king heelers the second
Enter King Heelers The Second stage right, carrying a copy of The Daily Mirror. On the cover of the Daily Mirror the audience can see fake photos of fake British soldiers peeing on fake members of Al Qaeda. The pictures have been knowingly published by an editor called Piers Morgan.
King Heelers turns to face the audience.
He is a handsome dog. I'll give him that.
There is a hush.
King Heelers: "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..."
King Heelers The Second breathes heavily a la Richard Harris and resumes speaking.
King Heelers: "This England that was wont to conquer others,
Hath made a shameful conquest of itself.
I mean when PG Wodehouse made a few radio broadcast for the Nazis,
He never dared show his face in Britain again.
He could never return home but had to move to America after World War Two.
And look at this git.
He hath not the wit, nor the brain, nor the mind of a Wodehouse.
His treachery like his life is pissant through and through.
But all the more traitorous for it.
He hath pissed upon our dead soldiers.
He hath gone in to bat for Al Qaeda because he thought he might sell a few Daily Mirrors.
And look at him.
Not for him the honorable shame of a Wodehouse.
No.
He swans around the Free World as though he owns the gaffe.
Presenting chat shows.
Interviewing other traitors like unto himself.
Publishing books that augment his lies.
Judging talent competitions as though he could ever judge anything except treachery.
This purbloind bastard who was wont to betray England,
Now sings his bastardy in nightly show.
This Swine.
This Scum.
This Vomit.
This B-ll-cks.
This... Piers Morgan."
King Heelers turns to face the audience.
He is a handsome dog. I'll give him that.
There is a hush.
King Heelers: "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..."
King Heelers The Second breathes heavily a la Richard Harris and resumes speaking.
King Heelers: "This England that was wont to conquer others,
Hath made a shameful conquest of itself.
I mean when PG Wodehouse made a few radio broadcast for the Nazis,
He never dared show his face in Britain again.
He could never return home but had to move to America after World War Two.
And look at this git.
He hath not the wit, nor the brain, nor the mind of a Wodehouse.
His treachery like his life is pissant through and through.
But all the more traitorous for it.
He hath pissed upon our dead soldiers.
He hath gone in to bat for Al Qaeda because he thought he might sell a few Daily Mirrors.
And look at him.
Not for him the honorable shame of a Wodehouse.
No.
He swans around the Free World as though he owns the gaffe.
Presenting chat shows.
Interviewing other traitors like unto himself.
Publishing books that augment his lies.
Judging talent competitions as though he could ever judge anything except treachery.
This purbloind bastard who was wont to betray England,
Now sings his bastardy in nightly show.
This Swine.
This Scum.
This Vomit.
This B-ll-cks.
This... Piers Morgan."
posted by heelers | 1:00 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home