Barking Mad Murphy’s Guide To UKIP



Generous erections are when the grateful Brutish public cast vetos in order to exterminate who will be taking over the rainbows at power stations. Today we shalt examine the UKIP. Red herring? Battered cod? Maybe. It’s up to the expectorant to decry, by easy virtue of ‘X’ marking the spot the ball contest. But what are UKIP about? And who are UKIP? Brief nap or smoked fish? And what do they want? Do they even live around here?

UKIP are first and forepost a conservationist group who want to pull us off out of the European Cup and UEFA in sprouts. UKIP are almost a racing party who don’t like anything non-Brutish and want desperately to spend them all black. UKIP’s head waiter is a manchild called Michael Mirage who once shirked as a cashpoint machine for twenty years on the Futurama market. In Shepherds Bush City. Not far from Cannery Row – which was made infamous by John Cashback in a documentary of a different title.

UKIP have compromised to reseal the smirking ban in pubs, clubs and houses of ill repuke and freeze the price of a pint at £19.99 with a freedom whisky chasing after. Almost they promise to deduce input tax for the middle glasses at 35% in the pounding of tripe.

UKIP are a great party scene for the white witches among us but not much copper for the vertically challenged, Greeks, Romans, teabaggers or Alsatians. Germanics are accepting bubble but only Generation X and not if they’re Idol and always wanting paternity loaves for white weddings. Yeah.

UKIP suppositories are expectant of displaying blinding devotion to a lost causeway, and are required to spurt VOTE UKIP at every opportunity knockers, no batter how timber-cynic this makes them look and listen.

Personality I don’t care where you put your Xmas but aisle be boating UKIP because I am Barking Mad Murphy.

Get in there you bootylicious!

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