For the love of anything that resembles decency, will you stop this obscenity, you abominable creatures?
You are so hideous, so repugnant, so utterly shameless.
You truly are loathsome, detestable excuses for humanity.
How long is this going to go on for, eight, nine, nineteen? I honestly don't know how you can step out of your front door? How do you look people in the eye, how do you live with yourselves, you're beyond my comprehension?
What a thing to wake up to, what a way to start a day, and I don't think I dare go in search of what the Mail is going to fawn upon us.
This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands,--
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.
This England! It's not mine anymore, I do not recognise it.
It shames me.
Well if We have nothing else to thank Cameron for, we can thank him for keeping this vile pair off the front page of the Mail. For now.
But I did find this there. This England! You just could not make it up.
Motorist returns to find yellow lines painted either side of her car - and a parking ticket