eating a large number of jam doughnuts with Mr Boris and a chap called Mr Pickles, who looks as if he is a very experienced scoffer of all sort of pies and pastries!
But my presence in the Conference Hall has obviously been noticed as I was given a special treat for having been quiet for approaching 20 minutes without making rude noises as some boring person spoke. Today I was allowed to be one of those very important helpers who stands at the side of the stage holding a large notice which says “Clap and cheer loudly now!” during Mrs May’s speech.
I would really have preferred to be one of those who either passed her that note from Mr Boris ( but signed by only 253 other folk) telling her to hurry up and get it over with, or offering throat lozenges to her when she choked due to telling so many whoppers as she led forth, but instead I had to content myself with waving my notice every five seconds so that the hall went into 'ovations mode' to disguise the fact that the PM had to keep stopping as she is so useless in delivering platitudes that nobody really believes anyway. I suppose it was the political equivalent of those footballers who waste a lot of time in the final 5 minutes of a match , hoping that the other team won’t beat them and I secretly hoped that the Conference referee might blow his whistle to put poor Mrs May out of her misery - which was almost as great as my own in having to listen to such drivel as the suggestion that her grandmother used to be sent up chimneys to sweep them and only had powdered glass to eat for tea.
Having canvassed opinion from interested parties – including our local MP, Sir Toby Walletstuffer , who loyally watched the speech from the comfort of a bar in Venice, – we agreed that the coughing was the highlight and is likely to get us a great deal with the EU negotiators , who will be keen to agree to anything just to avoid Mrs May’s germs being inflicted upon them as she splutters at them across the table. I suppose the mean-spirited might suggest it is some sort of EU-inspired justice that she got a Frog in her throat at the vital moment...
Phil Hornby- Blogger
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Join date : 2011-10-07
Location : Drifting on Easy Street
Re: Pease Pottage Conservative Club
by Phil Hornby Thu Oct 05, 2017 8:25 pm
Conference Dying Embers...
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Heartbreaking though it will be for you all, this is my final report on this year's highly successful Conference , during which our splendid Prime Minister ( at the time of writing) made it abundantly clear to the whole nation just what she is made of - talking of which we had some simply luscious jelly for dessert after dinner last night. There were lots of different flavours -I think mine was a lime one, although some people were saying that Mrs May deserved a raspberry.
The chat around the dinner table was a bit difficult for me to comprehend but some chaps were sniggering, saying something about Mrs May needing her chest rubbed by some fisherman's friend, but none of it made sense to me - much like her speech earlier. Anyway, by the end of the evening everyone was agreed that the disaster had been a complete triumph and all that was needed to set everything right was to get the Daily Mail to find somebody else to blame for Mrs May's cough . I did venture to enquire why Dr Fox hadn't stepped forward to effect a cure, but those around me told me sympathetically that I didn't really understand and that was why they had no alternative but to beat me around the head with that magazine containing pictures of naked ladies, which Mr Boris had in his pocket.
All in all I shall look back on my first Conference as a stepping stone to my ambition of becoming a Tory MP (provided, of course, that I don't ruin my chances by accidentally developing a conscience or sense of common decency in the next few years). I have certainly obtained some useful tips from several important people at the Conference : Mr Hague advised me never to wear a baseball cap, Mr Hunt suggested it was best never to become ill, Mr Davis told me to make sure I got a job which involved no more than 3 days' work a month, and Mr Boris said never to be caught with my trousers off, which made me laugh so much again that, ironically, it was the very next thing I had to do...
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Heartbreaking though it will be for you all, this is my final report on this year's highly successful Conference , during which our splendid Prime Minister ( at the time of writing) made it abundantly clear to the whole nation just what she is made of - talking of which we had some simply luscious jelly for dessert after dinner last night. There were lots of different flavours -I think mine was a lime one, although some people were saying that Mrs May deserved a raspberry.
The chat around the dinner table was a bit difficult for me to comprehend but some chaps were sniggering, saying something about Mrs May needing her chest rubbed by some fisherman's friend, but none of it made sense to me - much like her speech earlier. Anyway, by the end of the evening everyone was agreed that the disaster had been a complete triumph and all that was needed to set everything right was to get the Daily Mail to find somebody else to blame for Mrs May's cough . I did venture to enquire why Dr Fox hadn't stepped forward to effect a cure, but those around me told me sympathetically that I didn't really understand and that was why they had no alternative but to beat me around the head with that magazine containing pictures of naked ladies, which Mr Boris had in his pocket.
All in all I shall look back on my first Conference as a stepping stone to my ambition of becoming a Tory MP (provided, of course, that I don't ruin my chances by accidentally developing a conscience or sense of common decency in the next few years). I have certainly obtained some useful tips from several important people at the Conference : Mr Hague advised me never to wear a baseball cap, Mr Hunt suggested it was best never to become ill, Mr Davis told me to make sure I got a job which involved no more than 3 days' work a month, and Mr Boris said never to be caught with my trousers off, which made me laugh so much again that, ironically, it was the very next thing I had to do...
Phil Hornby- Blogger
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Re: Pease Pottage Conservative Club
by Phil Hornby Sun Dec 24, 2017 12:23 pm
The Prime Minister's Seasonal Message to the Nation
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" Have an enjoyable Christmas, plebs - because you sure as hell won't have a happy 2018 if I can help it..."
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" Have an enjoyable Christmas, plebs - because you sure as hell won't have a happy 2018 if I can help it..."
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Re: Pease Pottage Conservative Club
by Phil Hornby Thu Dec 28, 2017 5:02 pm
Pease Pottage Conservative Club to close - latest reactions...
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"Where...?"
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" Serves them right for not inviting me to open their Brexit Bring and Buy Sale last year..."
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" I blame the Islamists...or the Mexicans -what the hell...?"
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"Where...?"
[You must be registered and logged in to see this image.](hello)
" Serves them right for not inviting me to open their Brexit Bring and Buy Sale last year..."
[You must be registered and logged in to see this image.](political suicide)
" I blame the Islamists...or the Mexicans -what the hell...?"
Phil Hornby- Blogger
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Re: Pease Pottage Conservative Club
by Phil Hornby Thu Dec 28, 2017 7:38 pm
The Chairman's Grandson Speaks...
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I say - what dashed rotten luck that the Club is closing down on 31 December. There was me hoping to follow very soon in Grandpa's footsteps and become Club Chairman, and the grown-ups go and make such a hash of everything that we have had a notice to quit the premises and are in big trouble with the auditors for some false accounting.
Honestly! All we have been doing if seeking to mimic the government's approach to running the show , but it seems that not even the very large bribes we have paid to the chaps who verify our accounts can save us from the present conundrum. You'd have thought that the sheer amount of cash that Grandpa and his chums put over the bar would have kept us afloat, but not even that can fend off the inevitable.
As you can imagine , in the true spirit of the Tory brotherhood, everyone is currently running around trying to find somebody to blame for the mess we are in . Maybe it is the EU or the Labour Party; perhaps it is all those foreigners in the country, or the BBC, or the general public .
One thing is for sure - it cannot have been ourselves...
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I say - what dashed rotten luck that the Club is closing down on 31 December. There was me hoping to follow very soon in Grandpa's footsteps and become Club Chairman, and the grown-ups go and make such a hash of everything that we have had a notice to quit the premises and are in big trouble with the auditors for some false accounting.
Honestly! All we have been doing if seeking to mimic the government's approach to running the show , but it seems that not even the very large bribes we have paid to the chaps who verify our accounts can save us from the present conundrum. You'd have thought that the sheer amount of cash that Grandpa and his chums put over the bar would have kept us afloat, but not even that can fend off the inevitable.
As you can imagine , in the true spirit of the Tory brotherhood, everyone is currently running around trying to find somebody to blame for the mess we are in . Maybe it is the EU or the Labour Party; perhaps it is all those foreigners in the country, or the BBC, or the general public .
One thing is for sure - it cannot have been ourselves...
Phil Hornby- Blogger
- Posts : 4002
Join date : 2011-10-07
Location : Drifting on Easy Street
Re: Pease Pottage Conservative Club
by Phil Hornby Fri Dec 29, 2017 1:27 pm
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Phil Hornby- Blogger
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