So you can imagine the trouble I'm having as we look forward to tonight's Super Blood Wolf Moon.
The Moon Gibbon Folk are terrified. Convinced that the Moon Gibbon and the Bad Wolf will engage in a celestial battle of a scale unheard of since Guardians of the Galaxy II, that Clangers will be cast into space and the losing demi-god fall to earth where, like a monstrous Nigel Farage, it will sulk about not having a job, and threaten to start a new political party. LBC are rumoured to be planning to snap the creature up for a new phone-in called "Black Cabbies Loving Brexit".
I mean, these are the twerps who left a whole bunch of innocent monkeys shivering with cold after thinking they heard the phase of the moon was "waxing gibbons". I have a terrible problem knowing what to do with them - they can't all be Brexit Secretary. So we're going to lock them in a shed and play wild animal noises at them all night. I feel it's what they deserve.
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I'm wondering if we should do the same for the ERG of the conservative party, because they seem bent on fighting everyone. Perhaps we should promote bare knuckle fighting in Parliament to sort out their differences with their comrades on the fringes, the sensible ones that is.
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