Tuechicken dick of House of Commons abused prime minister for its “half sorry” when others yell “hypocrite!” at the leader of opposition, when more jockey yelling “nonsense” and “shit”, and when this professional agitator on Parliament Square using his loudspeaker scold on the four winds with Growing upset, you could say that Westminster is hesitant. In the center of it was all a unkempt, corpulent figure, attacked from many sides, trudging forward, hunched over in blizzard.
Was Boris Johnson immune to these frosty hurricanes? No. He looked like a poop. He muttered, allowing himself to be lured off- script by heckles and the onslaught of hatred flared up. Yet somehow he continued to plod along despite cataracts and oak-splitting lightning.
