It’s A Win for Doomocracy
It was two in the afternoon when Antony Puce slouched into the Pig’s Arms and drew up a stool at the bar. Merv could see that he had had a big night and it was no big deal guessing what was on his mind.
Merv tossed the ice into the shaker, added his magic pink liquors, capped the vessel and shook it like he meant it. “Hold the little paper umbrella” said Puce. And Merv decanted the Pink into a cocktail glass fit for …. a bit of a cock.
“The main game?” said Merv, well-knowing that a leadership spill against a PM is likely to happen only once in a lifetime. “Of course.” said Puce.
He adjusted his Anthony Squires bag of fruit pants to restore the blood flow to his wedding tackle, raised the…
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