The dullard, out-of-touch communists from the BBC have saved my boss and most of my colleagues from an ass-whooping to end all whoopings today. But not for long, I suspect. There is something boiling in us all, just under the surface, and nobody will be able to hold us back much longer.
I was ready to go in tomorrow and unleash some country gumption on the snotty bastards back at the company where I work, in order to get a promotion. Now I can’t for lack of precedent.
I wish the BBC didn’t fire Clarkson. More, I wish there was widespread workplace violence across the board. A new dawn in labour dynamics. A new HR ethic, fit for the 21st Century.
Boss tell you what to do like she own the place? Spit in her eye and rip out her hair. Co-worker refuse to do your work for you while you snooze on the sofa? A kick in the balls and an elbow in the teeth.
A real revolution. While at it, bring back slavery too. Make all immigrants work for free and let us beat them with whips and chains over their naked backs. Why should we be ashamed of what we really feel? Of calling a spade a spade? A slope a slope. No more. Put Clarkson’s face on the fiver. Clarkson for King.
Fuck everybody, abolish Parliament, abolish Brenda, abolish grammar, and let Tall Curly Man from car TV show run the country on the basis of the Old Testament and online petitions. Triumph of the human spirit. Until an online petition crops up to abolish Curly and the Old Testament and replace both with Vladimir Putin and Skrewdriver’s debut album. Unrestrained liberty and the pursuit of violence. Wild, guilt-free, gory happiness and subsidised alcohol during daylight hours. For children, too.
Yes. Bring back Clarkson. Put the bully on a pedestal carved out of gold and let us all emulate him. Finally life and everything can be just about You, and Me, and nobody else. Like it should be. Like it really is. No more pretence of civilisation. No more tedium. Natural law. Jungle. Adrenaline.
I will be in Trafalgar Square tomorrow to enact this D-Day, to finally overthrow the liberal elite that has been choking Britain for centuries and I expect my 1,033,000 (and growing) fellow revolutionaries who signed the petition to bring back Clarkson to join me on my crusade. First order of business, ransacking the BBC offices. They are practically worthless now anyway after the only professional who ever worked there has been dismissed.
You will be able to easily recognise me: I will be topless and greased up with goose lard, fired up on cocaine, punching and kicking a punching bag that will have the words “human dignity” written across it in block capitals.
As a warm-up.