Trump: Bring out the gimp.
Johnson: Oh you let me out of my box, thank you master.

This was the man who boasted about grabbing women by the pussy and after Trump was elected, Farage was pictured next to him grinning like a blushing sophomore. And they want to talk about derangement syndrome? Satire is dead.

As we say in Australia, his lights are on but there's nobody home.

We could have a special tartan emblazoned with shit stains and the word bawbag on it just for them.

He just doesn't get Glasgow, but Glaswegians get him, he won't be welcome, just a hint, Nige, try hiding in a pub next time, no Scot will ever venture into a pub.

Because it's about to implode, someone on the inside has seen the future. Hang onto your arse, it's gonna be a bumpy ride.

At least we know who to boycott.

He's rattled the establishment, the problem is of course, we no longer trust the establishment to do anything but steal from us and give out tax breaks to their billionaire mates. He scares them because he asks the right questions.

Since when did any country need the support of the occupying power to become independence, her brain is mince. It'd be a messy process and the vindictiveness of the English would be on full display but it's possible.

This was after a gay anti-trans racist health secretary stepped in after the original hearing found her not guilty of antisemitism and had the cheek to demand a retrial and a guilty verdict. This isn't democracy, it's tyranny.

We have an insult in Australia for bald guys we don't like, we call them mudguard, shiny on top, shit underneath.

I've read a few how to write books, written by famous authors and some advice is good, some is maybe, and the rest can be thrown out. One person's trash is another person's treasure as they say.