KEIR Starmer claims to love the flag. Nonsense. He may take it home but there as yet exists no evidence that he then accompanies it to bed.
Indeed, it’s hard to believe this pasty, passionless man even watches a horror film with the the flag, drawing closer to it on the sofa during jump scares before beginning to caress it caringly and then more forcefully.
Certainly no true Briton – ie voting Conservative or further right – can give credence to the idea that Starmer engages in passionate foreplay with the banner of our nation, stimulating its erogenous zones expertly yet with a teasing touch.
And progressing to oral? Drawing the folds of the flag aside and going at its secret core with his ham-pink tongue, driving it into frenzied ecstasy before demanding it do the same for him? Literally nobody pictures it while waiting for the bus.
So it logically follows that full penetrative intercourse, Starmer on top and the Union Jack taking it, his pallid buttocks rising and falling as he thrusts into the very heart of Britishness, is inconceivable. Ask anyone. It has never come to mind.
We must conclude, therefore, that our prime minister is lying. That while he says ‘we will never surrender our flag’ he has no right to claim it, for he has not consummated the relationship.
He has only one option. He must be filmed seducing the flag, undressing the flag, and banging the flag. We must see it going in and evidence that he finished.
If Starmer does not release such a video within the next seven days, then he officially does not love the Union Jack, hates Britain, and cedes full control of it to a man who adores it, treats it like a princess and regularly gives it a proper seeing-to, like Tommy Robinson.
Go on, Sir Keir. Bang the flag on camera. Your premiership will be secure after that.
