That woman.
That pesky woman is my muse.
Until that man – that foolish clownish jester has collapsed on his own self-esteem…
Until everyone who eats with him is repulsed by his belching & farting…
Until all his children & wives & employees are sick of him…
Until there is a global alliance of USA Asia Australia Antartica Cork Canada Greenland Russia China Galway North Pole South & Middle America Mars Moon Cobblers Hairdressers Uncle Tom Cobley Walt Whitman Jesus Confucius Judas Mary Joseph Europe Kerry Cannes Curry Fish&Chips Pope Francis Rice Doonbeg and the Oscars …
Until he’s wet himself so many times White House cleaners go on strike for danger money…
Until the Fraud exposes himself as having had a transplant auto-generating intelligence…
Until that day and beyond – let us all follow him – and harass him into the sewer where he grew up and where he deserves a place in the Buffoons’ Hall of Fame.
Meanwhile – let’s all raise our glasses to that magnificent woman and her flying Twitter Machine.
From Bath to Cork with baby Grace 