Thursday, 8 July 2010

Will no one rid us of this vainglorious Squeaker?

Squeaker Bercow would make an excellent primary school teacher; "No running with scissors, now, Quentin; we know the rules on that, don't we?", "Hush please and pay attention to what I'm saying - put that down, George, please", "Can you all make sure you've been to the toilet before we start Prime Minister's Questions?". But a Speaker is not a pedagogue, not master of his pupils but the servant of the House. Bercow seems incapable of grasping this distinction.

His vain, primping, smug posturing as he wriggles with pleasure like a Labrador bitch in a chair four sizes too big for him is too much to be borne. The man is deeply insensitive to the persona he projects, unaware of the noisome bilious rage he raises, unaware of his own sanctimonious and narcissitic mein with a smile you'd like to wipe from his face with a 20lb Cod, completely unaware of the shudders of revulsion at his small podgy fingers prodding the air and blind to the blackboard-shriek effect of his pious whiney estuary voice. Bercow is a horror.

Are we to endure the entire Parliamentary term with this pygmy in the chair?

3 comments:

Savonarola said...

Take an evening job as a Parliamentary sketch writer. Frank Johnson would approve of your piece on the poisonous dwarf.

Scrobs... said...

There used to be a chap on the train at Cannon Street just like him.

He was about 5' 2", and always talked to his little bunch of friends in code, like referring smugly to 'Car Sales of Tunbridge Wells' etc.

He made a lot of noise too, and was always at the front of the queue...

Budgie said...

"Are we to endure the entire Parliamentary term with this pygmy in the chair?"

Yes.

At least it will be amusing.