Ann Widdecombe – Science May Cure Being Homosexual But Brexit Won’t Cure Being British

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Ann Widdecombe’s rant at the European parliament was just about par for the course for someone so openly patronising and who firmly believes that science has the cure for homosexuality.

I am all for vivid analogies, strong language, and somewhat controversial views. God knows my posts do tend to ramble on with poetic soliloquies and psychedelic images. But Anne Widdecombe really needs to take it easy, retire in the country as far away from Brussels as possible, and start knitting.

Here is an old lady who has passed her sell-by date to such an extent that you cannot even forgive her because she’s a comedian. Not only is she hallucinating about blue-eyed darlings waving rainbow-coloured flags, she is now convinced that handcuffed men and women with curly hair are escaping the clutches of a three-eyed monster living in Brussels. I may have actually believed her had she not exaggerated about the eyes.

Let us not mock the afflicted – no, let us not, poor “sole” that she is. And I meant to misspell the word because that’s exactly what Ann Widdecombe is – a sole belonging to an unpolished and worn-out shoe that is treading the British countryside and not avoiding the muck, if you know what I mean. Now, how’s that for poetic licence?

It goes without saying that each Member-State has its very own comical demagogue who manages to convince people that only the country you live in can save you from oblivion. But the UK seems to have more of these silly individuals who call themselves politicians, than most. I suppose it’s that stretch of murky water called the Channel that makes the difference, with the motto “Wogs begin at Calais” characterising the deep feelings of those who voted Brexit. Do I offend? Well, I warned you that I’m not scared of strong language.

 

 

 

Such misery for a 70-year-old who resembles an aging and desperate dragon suffering from whooping-cough. She even admits herself that she’s “off,” which would account for the funny smell that lingered after her outburst. But, more importantly, in less than two minutes, she has contributed to global warming by emitting foul language and greenhouse gases.

 

{…} the powers that be, have decided to actually increase the size of fishermen’s meshes, thereby reducing their income by 40 percent. That’s what you do here, that’s why we’re going, nous allons, wir gehen, we’re off. – Ann Widdecombe

 

I must mention “en passant,” that it’s “nous partons,” and not “nous allons.” But I digress.

 

Yes indeed, indeed yes. Those monsters from Brussels are at it again, three eyes or not. What on earth made them decide to want to try to protect tiny little fish from being caught in a net whose mesh is just tailored for killing anything that moves. Fish of the Channel and North Sea, you are warned not once or twice, but thrice. Off with you! Come on, shoo! You had better shoo lest you be caught in a net “made in the South West.” Is it not better he who is harassed and pursued but not caught?

I suppose that in mentioning oppressors and the oppressed, Ann Widdecombe knows exactly what she is talking about. Her views on homosexuality, where she states that science may help cure anyone who just happens to be homosexual, have been widely reported. In speaking the way she does, Ann Widdecombe borders on the burlesque before capsizing into a phobia.

More worrying, is that homophobia, abortion and the EU are not the only phobias that are firmly lodged in her psyche. Ann Widdecombe also hates little fish swimming in the sea. But that’s nothing compared to the way they hate her!