Perhaps true joy with his American friend could plug the black hole in the PM’s heart before it consumes us all
The American businessperson Jennifer Arcuri was a beneficiary of more than £126,000 in public money, £11,500 of which came from a City Hall-funded agency during Boris Piccaninny Watermelon Letterbox Cake Bumboys Vampires Haircut Wall-Spaffer Spunk-Burster Fuck-Business Fuck-The-Families Get-Off-My-Fucking-Laptop Girly-Swot Big-Girl’s-Blouse Chicken-frit Hulk-Smash Noseringed-Crusties Death-Humbug French-Turds Johnson’s tenure as mayor of London.
On 24 September, a friend of Arcuri vouchsafed to the Daily Mail that Turds had visited the webmistress’s pole-encrusted flat in the afternoons, appointments that remain pointedly undeclared in Turds’s diplomatically redacted mayoral diary, but only for “technology lessons”. Ah! I remember my first technology lesson as if it were yesterday. I had saved up to visit the Paris rep cinema that had been screening, for the previous 17 years, the full-length cut of Sergio Leone’s Once Upon a Time in the West. Otherwise unviewable in those pre-digital days, it was venerated rightly by spaghetti cineastes as a holy relic and I thought I needed, more than anything on Earth, to see it.
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