Bock’s New Political party

I was wandering around the house trying to make up my mind if I should go for a run or not.

That’s how bad things are now. I’m sick of the fat-bastardness that swept over me after I stopped smoking and started eating like a starving crocodile-pig. Sick of it. I want my old chisel-featured self back, but that’s not what I wanted to tell you about.

No. That’s just context.

I was trying to make my mind up: run or no run, and I didn’t know what to do, so I went outside to kick the dog savagely while I mulled it over. I find it very calming to beat the dog mercilessly for a few minutes each day while he tries to bite my scrotum off and I spray him in the eyes with Cillit Bang.

It’s good, aerobic exercise, but today I thought a run would help me to clear up the last details of the new political party I’m going to form. It will be based on a new model, replacing the tired old formula of Right and Left, which are now utterly obsolete, since the world’s economic systems have evaporated. From now on, the parties of the world will be either Right or Wrong.

I’m going to start the Wrong Party. It will be a party of the Hard Wrong. I’ll be a Wrong-Wing demagogue, shouting Wrongist slogans at anyone who comes within 17.3 meters of me, and leadership of the party will be open to two classes of people: myself, and anyone who can divide Avogadro’s Number by the square root of Pi in under three seconds.

Come here, you bastard, I snarled at the hound. Come here so I can kick you.

Did I mention that Satan’s Hound fouled the fucking stairs last night, and earned a high-velocity steel toecap in the anus for his trouble? No? Well he did, the bastard.

But as the cowed hound slunk towards me for his daily sadistic kicking at my hands, or feet, I noticed something a little odd. A trifle unusual for this part of Ireland.


What the fuck? I asked the dog, who cowered with his arse in the air, awaiting the first brutal kick of the day.

Oh fuck off, I barked at him. It’s fuckin snowing.

This was great news, because it meant I shouldn’t go for a run, which was the result I hoped for all along. Snow. I took it as a sign that the new party would prosper.

The Wrong Party: Snowing you under with bullshit.

Will you sign up?



Applications are flooding in. I hereby appoint the following cabinet members.

Mr G Ink Minister for Arts and Free Helicopter Rides
Ms S Problemchildbride Secretary of War and Home Baking
Mr S Andcry Deputy Secretary of Baking with special responsibility for Rugby
Ms D Eviatrix Minister for Skobe Control
Dr O Rgasm Minister for Good Lovin’
Ms S Weary Under-minister for Good Lovin’
Mr B Ackhander Minister for Brown Envelopes
Mr TG Zucchini Minister for Weather Control and Spin-Nursing

20 replies on “Bock’s New Political party”

What’s your manifesto Bock?

If it involved kicking Willie O’Dea in the arse with your steel toecap I’d consider making a donation purely to support the democratic process of course!

Do you take Anglo shares? AIB? BOI? Butter Vouchers?

If you divide and Avogadro by a pi you get a brussel sprout remainder 1.

There, am I in? I’ll be your Secretary for War and Home-Baking, how ’bout it? I think I could bring my particular strengths to the position. And anybody making a wise-crack about my scones being better than bullets can kiss my floury arse. See? See? I’m fiery adn slightly unstable! What more could you want in a Secretary of War and HB?

Ah, yes, all well and good but for what substance ?

and also, can I have a free ride, like green Ink wants?

Oi! Skobies are my people! If anyone should be controlling the bastards, it should be me!

I’m sure that it would be the Wrong thing to do.

So yeah, create a witty and colourful little photoshopped blog badge, and I’m in.

I want to be Minister for Brown Envelopes with special responsibility for the redevelopment of the black economy

It’s not a question of ‘if’ I’m going to join, Bock, it’s a question of when are you going to start paying me for services already rendered?

And don’t give me any of that ‘economies of scale’ bollocks. I’ve yet to meet a frugal politician

Bock, you’ll just go like the rest of them. You’ll be in the hairport with Harney down in Florida, loving it up on my dime. Look at the Greens! Couldn’t tie their Birkenstock laces for the rigidity of their back bones, and now those same sandals stink of shit. Stay out of it, and keep your principles intact. Now that Avogadro, he was constant to the end.

You’ll need to break down Sam’s ministry, the War and Home Baking one. I’ll do the Baking for a small Mercedes and huge pension, payable concurrent with my even huger salary.

Can I be called Mary too. Like the others?

Who’s in charge , btw? Or does it matter?

No you say, no-one in charge. Fair nuff.

“Like the Manifesto, put it to the Testo”

Ministry of Lost Geansies with an emphasis on unspecified dig outs.

Oh and make sure my office is between S.Weary and Dr Orgasm there’s a good man.

Boss, Boss, Boss you just hafta gimme Environmental Control, I have loads of clever and too technical to explain to the ordinary eejit ideas about weather control that will need an absolute FORTUNE spent in reports and assessments, and consultants, loads of consultants, Which I’ll personally handpick of course, myself.
hmmm I’ll take ministry for PR as a second choice. I’ll employ loadsa spinnurses, loads of em……… Latvian Spinnurses naturally……

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.