‘Every dog has his day.’
I can’t help but notice that the EU Referendum fallout and the subsequent Tory leadership battle seems to be, well, Reservoir Dogs. Referendum Dogs, if you will. The plot is as follows.
A group have orchestrated a heist on Britain. Call it a ‘referendum’ if you like, but they seem to have taken the value of our currency, our stability, our government, our national sanity, the EU, probably Scotland, and possibly Northern Ireland, so I’m calling it a heist.
The heist has been carried out by six people, acting under aliases: Mr Blue-Blood-Tory (aka David Cameron), Mr Brown-Shirt (aka Nigel Farage), Mr Pink-and-Smarmy (aka George Osborne), Mr Whiteish-Hair (aka Boris Johnson), Mr Orange-You-Sick-of-Seeing-His-Face (aka Michael Gove), and Miss Blonde (aka Theresa May). It appears the whole thing was orchestrated by mob, sorry newspaper, boss Rupert Murdoch.
The heist has gone a little awry. There has been substantial blood lost, everyone is blaming each other, and it is doubtful anyone is coming out alive.
Mr Brown-Shirt met his end immediately, becoming utterly irrelevant the second the heist began.
Mr Blue-Blood played his part in setting up the heist, but has been missing, presumed dead ever since.
Mr Whitish-Hair may have had his suspicions that the whole thing was a stupid idea from the start, but he had his own ambitions to achieve here.
Mr Whitish-Hair and Mr Orange-Etc appear be helping each other. Mr Whitish-Hair trusts Mr Orange-Etc, defending him when the others accuse Mr Orange-Etc of being an undercover leadership candidate who set them all up. Mr Whiteish-Hair is subsequently devastated when Mr Orange-Etc eventually confesses that he is indeed a leadership candidate. In the aftermath of the ensuing leadership Mexican standoff, it appears likely that the Prime ministerial ambitions of both Mr Whiteish-Hair and Mr Orange-Etc are dead.
Meanwhile, Miss Blonde doesn’t exactly seem to playing the same game as everyone else, and many suspect that she likes to torture people.
Whilst Mr Pink-and-Smarmy has quietly snuck out and vanished, and one rather fears that he was the one in possession of the money.
Come on, everyone, sing with me: ‘Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right…’
Now, own up: whose bright idea was it to let Quentin Tarantino start directing the United Kingdom??
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