David Davis Keeping Sexy Photo Of Nick Clegg In His Underpants

FORMER Tory leadership contender David Davis has a photo of Nick Clegg’s head on Peter Andre’s body, which he keeps stuffed down the front of his underpants, it emerged last night.

Mr Davis, who resigned from the shadow cabinet a couple of years ago over something or other, was heard last week describing prime minister David Cameron and his Lib Dem coalition partner as a ‘pair of cowboy poofters bumming each other in a tent’.

But friends of the MP said the remarks were just the latest sign of Mr Davis ‘acting out’ his jealousy and frustration at not being able to be near Mr Clegg and kiss him on the mouth.

A source said: “Just so’s we’re all clear, this isn’t a political analogy in any way. David Davis desires Nick Clegg and wants to have sexual intercourse with him.

“A lot of people assumed there was something going on between David and Shami Chakrabati from Liberty. But he really just needed someone to talk to about Clegg and Shami’s a great listener.

“She actually advised him to resign in the hope that Clegg would be so filled with admiration for his liberal principles that the two of them would end up going out for dinner and that would be the start of it. Again, not an analogy, he really wants to fuck him.”

The source added: “David is quite turned on by the idea of them doing it in a tent up a hill, but ideally he’d prefer the sex to happen in a nice big bed at the Dorchester.”

Tory backbencher, Julian Cook, said: “I walked into his office a couple of weeks ago to find him with his trousers and pants round his ankles, masturbating furiously to a video of the first prime ministerial debate.

“Apparently he’s watched it so much he’s had to order a new copy.

“But the strange thing was, when I walked in, he didn’t stop. He just raised his left hand as if to say ‘give me a minute’ before bringing himself to a shuddering climax while shouting ‘I agree with Nick! I agree with Nick!’.

“He then pulled up his trousers and asked me how I was.”

 

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One Woman's Week: Save Us From Ugly French Women

By Karen Fenessey

I CAN almost see where the French are coming from: being forced to dress a certain way is wrong. But I fear perhaps they’re unable to see the wood for the trees on this issue. Shouldn’t the question be: do we really need to see their faces?

Lots of people make the mistake of going all Arabian Nights over full face veils. But let’s get real here: you’re not going to find any Konnie Huqs under those bad boys. Those veils are there for a reason: namely, French women are constantly burly and furious and it’s a real downer for tourism. And – dare I say it – there may even be some evidence to suggest the veil should be enforced in some cases. Just spend a couple of weeks in France and you’ll soon get a feel for the continentals. Let me tell you, urging them to go out without their veils will just mean they have to shave more often. Not only will this take valuable time away from the significant contribution veiled women make to the French economy via online poker, but will also interfere with prayer mat routines and cooking along with Nigella.

I see enough miserable losers on my holidays to Marseilles without this added inconvenience. Muslims are renowned for their appalling sense of humour – just look at Omid Jalili. Accordingly, I have come up with a marvellous solution which will make everyone happy. I was inspired upon watching the London marathon when five runners had made masks using cardboard cut-outs of Take That’s faces with holes for the eyes. This hilarious idea just about made me wet myself with laughter and helped me to realise that marathon runners are actually very intelligent. French women could really learn something from them. Of course, I’m not saying it would need to be Take That all the time – maybe just once or twice a month. The rest of the time they’d be free to have any celeb they chose – even Bin Laden or Omid Jalili. This would serve the dual purpose of brightening everyone’s day and allowing them to continue oppressing themselves in their most favourite of ways.

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The aftermath left by the whole Raoul Moat saga is indeed worrisome. But I think everyone’s missing the most disturbing point of all: A woman apparently being of sound enough mind to get herself pregnant to the same man twice in a row named her children ‘Raoul’ and ‘Angus’. Broken Britain indeed.

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Poor Cheryl Cole has proved herself yet again by going all native. But her carelessness seems to have bitten her on the bum this time. I know it’s been tough since Ashley, but any responsible person who thinks they might be taking a holiday where sharing needles and lots of anonymous partners are on the cards should always get the jab before they set off.