A bad week for freedom…

…but it’s Friday and I’m packing my wellies and my Barbour and heading for the hills. Where I’ll be staying this weekend they plant trees, loads of them. The only noise louder than a cow mooing is…well two cows mooing. I’ll be in spitting distance of the Sugar Loaf, sitting by the fire of the “Coach Inn” (name changed for reasons of Catatonian national security) sipping a brandy and saying no to drugs. I gave up smoking ages ago so I’m all tooled up for the ban. As for skunk, I can take it or leave it, so I think I’ll leave it to all those old hippies dad used to hang out with in Amsterdam. Times change, not that those guys would know. They still think 9/11 was a big deal. Who cares if the White House is run by a load of old Illuminati reptile aliens? So tell us something new! The Blair Brown junta have sold this country to the Pentagon anyway. Say boo and you are off to Guantanamo Bay. Not exactly my idea of a Carribean holiday! I shall just keep praying that David Cameron keeps taking his tie off and the Lib Dems keep winning by-elections. Anything but New Labour. Atilla the Hun, Ghengis Khan! Anything but more New Labour. Now they are such good friends could we maybe swap Blair for Angela Merkel.
The Road to Guantanamo Bay/Berlinale

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About Leighton Cooke

The Original Cookiemouse
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