JEREMY CORBYN’S BLOG
I wonder if the “so-called” Tory Prime Minister, or the “so-called” Tory Chancellor of The Exchequer have any idea how much a pint of baked beans is these days? Cameron and Osborne and their type live in a bubble (not a rundown, decaying working class bubble with a leaking roof - but a well-heeled, comfortable bubble, with it’s own parking space and three kitchens) - and have little or no compassion for the man (or woman) in the street.
This heartless, compassionless Tory government are ignorant of the fact that we now have a staggering 1,875,000 food banks, compared to zero under Tony Benn’s 1977 administration which never existed. On top of that, not one of them stocks organic Quinoa, which is shocking when you consider we’re the fifth richest nation in the World. In my experience Tory foodbanks are usually full of Fascist food products such as Crispy Pancakes, pork pies and privatised Arctic Roll. If we in the re-shaped, re-modelled Labour Party (not New Labour you must understand) had our way, food banks would be re-nationalised and powered by wind farms constructed from re-cycled wind farms.
If I’ll be remembered for anything as the Labour leader it’s my PMQs revolution. I’ve managed to rid Parliament of it’s elitist, old-school tie, Etonian Mafia style of Prime Minister’s questions, by introducing my ‘inquisition by email’. The other day, I read out an embittered email from “The Californian Penile Enhancement Corporation” in which they asked “How big do you want to be? Big or HUGE?”, which appeared to stop Cameron and the massed Tory ranks dead in their tracks.
There are certain things in life which sicken me, one of them being our “so-called” leader David Cameron conspiring with horrendous regimes such as Saudi Arabia, selling them arms and condoning what some would describe as state-sponsored terrorism. I know I’m not alone when I condemn these actions. Why, only the other day Gerry Adams, Martin McGuinness and myself spoke of our disgust at the PM, over a Wetherspoon’s vegetarian sharer plate. Gerry, Martin and myself go back a long way, to the time when I used to help them organise raffles in the local Irish Club. Great days.