“Tory from the Irish word ‘toiraidh’ means ‘men on the run’. No one is entirely sure anymore what from, as Tory Britain has sensibly erased its memory of Irish history.” – Hackcourt Smyth-Fillbottom-Tryst, Camden-upon-Kensington, January 31st 2019.
Foreign types have long envied the international value placed on an Englishman’s word. Indeed, it is known to be his bond, just ask the Irish, Scots, Welsh, Cornish, Indigenous Americans, Russian bankers, Mistresses of the Prime Minister, Jeremy Corbyn or any other happy peoples favoured by fate to have received its balm like reassurance.
Unhappily these days the trenchfooted, cardboard boot wearing warriors of the armies of the “woke” are attempting to attach rather less palatable meanings to the proud and proper noun. We will not stand for this, we will sit down.
No less an honourable figure than the Prime Minister Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson is now the focus for the unsavoury smear campaigns of the anarcho-communist syndicate.
But what about peace in Ireland? They cry. Well, what about it?
I refer you to Mr de Pfeffel Johnson’s own words when he advised Northern Irish businessmen (it is unclear at the time of publication if there are any Northern Irish businesswomen) to send any customs forms arising from Getting Brexit Done to him, so he could bin them.
As the famous Venetian Blind manufacturer Giseppie Cororalli wrote in his forward to his translation of the Merchant of Venice in 1496, “What problem is there if you can just forget about it and carry on drinking?”
Has any handwringing, so called entrepreneur yet bothered to ship the Prime Minister their forms?
It is thus his fault that no one can be bothered to go to a postal office kiosk, most likely now situated in the upstairs cupboard of a WH Smith, and send the forms to the PM?
We all know the address!
But just in case you have acquaintances that are slow to remember, or pedestrian on the uptake, the address is 10 Downing Street, London. There maybe more to the address, but I assure you the swarthy foot soldiers of the Royal Mail will see your missives well directed.
This all proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Prime Minister’s word is still his bond. Thus, any Englishman’s word is still his bond. All you have to do is put him to the test! Which I advise most strongly against.