Today is the day David “call me gay” Cameron was, politely but firmly, evicted from Number 10 as The Icecold Bitch occupies the premises for… we shall see how long.
Cameron will very probably be remembered as a pathetic figure of politician. A man without any “real world” work experience apart from some PR work, he was the perfect example of what happens when people without faith, without scruple and without experience are given too much power.
Elected with the promise of driving a credible Conservative line with a more attractive PR package, Cameron soon began to eat his words and work at a radical “re-education” of the party. Six months after his election, the claim was let out to the press in five years' time he wanted half of the old party members out, substituted for new, more “modern” ones. This is exactly what happened, as the man alienated a growing number of traditional Conservatives, slowly but certainly fuelling the fortunes of the UKIP.
In 2010, he imposed the now notorious “Cameron Cuties” in a vast number of normally safe constituencies. The latter were the type of “new party” the man wanted to ram down the throat of the electorate: fags, women, minorities. It didn't work, and the “cuties” fared extremely badly, basically costing the man an otherwise assured absolute majority against the pathetic, painful to watch, and embarrassing to his mother Gordon Brown. This was another example of a man living in a bubble, and thinking that the Country thinks like his “progressive” wife and her friends.
Alas, Cameron avoided on that occasion the well-sharpened Conservative knives by managing to lead a coalition government. The arrangement was also after his own personal liking, as the liaison with the LibDems allowed him to run the country from the left of his party's centre of gravity. The most evident example of this is in the act that – bar repentance – will most certainly lead the man to hell: the “same-sex marriage” legislation he imposed on his own ranks and files in order to keep having sex with his extremely liberal, extremely meddling and extremely bitchy wife.
Cameron also refused a referendum prior to the ratification of the Lisbon Treaty, and again the coalition arrangement allowed him to get away with it. But in secular Toryland this caused a resentment far stronger than the opposition to the sexual abomination. In order to survive, he had to promise a referendum on the EU for after the 2015 elections; clearly thinking that the coalition to be formed in such a scenario would have prevented it. It was still all fine in Faggoland: an expected coalition victory against pathetic Ed Miliband, and no obligation to fight against the EU.
However, things changed radically in April 2015, when the total meltdown of the LibDems left Cameron with an unexpected – and, as I am totally sure, undesired – absolute majority. Things were becoming more difficult for him, now that he was held in power by Members of Parliament on average certainly more conservative than him. For the first time, the man would be held accountable for Conservative policies, no excuses given. Cameron was, for the first time, one who had to deliver, and no excuses allowed.
Those conservative MPs weren't very savage on same-sex marriage, but they felt the breath of the UKIP hounds on their neck and were (as a whole) far angrier about the EU. Cameron couldn't now avoid confronting the huge issue of the EU referendum. He had a last round of negotiation with the EU, out of which came little more than a PR exercise. It is absolutely not true, as I have read in the foreign press several times, that at this point Cameron chose to have the referendum. He simply knew he would not have survived without it, and the Conservative knives were being eagerly sharpened in case of refusal. He simply had no choice.
Still, he thought he could win easily. But once again, his arrogance and absence of real world work experience proved a great limit and, in this case, his undoing. As things began to become complicated he leant too much out of the window for Remain, factually insulting as racists and xenophobic those MPs (around 40%) who were in favour of leaving. Big, big mistake, as even a strong leader can't seriously anger four tenths of his MPs; much less a weakling like Cameron.
A strong Remain victory would have probably saved him – at least for the time being – once again, but it was clear at the vigil of the vote that a narrow victory would not have been enough. If he has some brain, he must have known already around midnight of voting day that he was well and truly, ahem, same-sex screwed. At midnight of the Thursday I was expecting him not to survive until the following evening.
As we all know, the night went differently, and Cameron announced his departure when the Friday was still very young. There was no feeling of a historic moment, as when Thatcher or Blair left. There was, rather, the feeling that this one was already forgotten, a dwarf swallowed by events – the progressive awakening of an electorate told too much rubbish for too long – far bigger than his little, slick, oily self.
The man will be remembered as a giant failure: unable to win a majority against even Gordon Brown, pushing the party in an urbanite, Demi-fag direction resented by millions, bitching against the EU but unable to carve an acceptable role for Britain within it, and finally buried by a referendum he did not want, was forced to start, and played miserably.
The best indication of the scale of the man's failure is given by the two “achievements” his friends and allies are now trying to sell to an extremely sceptical population: the economic recovery (which is a worldwide phenomenon and economic cycle he can certainly not attribute to himself) and the so-called “same-sex marriage”, the contrary of everything decent or conservative.
The PM of six years was booed, basically on his way out of office, by the public of Wimbledon after a Brit had just won. He wasn't even allowed a dignified exit. He was recognised for the phony and fraud he has always been, and treated accordingly.
If he thinks he got a hard deal, he only has to die unrepentant and he will discover what real trouble really looks like.
Good riddance, David Cameron. I doubt you will save your soul, but I will say a prayer for a hypocritical sellout of conservatism like you, too.
As I speak, the United Kingdom is living the aftermath of a shocking bloodbath. Not entirely a genocide, but certainly a mass murder. No, let me correct it: a public mass execution, Tyburn Tree-style, but multiple times.
Since yesterday evening, when the first exit poll were published, there had been rumours of an incumbent massacre. It was everywhere. Not even the pollsters could believe it.
The LibDems denied vehemently. It cannot be, they said. We are so good, people can't treat us this way. Think of all the “gays” to whom we have told “their love is worth as much as anyone else's”. No, it cannot be. We cannot be massacred in that way. Ten Members of Parliament remaining, out of Fifty-Seven? You got to be kidding me. Lord Ashdown couldn't even see the now giant torpedo flying very low in the direction of his party. Poor man, he is a LibDem. They have some problems coping with reality. If this is true, he said, he would publicly eat his hat.
I hope Lord Ashdown likes hats for dinner; and I hope I will witness his public eating live. For the records, hats can be perfectly edible. One expects a man to keep his word. Even a LibDem politician.
Of the Fifty-Seven not quite ten, but, actually … only eight have survived. The Country has made a massacre of LibDem Members of Parliament in Charles Manson-style; but only after mass sodomisation, which even Charles Manson would have probably considered too cruel. The LibDems probably liked the last bit, as it must have showed them how many facettes – Clegg speaks French, remember! – the love of the British people for them has. They must feel very happy, and very gay, that they have been the objects of such an exercise in non-conventional love.
They were Fifty-Seven before the battle.
They knew they would be casualties, but this is worse than that.
This is not a defeat. This is not even a rout.
This is Afghan ritual disembowelling.
Why, then, does your truly feel the need to express his boundless enthusiasm at the gruesome news?
Firstly, because a party which was the most vocal proponent of so-called same sex marriage has received the Giant Dildo Treatment before their almost annihilation. I am not so naive to think it was because of their support for sexual perversion; but one takes the good news as they come.
Secondly, because David “Chameleon” Cameron will now be forced to fake Conservatism with more enthusiasm. Again, I do not expect a resurgence of Christian values, but I think that things are slowly moving in the right direction. Cameron isn't dumb. He knows he is now far less in control than he used to be, and can't use the LibDems as an excuse. He also knows that the knives meant for his back are, in purest Tory tradition, always sharp. He may be happy he is still in power, but he knows a PM is as strong as his charisma and following, and he clearly lacks both. The demise of the LibDems deprives him of one leg. He won't feel comfortable surrounded by an all-Tory team.
Thirdly, because the only halfway sane party in the Country, the UKIP, has garnered almost four million votes and is now very officially the third biggest party by number of voters. A development, this, that will send very cold shivers down the spine of many newly-elected Tory MPs, and will further contribute to a slow return to something vaguely resembling sanity. The UKIP only got one MP, I know; but I am one of those who think that the cruel first-past-the-post system in use in the UK forces MPs to think of their possible demise at the next election all the time. Ask Ed (cut) Balls if you don't believe me.
The Country went to sleep sensing a big surprise, and woke up with an ever bigger one; this afternoon, the surprise is staggeringly complete.
This Country has moved to the right in a way that even Cameron must find unwelcome. It is by far not enough, but it is a first step.
For the moment, let's enjoy this massacre. You never know what surprises the Lord has in store for us.
And pray, pray for this Country.
Once the Dowry of Mary, now the Whore of Elton
The “Gay PM”, David “Chameleon” Cameron, warned us about the danger of antibiotic resistance.
For you outside of the UK, this is how it works here: the PM’s advisors have a meeting and decide what they will do to get in the headlines tomorrow. Something reminding the voting riff-raff what a fine mind the PM is. One new committe here, one new initiative or “policy” there. No issue is too trivial but world threats look good, too. Tomorrow it will be forgotten, but it’s the headline for today.
On this occasion, “Chameleon” Cameron has it knows the “dark ages” are, for such an enlightened mind as his, very bad.
An age that did not even think of legalising abortion, did not conceive divorce, would have utterly disgusted even at mentioning sodomy, and made of God the first priority in everyday life is, for him, “dark ages”. The Britain he has helped to shape, a huge Sodom with the addition of Olympic Games, is the epitome of progress and civilisation. It is us who live in very bleak times, not they who lived in dark ones.
I do not know whether it is a Catholic thing, but we in Italy say “middle age”, and divide it in “high” and “low”. Darkness is nothing to do with it. It seems the honest and factual approach to me.
Compared with today, actually, one must say it of Cameron “dark ages”: what a luminous age it was.
My affectionate readers already know Maria Miller, because I have already written how – bar a desirable but improbable repentance – she is going to hell.
What many of my readers might not know is that said Mrs Miller was forced to resign this morning, after her political backside had looked more and more threatened by that kind of torpedo-shaped same-sex loving she so eagerly celebrates.
In Mrs Miller case, the scandals had compounded. A first enquiry about her expenses had led to veiled threats to the press, as the female put – through third parties – her role in the proposed regulation of the press into play. Not very classy; not very intelligent, either; and in short, very Sicilian: capisci? Needless to say, the press was, erm, not impressed, and the female in trouble.
To these two scandals others were adding. The fine of around £50,000 proposed by an independent commission for the expense matter was reduced to around a tenth of the original amount by a committee of MPs, which in itself was scandalous and self-serving enough. But the same-sex-loving female made it worse, appearing in Parliament and giving the shortest and most arrogant of apologies. The men at the chronometer dissent here: some said 32 seconds, some 34, some actually 28. Whichever it was, it was another demonstration the woman is unfit to represent her cat, and a prime example of MP entitlement and arrogance.
When it turned out she had, finally, sold a property with more than £1m profit and not paid a penny of Capital Gain Tax through a trick legally allowed to MPs but morally not acceptable – and not open to the likes of us – it was clear she was, as the Italians so beautifully say, a political walking corpse. It is, in fact, indicative of the incompetence and lack of contact with the common people of this Prime Minister that he thought he could save himself and his government this embarrassment by defending her when the flak was massive and, even, strongest from his own party. But then again Cameron never cared for his party, so all normal here.
On Tuesday afternoon, even my cat was moving his head in disbelief. By late Tuesday evening, Cameron had given Mrs Miller, in a personal meeting, a huge Celebration Dildo – a metaphorical one, I know; but surely a very painful one nevertheless – as a “thank you” for her useful work on the side of the nation's perverts. Time to practice what she preaches, I am afraid. This does call for a celebration. By mid-morning today, the gift – and his metaphorical use – had been made public.
Good riddance to Mrs Miller. She will go – bar an always welcome repentance – to hell anyway. But it is nice to know that her political career, built very largely upon the promotion and celebration of sexual perversion, has now ended with her nose in full contact with a pavement concrete slab, and her name is now running for the prize of Most Arrogant MP After The 2009 Expenses Scandal.
I hope she enjoyed the metaphorical same-sex loving.
She deserved – metaphorically speaking, of course – nothing less.
Aaaahhhh, this is good for the heart.
The European Elections are coming. An excellent way to send a message.
My vote goes to the UKIP. Not that they are exempt from faggotry infiltrations, but it’s better to let them know what pays electorally and what not, and at the same time show the Tories where the votes go when they behave like Eltons.
And punish that faggot.
Punish that faggot.
From yesterday, “backpedaling” is officially called “making a second decision”; or so does the Gay President believe.
Methinks, the evidence of the Syrian government having carried out the attack is rather thin; and the Gay President, being, erm, gay, has decided to
back make a second decision. It appears after the defeat of the Gay PM in the UK other allies have become more cautious, or more probably a sustained bombing campaign without the support of the still special ally wouldn't look very much “hope and change”.
What a Christian notices is that the dangers for the Syrian Christians have not played any role. It is probable that attacks will be carried out in the end, and the Syrian regime (our sons of a bitch, remember…) will be more or less weakened, and perhaps crushed, by way of the attacks. Or it can be that Obama will only order “cosmetic” attacks to show he really cares for humaniteee, but these attacks will result in nothing more than an embarrassment for the Syrian government. In all cases, Christians in the area will not play any role. Obama calls himself a Christian only for reasons of political convenience, but is a fully secularised atheist with an emotional link to the Islam he grew up with.
I can only imagine that here two interests have converged: Obama's desire to appear the human rights angel, and the desire of the Pentagon to give a sound thrashing to Hizbollah and, indirectly, Iran. If this is so, the British stance has not changed anything in the second motive but it has radically changed the first: you can't play “hope and change” and the humanitarian paladin when your closest ally clearly indicates you are a cowboy.
Still, I wanted to share with you my discovery of the new way of saying “backpedaling”.
It is rumoured the first Western bombs might fall on Syrian target as early as tomorrow, Thursday, though I think the Western public opinion will need some day more to digest the news.
One wonders if the same zeal would have been put on display had it been discovered that the rebels are the authors of the chemical weapons deployment.
When G.W. Bush bombed some sense into Iraq without any definitive proof of massive chemical weapons held there, the entire socialist/pacifist/alternative/perverted world couldn't feel good enough condemning him. Mind: Saddam was a man whose cruelty was above suspicion, and who had already practiced genocide on a terrifying scale. The most dangerous man on the planet, bar none.
This time there is, again, no smoking gun that the Syrian regime has used chemical weapons; the scale of the alleged attack is, for what it's worth, infinitely smaller; and yes, the Syrian government poses thousand obstacles to a proper analysis of what is going on; but so did Saddam. And yes, they probably did it; but so Saddam wanted everyone to believe – inside and outside his country – that he did have the potential for devastating, genocidal attacks.
One begins to notice. When “hope and change” bombs away a regime without proof, everything is fine. When Dubya does the same with an infinitely more dangerous opponent, he is the Cosmic Bastard.
Mr “Hope and Change” will bring on the wrongest possible change, and possibly put the Christian in Syria in a hopeless situation. The Western intervention will bomb, first of all, the hope of Christians in Syria for a peaceful life.
I can't avoid thinking the intervention spells the end of Assad's regime. I will not cry for the bastard. I will cry for Syria's Christians. Even bastards have their use.
And no, I do not condone the use of chemical weapon. If I were the POTUS, I would help Assad's regime so they are not in such dire straits as to use them. If it means being on the same side as Hizbollah, amen to that. You can't have Christians killed and forced to flee just because you don't like Iran. A strong Presidency would have dozens occasions to punish Iran without Syria's Christians being put in such an Islamist hell as the one that will reign – though the BBC won't tell you – after Assad's gone.
Yes, there are risks in this. There are risks in pretty much flippin' everything one does in the region. But heavens, if Western powers do not have an eye for the situation of those poor Christians in Syria, in Egypt, in Lybia, in Iraq who will care for them: the Islamists?
The recent news – largely expected, but shocking nevertheless – that perversion will soon be called “marriage” in a country obviously longing for damnation is occasion of some reflection as to how we could come to this.
However I turn it, it seems to me the usual suspects are not the most important players in Satan's chess game. Besides being rather obvious that perverts in the hands of the devil make his and their work, it must be noted that these are very probably less than 1% of the population. They alone would have never been more decisive than my cat in bringing about this abomination.
No, the culprits are among us, and in order to find them you only need to look around you on the bus, in the train, or at the farmers' market.
The nice old woman who always thought it beneath her to be hostile to “gays”; the teacher who has been blabbering about “tolerance” without having a clue of what tolerance really is; the law-abiding citizen who pays his taxes and cares more about the state of his garden than of his soul; the growing army of emasculated manginas, raised by frustrated single mothers desperately looking for you-know-what, but teaching their sons to eschew anything remotely resembling virility, and their daughters to hate the female role; the army of deluded people thinking they are “conservative” because they read the “Daily Telegraph”, but are unable to even notice what a den of faggotry that rag has become; in short, polite Little England with the tea and the scones, the tennis and the cricket: I blame them first and foremost for this, because if they had wanted to see – metaphorically speaking – the blood of Cameron and Miller on the pavement, the little whores of XXI-century British politics would have never thought of even starting this.
If this country has some balls left, Cameron and Miller will be (politically) massacred in the next very few years. Highly improbable, though, because if this had been the case the Camerons and Millers of the world would have noticed it, and would have refrained from jumping into the abyss for the sake of a couple of perverts.
In this life, Cameron and Miller will probably get away with this whilst Little England goes merrily on with its afternoon teas; but make no mistake, bar an always welcome repentance their punishment will be horrible in the life to come. Also, be under no illusion that millions of souls in this once great Contry are now at risk, and will discover in the next decades – as the big drip works its magic – what fools they have been. An entire country takes leave from basic Christianity, and very few seem to notice, let alone care.
More tea, Mrs Nice? Perhaps a dollop of eternal torment, too?
The “coalition for marriage” informs that the abominable law concerning so-called “same-sex” marriage has passed the last significant hurdle and will now most certainly complete its procedural run in the Lords before coming back to the Commons, where approval is as likely as the amen in the church.
As a good priest at the Brompton Oratory noticed, we have gone from joke to law in around ten years.
This news has gone unnoticed in a country whose main concern at the moment seem to be the Ashes, and that has managed to officially reintroduce heathenism as state religion without noticing, or caring.
Of course I blame the politicians like David Cameron and Maria Miller, prostituting themselves and damning their souls for the sake of short-term political advantage. But in a democracy, prostitution is nothing more than the politicians sucking up to the electorate, and neither Cameron nor Miller would have any interest in damning themselves unless an entire country were ready to at least tolerate it.
Sink, Britannia. Sink in a sea of perversion and indifference. You have willed this, and deserve the consequences.
And it came to pass the British Fag Government decided words mean what they would like them to, and brains can be switched off at leisure.
As a consequence, men can be called “wives” and women “husbands”.
One would say this is too stupid even for Maria Miller and David Cameron, but this is not the case.
Not only David Cameron and Maria Miller are so stupid, but so is a country that has decided not to think, in order that it might feel good with itself.
Satanical. Preposterous, but still satanical.
Lifesitenews.com informs us that half of all children in the born in the UK are being raised by one parent.
What apparently happens is not that half of the children are born of girls who have been stupid, but rather that an awful lot of couple who consider themselves “stable” do not marry and end up splitting when there are little children around, or divorce at the same time.
This reflects the utter madness of the modern British society. Divorce is not banned and hasn’t been for a long time now, so every kind of stigma is gone. The same -the British society being so “inclusive” – happens for those couple who don’t even think it a good idea to marry, such old and stuffy social conventions being too primitive for their own elevated selves. The community around them helps them in this behaviour by eliminating every trace of lack of “inclusiveness”. As a result, at the first major difficulty the couple will split, not caring at all that the children pay the highest price. Still, as the article also points out, the same adults will have their lives severely impacted, and this will have a further negative effect on the children.
One is reminded of those cruel times when divorce was banned, forced a man and a woman not only to really think thrice bout what they’re doing, but accustomed since little children to know that normally one has only one card to play, and should play it with the right partner and not nurture nrealistic expectation. In those cruel times, the social stigma linked to separation took care it was a measure generally avoided.
Not so today. After having accompanied and approved the complete demolition of the British family, the Government is now intent in absolutely perverting its very meaning, introducing institutionalised sodomy and sexual perversion and telling us this is good, because in some satanical way two perverts would be a family and you see, we need all the “families” we can get.
The emotional damage made to countless children is now even amplified. If it is traumatic to be raised without a father, imagine the fun at being raised by a couple of bitching faggots, or angry lesbians.
You would think the Country is slowing waking up to such an evident bankruptcy, but this is not the case. In fact, politicians like David Cameron and Maria Miller are merely the prostitutes of a degradation that comes straight from the voting masses, whose most perverted desires they try to satisfy as much as they can .
This is the way a once great Country is going down. The Empire Builders have left, leaving an army of faults who never grew up, trying to raise a generation of scarred children who never will.
From the San Francisco Chronicle:
In his remarks to Welby, Francis said he hoped they could collaborate in promoting the sacredness of life “and the stability of families founded on marriage.” He noted that Welby had recently spoken out on the issue, a reference to his House of Lords speech.
Significantly, though, Francis didn’t specify that marriage should be based on a union between a man and woman, which is how Benedict XVI and John Paul II routinely defined it in a way that made clear their opposition to same-sex marriage.
Vatican officials said Francis’ phrasing was a diplomatic attempt to make his point without making a provocative pronouncement, particularly during an inaugural meeting with Welby that was aimed at getting to know one another. Francis though has steered clear of the gay marriage debate as it has recently roiled France and Britain, and in general has refrained from making headline-grabbing public comments on hot-button current issues.
In these few phrases is condensed all the paucity and moral bankruptcy of this very chatty, approximate, shallow, half-socialist, scandalous, but oh so humble Papacy.
The Pope’s address to Mr Welby – not an off-the-cuff remark, but an official address to one who thinks he is the number one Religious of his country – mentions family and a marriage in a way which implies that families can be either founded on traditional marriage, or not; or alternatively, that marriage is either the Catholic one, or not. Of the two, the Pope deigns himself to prefer the Catholic one. Alleluja.
This obviously looks very much like a huge white flag concerning the issue of sodomitical so-called “marriage”; something the Pope should know it’s sexually perverted and logically inconceivable. Therefore, journalists start, once again, to knock at the door of various Vatican officials and ask – not for the first time -“did he really mean that”?
The tragic, but so credible answer is printed above: the Pope doesn’t like to say the Truth, because the Truth would be “provocative”. I thought that to say the Truth is charitable, and Truth said in charity saves souls. But again I’m not a Jesuit, so what do I know. I am so confused I even think one is accessory in the sin of the sodomites if he is silent on the issue, and anyone who thinks the Pope is not being silent because of the one or other very indirect remark made unrecognisable in order not to be “provocative” is insulting his intelligence.
Even more pathetic is the excuse found for this open capitulation: this was the first meeting with Welby, and the man is such a sensitive flower that his delicate constitution might not have survived the “provocation” of basic Christianity. An argument which also forgets Welby did speak against so-called “gay marriage”, albeit in the usual Anglican way, so we may conclude he would have, very probably, survived the shock.
More brutal still are the words of comment to the Pope’s inactivity in the matter: Pope Francis ” has steered clear of the gay marriage debate as it has recently roiled France and Britain, and in general has refrained from making headline-grabbing public comments on hot-button current issues”. Very truthful observation. The Pontiff has, though, generously made his wisdom about gossip & co. – let alone salvation for atheists – available to the man and the woman on the street; who are – unsurprisingly – very impressed.
Every Italian knows a novel I have often mentioned on this blog, and may end up mentioning in future – much as I dearly love this novel – more than I would like to. In the immortal I Promessi Sposi (“The Betrothed”, here or here, or here in the Original) one of the main characters is Don Abbondio, a timid, weak, and rather cowardly priest ready to betray his priestly duties in the most scandalous of ways when the price might be an awful lot of discomfort or – as he thinks being a weak man – his own life. This character (like the entire novel) has become so much ingrained in the Italian psyche, that un Don Abbondio is still today a favourite way among the better educated to indicate this kind of weak and accommodating priest, “not born with a lion’s heart” and ready to betray his vocation; a vocation for which he must be ready, as Don Abbondio is reminded at the opportune juncture, to die.
In the case of Don Abbondio, the two henchmen you see above threaten him in case he were to celebrate “a certain marriage” between two good people living in the village; a marriage which, as they make clear, “must not take place”. The parallel with today’s situation is striking, with “a certain marriage” (the perverted caricature of the real one) that “must take place”. The Pope, timorous to cause controversy and to be “provocative”, is happy to do what he can to accommodate the wishes of his two bravi, Satan’s henchmen Obama and Cameron.
If you want an even more striking example, look at the letter the Pontiff sent to the British Prime Minister David Cameron ahead of the G8. The Pope is here addressing a Prime Minister who, as he writes, is doing all he can to introduce so-called same-sex marriage, a measure now imminent. Still, his letter does not address the question with one word. In the same letter, though, the Pope accomplishes the unprecedented feat of giving abortion a “social justice” profile, as if for him every Christian principle were worthy of being followed because it’s social, not because it’s God’s law.
Don Abbondio has become Pope, and his thinking, speaking and acting have a striking resemblance with the original’s.
Allow me to finish this blog post with the following words (emphases mine):
“How’s our faith? Is it strong? Or is it sometimes a bit superficial? (all’acqua di rose – “like rose water”, meaning banal, an insufficient substitute, shallow, inadequate)” When difficulties come, “are we courageous like Peter or a little lukewarm?” Peter – he pointed out– didn’t stay silent about the Faith, he din’t descend to compromises, because “the Faith isn’t negotiable.” “There has been, throughout history of the people, this temptation: to chop a piece off the Faith”, the temptation to be a bit “like everyone else does”, the temptation “not to be so very rigid”. “But when we start to cut down the Faith, to negotiate Faith, a little like selling it to the highest bidder”
You know who this is, right?
St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle.
The first “gay Prime Minister” has been increasingly under attack during the weekend concerning his and his wife's favourite perversion. I have written about it several times in the past, and I think it is fair to say the roots are mightily angry and many MPs are suitably scared, but still no decisive action is taken.
It is as if many would think what no one dares to say: what has this idiot made of us. Unfortunately, he could make of them a party of undecisive whinos because they are a party of undecisive whinos, torn between a looming revolt among the voters and their inner prostitute suggesting they do not go against the fashion of the day.
Do it, faggots. Grow some balls, and get rid of him. Margaret Thatcher would laugh at your whining attitude, and tell you very clearly how wet you are.
Get rid of him, or you might well discover the Country wakes up, and gets rid of you.
This is one of those days when the nicest thing one wishes to the Tory party is a painful death. I mean, I wish them death every day, but some days I wish them a painful and shameful death.
The Prime Minister has been forced to another humiliating U-turn about Europe, only hours after two Tory heavyweights (Gove and Hammond, the first a possible successor) have stated on TV they would vote “out” to an in or out referendum about he EU, almost in the same hours in which the chameleon was extolling the great advantages for the Kingdom in staying in.
One follows the events, and gets mightily angry. Cameron can be slapped on both cheeks by his lieutenants week in and week out on Europe, but nowhere is the same level of hostility towards him to be seen in the infinitely more important matter of sexual perversion.
You want proof? Many Tory MPs have complained out loud concerning the new so-called “same sax marriage” legislation, but Cameron hasn't deemed it necessary to modify one word of the legislative proposal. Contrast this with Europe, when it is clear by now even to Ed Milliband Cameron is expected to march with his own backbenchers, or call the removal company sharp-ish.
Cameron understands all this. He clearly sees the opposition to sexual perversion does not threaten his position, but has noticed by now whenever there is ferment about Europe his backside is very fast on the line, and very much at risk of a very painful same sex treatment.
The Tories have – even those who bark a bit for the sake of their constituency – largely betrayed this country. They have chosen to prostitute themselves to the inclusive mantras of the time, instead of doing what they are supposed to do first and foremost: fight for the conservation of what is good for the country. They have become a party of stupid champagne faggots and amateur progressives, thinking they can be a Janus party, with either face to be shown according to local convenience.
It is improbable they can win outright in 2015, and not very likely they will manage to keep the coalition in place; but personally, I wish them to lose bad and be supplanted by he UKIP as the (very imperfect) standard bearer of conservatism. The UKIP might one not too distant day go entirely the way of Cameron, but at least the demise of the Tories would put an end to the political aspirations of countless little prostitutes able to sell Christianity to the best offerer.
What a stupid party they have become. Friends of perverts who don't vote for them, and always with the nose in the air to see where the wind blows. Stupid, stupid party.
How I hope it might die.