Merging? Don’t be so bloody silly, I don’t know where you heard that – oh, of course, I suppose it was that bald idiot, he wishes. I’m not saying it out loud, their spies are everywhere – let me write it down. Was I right? Now give me that paper back – I’ll just swallow it. Well, I don’t care who told you, was it the woman at Vote Quit? Utter irresponsibility them trying to split the movement like this.
No, for the last time, we won’t be merging with anyone, especially not the Leaving Party – I call them Vote NW3 since they never go farther than Primrose Hill, very grassroots. And not with those fascist clowns at Over And Out, either. Have you met the guy who funds them? Mental, literally, with a bad case of sex addiction. Well, we’ve got pictures of course, no, remind me later, too dangerous here, I couldn’t even trust my deputy.
How do you think the press got hold of the plan to free a Strasbourg goose at the press conference? Only three people knew! Him, me and the woman who trained it to honk each time Cameron said the word border. No, he’s moved across to Exit For Ever, good riddance, they’ve still got zero ideas, no money, huge internal splits, basically it’s a dictatorship. How do I know? Well, we’re bugging their phones, haha, only joking! But that’s why we’ll never merge, not that I ever wanted to become a household name on the back of leading Go Away EU Make Us Sick, but if that’s the price of keeping that borderline pervert off the Brexit broadcasts, so be it. It’s a patriotic duty.
Sure, he’s better known than me, that’s exactly why it’s so essential you people listen when I say he’s a mad, quarter-Hungarian bastard who’d sell his own grandmother. You think that’s nasty? Tough shit, you ain’t seen nothing yet: the future of this country is at stake. If the price of being Out’s figurehead is five months of mutually assured destruction ending in a Yes vote, you won’t find me running away, oh no.
