Francisco Garcia's Westminster Whispers

Westminster is a mmmmmurky place. Crammed with secrets, witness to centuries of shady deals and unsavoury compromise. Ideals are crushed. Lofty purpose is consumed by cruel necessity. Our fine journalists have been corrupted into a simpering hackocracy. Truth and honour are all too rare. Yet occasionally there emerges from the squalor someone ready to pour the thick bleach of truth down the damp crevices and blocked pipes where the powerful squat. And the results can be as explosive as you might predict.

Carrying the cans for what you believe in. Tooting the long pipe of peace. Rolling with the rough and the smooth. Refusing to take jive from the disrespectful m*rons at HQ…

Yeah, the more I ponder the more I realise… politics is basically the sesh… and my brudda JC is the human with the aux cable and a fresh pouch of baccy! aha

There'll be some sore heads in Downing Street this week after a legendary expression of will by the Great British public. Ouch! So Mrs May finally decided to come down to Democracy Street and dance. How exquisitely foolish.

I want to talk to you directly now Theresa… this DUP cr*p isn't cutting the mustard. Do you have a single idea how many vloggers I count as dear friends? Vloggers who would find – I imagine – nothing more succulent than unsheathing their Androids and unbuckling their iPad straps in pursuit of one goal… letting everyone know what an utter berk you are in the most epic terms imaginable.

You have 45 minutes to reconsider this lunacy… then the merkage starts. Think about it. Tick tock…

Kooky I know… but every time I see Davey Cameron, all I can think about is a great big steaming meat pie

aha… but seriously. How the hell does that man have the gall to show his face in this town ("this town", in this particular instance, being British public life) after the Tweetosphere happy-slapping he received at the hands that maud brudda Jez? Brexit this, Brexit that… newsflash, NO ONE cares what you think bro. You think Mrs May should "listen to other parties"? Maybe listen to some advice from someone who ACTUALLY loves to party my donny… bun on a proper zoot, get a bit high… and chillax to a few classic anthems!

Do mine eyes deceive me… has the wizarding community taken leave of its senses? I must be dreaming. What the HELL did I wake up to this morning? I couldn't give a tinpot CHUFF if you support Comrade Corbyn, or wish you were living in Mr Smith's frothy coffee paradise. There's more to life than this crazy game we so love to hate. That is to say… the game of politics. So to see certain more disrespectful elements of the young conjurtariat pointing their poisoned wands at JK, well… listen very closely to what I'm about to say…. If you EVER take another pop at Miss Rowling, mark my words – I'll be sending a few unforgivable curses your way… and I ain't talking swear words.

Tim Farron? Not likely… the prat is so far off it's amazing he's got matching socks on. They say never kick a man when he's down… well it's a lucky break for me that this boob has his head so far up in the clouds he won't notice my boot up his ar*e. You absurd little man. Enough about the bloke by the Pearly Gates… what about the blokes down the Purely Yates. Don't even bother, the verdict is in… simply no respect.

X