A typical retort from a kunt so far removed from reality, one of Thatcher's lot spouting sh*te about something he knows F**k all about, the type of kunt the likes of Cameron, Hague, that other Kunt, John Redwood(think that kunt's frog up) who cares, and all the rest of Thatcher's establishment junkies, who make it there goal in life to F**k over the working classes, a gin drinking arl dodderer, with a silverspoon stuck up his f***in Eton educated jacksey, hope the Kunt chokes on his Churchillian cigar and his piles give him excrutiating agony, senile old Kunt.
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