Who are the same old right-wing Tories f**king everything up again?

WHO are the same few right-wing lunatics once again threatening to bring down the government over bullshit? We wearily re-introduce them: 

Mark Francois, member for Rayleigh and Wickford

Christ, him? The guy from Brexit whose red-faced tantrums brought Northern Ireland a sea border? Whose picture appears on the Wikipedia page for ‘gammon’? Why is it always men with French surnames like him and Farage? Why are they sublimating their self-loathing into wild xenophobia?

Jonathan Gullis, member for Stoke-on-Trent North

There’s no avoiding this prick. Privately educated, a former teacher who revelled in the loathing of his pupils, he plunged himself into the filthy waters of Stoke-on-Trent and emerged as born-again scum. Utterly convinced that by being his worst self at all times he is representing his constituents because he could not despise them more.

Lee Anderson, member for Ashfield and GB News

A former Labour supporter and backer of Michael Foot – for younger readers think Jeremy Corbyn, but exactly the same – hugely overcompensating for having once believed the poor existed to do anything but suffer. Would like to live in a copy of the Sun from 1982.

Liz Truss, member for South West Norfolk

Keeping a low profile because of her well-earned reputation as the kiss of death, but the Rwanda plan is unworkable bullshit that will cost Britain millions, make us an international pariah and tank Tory poll ratings. How could she not back it? It’s everything she loves.

Andrea Jenkyns, member for Morley and Outwood

Unable to spell her own surname, Jenkyns is best known for being a rabid backer of Boris Johnson who still wants him back. She was willing to break up the UK to get him in, so there is no bottom to the depths she’ll sink to in order to facilitate his return. If the world was destroyed to place him on his throne, she’d be happy.

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Summer of '69, and six other sexy songs by unf**kable artists

BRYAN Adams has claimed Summer of ‘69 is about mutual oral sex, ruining it forever for everybody. These artists should know better than to make us picture their O-face: 

I’m Too Sexy, Right Said Fred, 1991

A song not so much tongue-in-cheek as a deeply-held belief for pissed blokes in shit nightclubs for more than 30 years, unless you’re a Morph fetishist you’re unlikely to want to get it on with the bald Fairbrass brothers and their anti-vaccination beliefs. Either one at a time or both at once.

Summer of ’69, Bryan Adams, 1985

More enjoyable before you were forced to imagine the granite-faced rocker spreadeagled beneath a lucky partner, slobbering like a labrador with a chew toy. And (Everything I Do) I Do It for You was number one for four f**king months. There’s no way you’re noshing Bryan off if you lived through that.

Touch Me (I Want Your Body), Samantha Fox, 1986

There is much to explain about Sam. She was a famous topless model in national newspapers when she was 16, for one. But, frankly, did you fancy her that much even when it was considered okay to? Sun readers did, because big tits were the limit of their imagination, but they’re retroactively paedophiles honour-bound to string themselves up.

Sex With Me, Rihanna, 2016

‘Sex with me, so amazing,’ sings Rihanna, and yes, very likely. But intimidating. Because which of us could really, in all confidence, sing the same? And when imagining yourself in bed with her, can you honestly see yourself measuring up? Or before the end of this 3m 26s song would you be backing out of the bedroom apologising?

Tonight (We Need a Lover), Mötley Crüe, 1985

One of many emotionally and mentally stunted Crüe songs about sex. The problem is not so much that the Crüe are unattractive, it’s that they’re such massive, massive wankers. And with tracks like Girls, Girls, Girls and She Goes Down, it feels like they’re overcompensating. That would certainly explain Too Fast For Love.

Let’s Talk About Sex, Salt-N-Pepa, 1991

Imagine the f**king earache involved. First they waste a verse talking about talking about sex, then they’re lining up a big old chat that’s likely to focus on inadequacies rather than unqualified praise. It seems an unspontaneous affair, since their earlier single advised you to ‘push it real good’ which smacks of micromanaging the situation.

Black Sweat, Prince, 2006

Perhaps the last truly great Prince song and sexy as hell, but there were always issues with him. Height issues. High-heel issues. Issues of rampant, wild promiscuity while being absolutely dedicated to the Lord. What, in the bedroom, would you actually get? Of all his many lovers, who’s actually talked about it positively afterwards? Not a single one.