The bedwetters are at it again. You know who they are. They are the ones who still believe in the sanctity of human life and will never understand what Brexit was for. It has taken the pandemic to truly expose them for the weak willed, lily livered, fifth columnists they are. Snowflakes and melts. This is not how Global Britain becomes great.
How Global Britain does become great is plain as the nose on your face. Just look in the mirror. You’ll find it right there. Do you see someone fretting over having to cancel Christmas to keep the wet lettuce brigade happy? I doubt it. You can probably hear the lapping of waves and the call of gulls in some warm tropical place. This where all true British patriots are already. Out of dodge.
It will be an easy step to take, as you ponder the crystal blue sea stretched out to a seemingly infinite horizon, to keep your faith in the leadershit of Britain’s best current, serving Prime Minister. Boris Johnson does not have to save your Christmas. You have exercised personal responsibility and saved it for yourself already by flying first class as far away from Blighty as you possibly can.
So you now have faith to spare and your countryfolk need it. Dish it out to them. All around them people are dropping with Omicron like flies. They may not have the mettle to cope, to keep their eyes on the horizon that is tomorrow. It’s always a lovely day tomorrow if you believe in Boris. Forget about today.
Raise your flattened palm high and salute the little, silver fish darting about in the shallows beyond your feet. As you do it say the following with pride, “Now is not the time to lose faith in the PM’s ability to save his Christmas”. He can still do it. He can eat and drink from dawn to dusk on the 25th December. He deserves it. He’ll have to return to work sometime in January.
Keep the faith. Boris will look after himself. Do not fear. And don’t forget to stock up on duty free when you eventually decide to return home after your holiday.
