RIP to Boris Johnson’s Mother
Now is not the time for jokes, now is not the time for snide white boys writing Medium posts from behind their laptop in the safety of their flat looking for anything to do other than actually working. A man’s mother has passed away and, like everyone else I shall be carrying out a period of mourning to mark this woman’s life. There will be cries, from the certain sections of the ‘tolerant left’ saying horrible, vitriolic that are surprisingly reasonable and with much grounding such as “Hope it’s her son up next” and “Shame Boris didn’t die last year when he was hospitalised with a disease that he allowed to run rampant across the country, killing many that, unlike him, weren’t rich and powerful enough to survive”. I would like to take this opportunity to roundly condemn all of those people, especially at such a time like this, I would never say that Boris Johnson is a nasty little pervert. It would be inappropriate now to suggest that had he died before his mother that she would be appalled by the inevitable claims and allegations of high-level paedophilia that would have swiftly followed his death in a Jimmy Saville-esque onslaught. To do so would simply be disrespectful to the man and to his late mother, who would never have imagined that of the son she raised (via a slew of nurses) to racially abuse people and hang out with a bunch of posh pricks who slot their dicks neatly into dead pigs, fitting it like a glove, as if it has found its rightful place.
In times like this, it’s important to celebrate the woman and her achievements. It is impossible to say anything more about Charlotte Johnson than to label her a true artist. Since her death, I have seen many paintings that she did in my research. She captured moments of life in an ethereal way that few could hope to emulate. Though there are impressive expressionist works of an underground train and a wooded city street, she is undoubtedly most well-renowned for the painting on the left. A stunning portrait of an unknown subject that, not a lot of people know, was actually a police sketch conducted in collaboration with officers on the lookout for a young blonde man who had smashed a pub window in a drunken frenzy, unfortunately the young man was never brought to justice.
The greater tragedy still, is that this amazing woman left behind four orphans, albeit adult orphans. They do have a father but I would imagine that he will soon die of grief. I can’t even begin to imagine the sorrow that he must be feeling, you can picture him, in the million-pound flat he keeps for his mistress, in her arms and voluptuous breasts just crying like a baby. I can only assume that this death of his first wife will cause him to stoop further and further into his apparent alcoholism that denied him the clairvoyance to realise going to the pub to harass women during a pandemic wasn’t a good political move for his family. The poor chap, he’s had a hard enough life as it is, I can’t even begin to imagine the pain of never knowing your paternal grandfather because he was assassinated by Turkish independents as he tried to oppress them with an iron fist as Interior Minister in the Ottoman Empire. Not only did Stanley Johnson grow up with that shadow hanging over him, but he also, try though me might, was unable to live up to his great-great-great grandfather, the mighty 6 foot 11 inch(!!!), 400 lbs first King of Württemberg. The death of someone so beloved to him, really completes Stanley Johnson’s trifecta, despite having a literal giant as an ancestor, neither him, nor his Prime Minister son could grow to reach a measly 5 foot 9 inches and this limited stature prevented them from following in his footsteps and becoming King. Manlet, no crown, dead ex-wife, a combination I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.
I hope reading this has given you some perspective before you go back to your lives as internet trolls, harassing a kind gentle man, whose only sins were loving his mother too much, calling gay men “Bumboys”, and massive corruption and incompetence leading to poverty and deaths of hundreds of thousands of people. The next time you go to make a nasty comment about Boris Johnson’s mother, just remember she has already suffered enough having to pretend to love a fat shit that looks like his hair is stuck on with pritt-stick, it’s about time she is able to rest in peace. At least until Boris joins her in death and the paedophilia allegations come out.
Follow me on Twitter @CallumRG21
