Vince Cable fans looking like a right bunch of twats

THE millions of people who said Vince Cable was exactly the sort of politician this country needs were last night looking like a bunch of grade-A twats.

Across Britain, smart-arses who spent all of 2009 telling everyone they knew to pay attention to Mr Cable, were overcome by wave after wave of cold nausea as the wise old Lib Dem MP gifted the British television industry to Rupert Murdoch.

Martin Bishop, a first time Lib Dem voter from Stevenage, said: “I admit that my admiration for him was based almost entirely on the Mr Bean gag. Hello, my name is Martin and I am a twat.”

Helen Archer, from Peterborough, added: “I am currently going back over his old statements about the credit crunch to see if I can find anything that wasn’t actually obvious. As things stand I do seem to be veering towards unbridled twattishness.”

But Julian Cook, from Hatfield, said: “I am in the luxurious position of always thinking he was a bullshitter, mainly because I read more than one newspaper article per week and the back of my head does not feature a row of shiny buttons.

“I am going to have the absolute time of my life today, finding the guilty twats and rubbing their smug, idiotic noses right in the middle of this.

“And when every other programme on British television is a fundamentalist Christian reality game show presented by Kay Burley and Ross Kemp, I am going to phone them up and shout ‘this is all your fault’ at them until they cry.”

But as Mr Cable’s underlying cretinosity was joyfully exposed, millions insisted they had never heard of him and even if they had they would certainly never have described him as the ‘sage of Twickenham’ at a succession of dinner parties where everyone agreed with them enthusiastically.

Cook added: “I suppose it’s a bit like St Peter denying Jesus three times before the cock crowed. Except of course that Jesus was Jesus and Vince Cable is just some daft old bugger with a column in the Mail on Sunday – which, by the way, should have been a huge fucking clue.

“Still, he will love being compared to Jesus.”


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Mother forced to choose favourite child to join her on Eurostar

BRUTAL Eurostar commandants last night forced a mother-of-two to make an agonising choice between her offspring.

After a 943-hour wait at London’s St Pancras station, Nikki Hollis was pulled aside and told by two stern-faced men in uniforms that there was only one adult and one child seat left on the train she had hoped would take herself and both her children to the safety of France.

Hollis said: “I screamed at them ‘No, I won’t choose, I won’t!’ while ineffectually pounding the taller man’s chest with my fists.

“He grabbed my wrists and said, ‘If you don’t choose, I’ll take them both’. I knew from the darkness in his eyes that he meant it.”

She added: “I decided to take my eight year-old daughter, Eva, as my son Jan is a year older and has become annoying.

“I gave him my credit card and told him to go to the nearest Hotel Ibis and ask for their cheapest available room, then stay there until I can send help.

“If it’s the last time I see him I shall definitely be writing a letter of complaint at some point.”

St Pancras remains teeming with thousands of desperate refugees hoping to escape before England is forever crushed under the boot of Nazi snow.

Would-be traveller, Tom Logan, said: “I’ve been trading cigarettes, mainly for other cigarettes, but I am hoping to barter my last remaining iTunes credits for a pain au chocolat.”

He added: “They say that in France a man can live free. Plus they have gritters and stuff.”