Boris Johnson—pro-Brexit conservative blowhard with a penchant for casual racism and sexism—is the new Prime Minister of the United Kingdom. While the former foreign secretary and London mayor’s rise to Conservative Party leadership was relatively predictable, it’s no less frustrating.
In his victory speech, he promised to, “deliver Brexit, unite the country, and defeat [Labour Party leader] Jeremy Corbyn.” Very promising coming from a man who said women who wear burkas look like letterboxes and once referred to black Africans as pickaninnies with “watermelon smiles.”
The only good this election can do is improve Ango-American relations, as citizens of both nations can commiserate over the fact that we’re both controlled by obnoxious buffoons with bad hair and bad politics. Trump and Johnson are both New York City-born gaffe-prone chauvinists who want to impress Nigel Farage.
While there would be nothing more cathartic than for Johnson’s reign to be a blissfully short detour before a Labour government takes over once more, for now, it feels appropriate for to find catharsis in the most juvenile, unproductive way possible.
So here we go.
Looking a bit neat, as opposed to its default state, which is that of a nest occupied by deranged pigeons:
Living on the edge:
Coming into class late with Starbucks and bad immigration policy:
Actually, I take back everything. Maybe his hair looks better disheveled:
Choose your fuckin’ fighter:
That is all.