Anyway, I nearly spat out my genetically modified cornflakes, as I read Teflon Tony is thinking about another comeback. He has had more incarnations than the iphone. Unfortunately, unlike the iphone, he is only unidirectional. He speaks but never listens.

I’m guessing since he heard how much his pals Killary and Bill (sounds like the title of a new Tarantino sequel) have creamed off over the years, somewhere in the order of 90 million pounds ( 110 mil dollars) he felt he and his mon Cherie were being left behind, with a mere 50 million quid. So, in the spirit of 1990’s optimism, the “People’s Prime Minister” feels there is plenty more filthy lucre in the world to be trousered and since his pockets are not bulging to bursting point yet – or at least that’s what his Mon Cherie tells him at bedtime each day – he must crack on, or is it crack one off, whichever.

So just like a perennial weed, no amount of Round-Up can get rid of, he re-appears to spread his roots deep and wide, infesting the British countryside, well, in fact any country’s side, back or front, wherever a pound, yen, dollar, euro, swiss franc, ruble, shekel, dinari, won or yuan can be made.

Fresh from having stuck the boot up poor old Corbyn’s jacksee at every opportunity, with the help of a certain PR firm, he now seeks to defecate on pastures new. Planning coup after coup, like an El Presidente dictator of a banana republic.

Since, he survived Chilcot, his armoured coating slightly scratched but not dented, he is free to crusade. This time it’s against Brexit.

Watching his beloved European Union gravy boat get holed – but not sunk – by the HMS Brexit was a painful, as opposed to, gainful experience for him. Yet undeterred, good ol’ Cap’ain Ton is now hoping to scupper the good ship Brexit like a Somali pirate, to plunder and pilage it and relaunch the E.U battleship Bismarck complete with a crew of old sea dog remoaners.

Using the same PR firm, for the JC (Jeremy not Jesus, even Tony wouldn’t try that) shoeing, to manage the new campaign, plus his merry crew of bandits, including Long Dicky Silver Beardy Branson (a real modern day Judas Iscariot) and his chest full of pieces of silver…well OK….a measly 25 grand…and Nick One Leggy Cleggy, Tim Far- rong and other swashfuckling remoaners, they have been plotting a mutiny for months. Every bit of effort has been put into this mutiny using the collective cunning of a fox chased down it’s hole by Tory toffs on a weekend hunt.

So, don’t be surprised if we hear old friends, like Alastair Scumball and Peter the Prince of Darkness, spinning furiously in the background. A cast of hundreds will be feverishly beavering away in the MSM ( More of the Same Misinformation) to support this cause backed by the rich and (in)famous, like Bob – give us yer fookin’ mooney – Geldof, adding his mouthiness to the cause but needless to say not his money. I wouldn’t be surprised if they register the new campaign as a charity at the UK taxpayers expense AND domicile it in Luxembourg, probably getting a tax rebate from the EU in the process.

Maybe, Wikileaks will be able to spill the beans and come to the rescue, before they drone Julian or he gets shipped off to Guantanamo via Stockholm on a one way ticket, never to be seen again.

Finally, we can hope the Dutch, French and German people see sense and join the good ship Brexit in 2017. Where is a U-boat when you need one to sink this motley crew, the Brussels mobsters and their Fuhrer Frau Fuckface, once and for all?

Nominated by: Mike Oxhard