Debate You, Debate Me

Debate You, Debate Me ©

By Michael Casey

I’m not going to talk to you, I just cannot abide you, you are such a liar, ok you are economical with the truth, everybody knows that. MY figures are perfect, I never exaggerate, what I say is Gospel, though I am an Atheist, how can I believe in something  that is not there, that would be like believing in YOU.

I’d just punch you if I had to share the stage with you, you are your shiny suit and your just perfect tie that your wife or mother or boyfriend chose for you. So you’d look perfect on the debate. So I will just make a statement to Andrew Marr and smile nicely, I think he supports me secretly, I am such a kind man after all.

Then it’ll be your turn to with Andrew Marr, and don’t try bribing him with a 40 year old malt whisky, you are such a low life, anything is possible, you have such a lust for power. Nodding your head and agreeing with him, touching his knee as if HE was Terry Wogan, you are such a little S*&^, you’d do anything to get that little bit of edge.

I won’t even watch your 90 minutes with Andrew Marr, I have better things to do, much more important things to do. I’ll be tidying out my attic and re-grouting the bathroom. Far more important than listening to your bare-face lies.

Why did they decide to give you equal time with me? I am the sitting PM, it’s just not cricket to let an upstart like you try to talk the pants off the country. Everybody knows your just as slimy as that guy in Bridget Jones, the one who gets punched by what’s his name who got the Oscar for whatever it was.

So the vote was last night, and I’m still the PM. Post Mortem supervisor at Birmingham Medical school, I’m in charge of all the stiffs.