LCD Views has heard from our source inside the London Fire Brigade that they are just going to stand back and let Boris Johnson’s pant’s fire rage out of control until it burns itself out, this time.
“It’s every day,” our anonymous source informed LCD, “We get called out sometimes six, seven times to the Foreign Office because Bojo has lied again, set his pants on fire, again and is now running around his office bellowing for someone to fill his paddling pool with water so he can douse the flames.”
It’s believed the strain on resources has become so serious it’s causing collateral damage.
“There was a record number of cats left stuck up trees beyond the mandatory target rescue time of three hours in the last quarter of 2017. That is because most of our units are standing with hoses in hands attempting to extinguish the blazing fires of Mr Johnson’s Y-fronts.”
This has led to fears within the service that Mr Johnson is actually part of a deeper conspiracy aimed at them.
“They want to privatise the fire service. They’re making us hit service standards they set themselves so they can claim only G4S or Carillion can run a cost efficient, target driven pant’s fire extinguishing fire service. It’s a scam.”
It’s thought things are going to get worse before they get better.
“Boris has nowhere to turn to. He’s been shown up to have been talking out of his ass about the £350M a week NHS claim, so now he’s blown it out to over £400M in the hope of being credible? He’s unstable. Where next? We can fund the social sector, house building targets with the money saved by destroying our economy on WTO terms?”
So they have taken a stand.
“When we got the call this morning we decided enough is enough. We’re not saving his flabby backside from burns this time.
We’ve sent a unit out and all they’ve done is erect a cordon to keep the public safe and they’re standing back watching Boris run about in circles hollering for love as his hair singes and his pants burn.”
Get the marshmellows. No wait, second thoughts, it’s hard to imagine what they’d taste like charred over such a blaze.
Just bring a folding chair, sit down outside Boris Johnson’s office and watch the metaphorical flames.