Stephen Fahey: Underpants (18+)

With all the hurt currently being pushed onto the people of Poland by a small group of assholes I wasn’t going to write something funny. But fuck them, they can’t take laughter away from the people! So, underpants; we all wear them, most of the time. And so do those assholes who right now are promoting so much assholery up and down Poland. 
Statistically, some of them must wear nice underwear from time to time, such as on special occasions, but day in and day out their probable chosen garments are the run of the mill. These include: the back of the drawer, the nobody-sees-them-so-I’ll-just-keep-wearing-them-even-though-they’re-ancient-and-raggedy, the mangy, the too-tight and even the dreaded ‚cheese-wire’. 
I think we can all agree, too, that there is probably a few ‚questionable’ pairs of jocks in political circulation, the kind that the cat got to (because let’s face it, assholes such as those we’re slagging here today are likely to be cat people) but are still worn even though there are things sticking out where no things should ever be sticking out. 
Naturally, there is also a good chance that the higher up the leadership one goes the more likelihood there is of exotic or fancy underpants. The finest silk. The most delicate lace. The most endangered fur and elegant leather. The most evocative designs. The, frankly, daring low cuts and intensely frilly plays on quintessentially masculine, old-aged, saggy and erectly dysfunctional party-members’ flesh. With such marvellous, inevitable interpretations of what ‚naughty’ can accomplish with poor taste, and how little can be left to the imagination, we are, sadly, forced to accept the fact that some members will forego wearing underpants altogether. Perish the thought. 
So, as and when party-members festoon the television with their mighty personages, pump their fists, wave their arms, froth at the mouth, bulge their eyes, tremble in anger, sweat like pigs, shout of their dominance, and trumpet themselves, remember, under their expensive clothes (paid for with the blood a nation), they’re wearing underpants. And not some sort of super underpants that bestow their wearer with magical powers. No, they’re wearing normal, human underpants, as average and boring as everyone else (if, in fact, their mothers remembered to dress them properly before they sent to work in that morning). 
It would be nice to think that when they have an appearance to make on television or in the halls of government that the little people with massive egos would wear their big-boy and big-girl underpants. But we all know that they are more likely to be wearing nappies; such heavy, heavy nappies. After all, they act like children, nay, spoiled children, nay, cranky spoiled children. So it stands to reason that there is an abundance of nappies in the big house. (They probably have a steady supply of trucks laden with nappies streaming into state facilities, day and night, just to keep up with demand.) 
In time, dirty laundry always comes to light. And because our mothers told us to wear fresh underpants every day, when our time comes we’ll have nothing to worry about. However, when their time comes the so-called leaders of such a beautiful and great nation will be sorry that they hadn’t listened to their motherland. 
Such eejits are plying their trade by means of buying the votes of the poor and stabbing the life of a nation until it’s greatest living hero steps down after 27 years of unprecedented glory. They should count themselves lucky if they aren’t strung up by their underpants and wedgied so deep that they can’t remember their own names. 
Lastly, I would like to point out that I realise the paradox of attempting to promote betterment of the people by denigrating one segment of society. And that doing so lowers the overall standard, thus actually doing the opposite of what is being attempted in the first place. However, should the assholes on the throne not take this slagging on the chin, then they prove to be incapable of playing well enough with others, and as such don’t deserve the responsibilities entrusted to them. Should that be the case I for one suggest they all go home to their cats and leave the business of running the country to the sane. 

Stephen Fahey

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