I blame myself.  I don’t live in London and I don’t have a vote in the London Mayoral election but still, I blame myself.

I was complacent and lazy.

I felt it inconceivable that any semi-liberal, semi-cosmopolitan, semi-literate, semi-educated, semi-sane, semi-self-respecting electorate could possibly vote into the office of the third largest directly-elected role in Europe a man who regularly utters racist, homophobic, idiotic and offensive remarks; a liar; and an unabashed adulterer.

I was wrong.

I did, half-jokingly, suggest to someone a few weeks ago that Cunt Boris’s election might not be as bad as it first seemed because the unadulterated, half-arsed wankfest he’ll make of the job – Top Tory Toff In Power In Action – over the course of the next two years will do more harm to Posh Boy Dave’s electoral prospects than anything Gordon Brown can manage.

I was joking: it will be every bit as bad as it first seems.

Reap.

Reap.

Reap.

You’re gonna reap just what you sow.