Why I should be Mayor of London, by George Galloway

by philapilus

Smell that? Yep, that was from my arse. Aren’t you lucky?

To my friends, comrades, my legion of fans,

I address you in great humility, as a humble man, who, whilst not one to put himself forward, is nevertheless humbly putting himself forward in the London mayoral contest.

I’ve known that I should be Mayor ever since, as a prodigiously brilliant infant, I discovered how incredibly pleasant my faeces smelt.

And not just in comparison with other people’s poo, but also with such sweet scents as honeysuckle, cut-grass, and the smell of my vomit-laden burps.

As a socialist, the pleasing aroma of my bodily excrescences is something I gladly share with the commoner – I like to leave a lingering scent of bum-gas wherever I go, sometimes even dropping a little turd down my trouser leg onto the street.

Yes, swoon my friends: George wears no underpants! What right have I to keep my pleasant poo, my aromatic farts, pent up in pants, when the world could be enjoying them?

As Mayor of London I would bring my unique anal fragrance to each meeting and public appearance, and I pledge to have it artificially simulated and sprayed throughout the city by a fleet of specially commissioned ‘poot-master’ buses.

For London is the UK’s capital, and as the UK’s foremost politician I think it only right that I should lead this great city, representing it with the mellifluous sounds and fragrances of my rectum.

In short, if you want a London run by bankers, Israelis, the Tories and people who haven’t worn a leotard on TV, by all means, vote for my opponents.

But if you want a leader who is the most gifted political genius of his generation, a man whose shit truly does not smell, I humbly order you to vote for me.

 

 

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