silent flows the pee

Wandering around the skangernet, by chance I alight on broadcaster journalist poet Bill Bates' complete arse of a blog.
It's called A Kilcullen Charade.
(A Kilcullen Chronicle actually - Ed note.)
And lo!
What light through yonder bullshit breaks.
It is a photo of abortion rights activist Richard Fortescue at Royal Ascot race course.
I suppose even baby killers need a break now and again.
So having legalised the murder of unborn children in Ireland through referendum, it's off to the races to celebrate.
Ah me.
Now is the Summer of my discontent made wondrous winter by this sonofabitch.
Bill Bates' blog is obsessed with Richard Fortescue.
I think it's the tache.
He's photographed it from every conceivable angle, in rain, snow, wind, and various other mundane weather events which Bates invariably attributes to climate change.
Could the tache itself be the cause of climate change?
We'll know on Judgement Day.
In today's photo yon Fortescue has a lean and hungry look. But he's smirking, as though he'd just stooped over to pick up a winning lottery ticket and discovered an aborted baby instead.
My gentle pre-raphaelite features take on a translucent hue.
I think it's most unfair that Richard Fortescue and literally thousands like him over the years, have been forced to travel all the way to the UK to attend Royal Ascot.
I think they should build a Royal Ascot in Ireland so that Richard Fortescue and his cohorts could attend Royal Ascot without having to cross the Irish sea.