“I am not a monster, I just detest the British and Britain. I hate you all, you Ros Beef munching idiots who think you are better than the EU,” Mr. Juncker says calmly at a luncheon.
Today he is receiving the eminence of another pompous British swine, and he can’t wait to get his claws into this piece of sacrificial meat.
“We eat Britisher cochons for breakfast here. One of them comes to me and says he wants a deal, then another comes up and says they want to stay in the EU, so I say to each one of course, you can have what you want you idiots, I play for time, it is no problem. One way or another we have you by the balls.”
And next week, it will be the same story.
“They will say that they will walk away. I laugh, for me that is the best thing, because we close the door on them forever. The Germans can sell their cars to the slit eye Chinese or the dumb Americans. We just go on, we are the EU, we survive. Look what happened with Greece? We keep paying their debt, now it is 589% of their GDP. We have hooked them forever. They will pay us until 2089. You see, you can’t walk away from the EU. We are like the biggest mafia around, once you are in only two ways out, death or prison,” Juncker adds, as a slop of emulsified food gloops from his open jabbering mouth.
All is well in Brussels, and nothing changes here fast. There is always some overpaid committee to discuss new issues within their periodical time table of unnecessary directive driven biased laws, as long as the members are sated with the impressive lucrative package deals they accrue every day, time is really not of the essence.
“Britain? What is it? I have even forgotten it exists. And I will dangle a carrot in front of that old hag every time, she takes a bite, then I retract the carrot and put in its place a nice freshly laid merde. Wonderful. To see the look on her face every time is delicious to behold. Anyway mes amis, I have a date with another barely legal young lady in my office, a different one is sent every day. It’s good to be the president.”