The ‘Woke’ are busy little people these days. If they’re not tie dying their handwoven shirts with anti-police slogans they are attacking a man worth more than their little fingers. Shirts handwoven from hemp it must be noted. The scourge of civilisation. Smokeable shirts are garments no self-respecting patriot would wear, even in the privacy of their own lodge.
Clearly the man referred to above is none other than the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom Boris Johnson. The titan who freed the empire from the stranglehold of Brussels. The colossus who hired and fired Dominic Cummings – no greater evaluation of his Solomon like judgement need be identified. The prodigious sire of uncounted offspring. It is easy to see how their envious eyes settled on him.
We see all too clearly with the legions of the wokeness what an upbringing without nanny, sans Eton, bereft of a comfortable and deserved annuity does to the human mind. It makes it feral. Fieldwork would tame them, but they have so infested the MSM that no one dare call for the obvious remedy for fear of pile-ons.
What now for our brave Prime Minister? How will he defend himself from the scoundrels who dare report his words accurately in public?
There is only one defence needed. Boris Johnson must immediately invoke the Magna Carta. He must print its clauses out on A4 paper and stick them to the windows of 10 Downing Street. Once he has armed himself with this impenetrable shield no long haired hippy will dare reproach him.
To the barricades Mr Johnson! Brandish your print out of the Magna Carta over the piles of bodies. Flatten your palm and lower it over your eyes to shield them from the sun. Now look! Look yonger! Beyond the pile of bodies you will see the woke as they slink back to their unclean lairs. Your printed, ancient law burned into their terrified eyes.
