Monday, 10 November 2008

A Day in the Life of Harriet Harpie

Harriet and her "possee" strut their stuff

Wake up in a hot sweat in the middle of a dream about Barack Obama.

Look over at hideously white husband and frown.

Get up, kiss signed photo of Fidel Castro ("To Harriet: Keep Left! Love, Uncle Fidel") and put on trousers.

Take off trousers and put on red skirt.

Sit on gold-plated toilet and ring bank to check the promised donations have cleared.

Put on white poppy.

Leave house in limo driven by black chauffeur. Stop off at Job Centre and order all whites to go home as it's racist to take a job that an immigrant could do.

Arrive at House of Commons.

Notice that police officer on duty at gate is white and male. Ring Scotland Yard and demand he be replaced by a lesbian Somali.

Attend debate about the financial crisis. Make a speech demanding that whereas white people who deposited money in Icelandic banks should not be reimbursed, non-whites must not only be fully reimbursed but also compensated for their trauma at the hands of racist white bankers.

Look out of office window and seethe with rage at the statue of Churchill in Parliament Square. Ring Jacqui Smith and instruct her to replace Churchill with Stalin.

Harangue House of Commons office messenger for being white.

Admonish House of Commons Site Services for giving me a white phone.

Fly into a rage at House of Commons IT department for giving me a white monitor and a white keyboard.

Conduct interviews for researcher post. Reject all white candidates before they've sat down. Appoint non-English speaking, Al Qaeda supporting, Muslim woman just off the boat from Bangladesh.

Put on stab-proof vest, crash helmet and lead-lined combat trousers and go for a casual, inconspicuous stroll in the constituency, accompanied by 10 policemen, 20 interpreters, a SWAT team and an SAS unit in a helicopter.

Arrive back at House of Commons and pour a large whisky. Drink it while fantasising about Will Smith.

Ring Labour Party HQ and instruct them that from now on all Labour candidates must be black or Asian. Any non-gay whites wanting to be considered as candidates are to be reported to the police for racism (current Labour MPs excluded).

Ring Archbishop of Canterbury and enquire as to when work will begin on the conversion of Westminster Abbey into a mosque.

Ring police and demand that all BNP members be arrested.

Leave House of Commons and head home. Stop off at convenience store on the way and get interpreter to buy another bottle of whisky.

Arrive home in gated estate.

Pour a large whisky and drink it while fantasising about Trevor Phillips.

Ring Trevor Phillips and promise him a knighthood for services to diversity.

Look out of window and notice black youths hanging around. Open window and yell: "This is a white area! Get back to Brixton! Bloody immigrants!"

Check husband is asleep.

Kiss signed photo of Enoch Powell ("To Harriet: It'll be all Right in the end. Love, Uncle Enoch").

By Watling

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

Hahahaha, that's excellent Watling :-))

She must've forgot to ring the kids to see how they're getting on at public school. Too busy fantasising about enrichers I guess :-)

The only time this pig-ugly marxist traitor could give a red-blooded male excitement is when she's swinging from a rope.

And for what she's done to her own people she deserves nothing less.

Reconquista.

johnofgwent said...

It strikes me that if she were to try to get on a tube train wearing a jacket that bulky that fifn't have that fetching logo, she'd be running serious risk of getting seven bullets in the head without warning.

Anonymous said...

Now wouldnt that be enriching for all?

Anonymous said...

One word.... P R I C E L E S S !!!!!!