OF all the low points this year, this has to be the lowest. Launching housing policies explicitly targeted at scum claiming benefits.
The worst of the worst, the bottom-feeding filth who are barely functioning economic units, the ones we’d ship to Rwanda if they weren’t inconveniently white. They’re my new electoral demographic.
‘There’s loads of these worthless f**ks in the Red Wall,’ Dowden tells me. ’They voted for Brexit. They voted for you. Now they’re wondering why everything’s gone to shit.
‘So we’ve come up with this. It won’t work. Inflation’s ten per cent, none of them will be able to save even close enough for a deposit and there aren’t any houses anyway. But it’s Thatcherite.’
All of which explains why I’m in Blackpool, the nation’s prolapsed arsehole, wearing the old hard hat and telling an audience of absolute dregs that they are my government’s priority.
These people can’t even earn a f**king wage. Their cretinous choices of career, partner and place of birth, and subsequent deprivation, are their own fault. And they’re my last hope.
I should be standing behind that podium giving an incendiary speech about wiping these lowlifes out. Withdrawing every benefit. Taking their homes and children. Locking them up in prison ships and letting them drift out into the Atlantic. Good Tory stuff.
Instead I’m out here pandering to the vermin I normally only see getting bailiff visits on Channel 5. Surely this is rock bottom. I can’t sink lower. Until next week.