Dr Farquar's Case History

November 26, 2008

Dr Farquar on Voting


What happens to used voting slips? I was not feeling myself on polling day and I demand a re-count! Miss Unnerstannin

Dr Farquar says: Yes. It’s not often you are not feeling yourself, but the last time you were arrested. The voting slips are kept for one year and one day and then destroyed as low grade waste. This is to allow for any future exposure of election rigging. Why do you think it takes four years for anybody to get into the Whitehouse?

I would vote for British Telecom to be banished to a foreign country and, as in the days of Babel, make their call centre operators talk shite and play brain dead and start speaking business policy in incomprehensible broken English. Wanda Bett

Dr F: Consider it already done.

I would never vote for a politician with only one eyebrow. If I did, Liam Gallagher would get to be Prime Minister calling us all rude names and giving the camera the finger when interviewed about his view on the Lisbon Treaty, and we don’t want that do we? Isla Dunn

Dr F: I would vote his brother Noel in. I want the organ grinder not the monkey…..errr…..hang on….which is which again?

I want to vote for you because you say you are an intellectual. Well, I don’t care what your sexuality is, I think you are very brainy. Anyway, when you took nearly three minutes to let me sleep with you, I thought you must be gay anyway. It’s not a disease to want to look your best in pub toilets. So I would vote for you. You know the difference between what is useful and what was, is perfectly useless. For instance, I tried to dupe you into a compromising situation and blackmail you. I discovered, as you have so many day to day compromising situations, I missed out the one I was in with you. Silly me. What am I like?

You gave me a useful pair of scissors to cut up a useless written complaint to sue you for malpractice involving the use of peanut butter and a German shepherd and, more importantly, chipping two of my nails in the process. It was obvious that a sheep farmer from Berlin had nothing to do with the improper use of sandwich spread. Well done. Instead, I paid you a huge sum not to mention to the rest of the cheerleader troupe that my bum looks big on your lap. Thank you. (I wanna go to Spaiiiiiiiiin) Wendy Czechcleers

Dr F: Please wait in reception and clasp your hands to your head while you try and hold onto that thought.

Why do voters have to vote for VIPs, famous, or privileged classes? Individuals that are charismatic or members of the Freemasons?

Why don’t we just vote in somebody who has the personality of a paper cup, with the same impact as David Attenborough’s ironing board, that refuses to open, just before he goes on telly. A guy with a face like somebody slept in it? You know, some non-descript wanker, with flatulence and the conversation of an un-dug potato. Some fat sweaty knob, that walks about us commoners like he has his thumb up his arse all day, and has unsightly collections of saliva at the side of his mouth, because it doesn’t work properly.

A cretinous, troll-like freak with webbed feet, and ears that stick out and light up, like a Chinese lantern when his back is to the sun. A humpty backed, knuckle dragging reptile of a fellow, with crops of warts on his elbows, with three nipples and only one testicle. A person, that makes Janet Street Porter shaggable if you just rub sharp sand in your eyes first. A chump with the imagination of an amoeba with a migraine, and the agility of a sloth on valium nailed to a shithouse door. A candidate with as much focus, direction and attentiveness as Ozzy Osbourne’s sperm count when it was inadvertently unleashed inside a barrel of creosote. Oh, and with eyes in the back of their head. Ivor Point

Dr F: A potato you say? Well, all eyes will be on you, and I wish you the best of luck. If you don’t get in, Gordon Brown more than fits the present criteria.



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