The Shirtless Bard
Things must be really bad for “rising star” Chris Bryant. The Labour wannabe attack dog has reverted to writing cringing anti-coalition poetry…
But now the champagne flutes are passed their time -
And late-night, lightweight, internecine strife.
The autumn parliamentary term commences
With all eyes fixed on Osborne’s pending knife.
Statistics, figures, numbers stride the land,
Brought forth by each to stay the other’s hand.
Some worship at the shrine of deficit reduction,
They see a chance to slash the state, scot-free,
They eulogise the Big Society
But in their hearts they make a grand deduction:
Let Alexander, Clegg and Cable take the rap.
There is more, much more here. Though Bryant might not even make it to the Shad Cab, Guido wouldn’t recommend he gives up the day job…
Doggerel.
His pants,
Are pants.
Does he take em off before he gets buggared?
He can probably spell Buggered.
More skid marks than Pirelli’s test track.
Dunno about that – passed / past ? It’s the lack of a grammar school educayshun don’t y’know.
Puff piece.
Champagne? What a common little oik. We all drink Chateau Petrus.
Twat
He should be on the stage
The next one out of town
We’ll have to share a room sometime.
What a tosser. Has he no shame to blame for his lack of fame? An absolute tosser.
I wandered lonely as a clown,
That floats on a wave
of public debt,
When all at once I spied a crowd of journalists
but no one recognised me, without my pants on.
I wandered lonely as a clod,
Feeling like a stupid …person
Wondering if this dreadful day,
Could turn into a worse un.
Is doggerel poetry by a dog?
And if islamic would it be by a pig?
No, that would be piggerel.
But now the rear end toys are passed their time -
After late-night invasion, colonic pain.
The autumn photo-op commences
With all eyes fixed on Bryant’s hidden package.
Shadows, outlines, bulges insinuate the Big Sock,
Massaged much by him to snap the poseur’s shot.
Some worship at the shrine of tiny organs,
They see a chance to whip those pants off, scrotum free,
They eulogise the semi-naked torso
But in their hearts they make a grand election:
Let Chris Bryant appear as a twat.
Then I forgot to add that labour wrecked the economy real bad.
What a load of old shit.
Sorry, o/t but re. the Mark Saunders inquest.
Why did the Police put themselves in his line of fire?
It wasn’t as though they were protecting anyone behind them. It was just them, they had cleared the area etc. He couldn’t kill any innocent passers by. It was just him and the police there. Why did they allow themselves to be shot thus giving them an excuse to kill him? Why couldn’t they just position themselves around a corner and have a remote camera trained on the window/flat?
Talk him into boredom for as long as it takes. Let his bloody wife talk to him to. Who are they to prevent her from doing so? If he tops himself then he tops himself. Fair enough. Why not use the time taken talking to prepare to storm the room instead of engineering a tense situation where the use of firearms
I find their actions very strange and borderline insane.
The jury was prevented from saying a few pertinent points. Why? I haven’t heard of other Juries requesting the same so they must have had some serious reservations they wished to communicate.
The handling of the inquest is strange.
“engineering a tense situation where the use of firearms ”
… was a much more likely endgame?
Maybe I have missed something, but could someone please tell me what Mark Saunders was so suicidally concerned about? So far the media appears to have either not found out, or can’t be bothered to tell the public what MSs problem actually was.
I mean it is not that Barristers being blind drunk is in anyway unusual, however they don’t have a history of resorting to shooting at policemen as a general rule. Most people, myself included usually start trying to kiss everyone and then then end up with their heads down the toilet when they overindulge on booze.
This is a genuine question, can anyone help?
I think you’ll find that they had not cleared the area.
There was a woman and child in the flat next door and they could not get to her.
She said at the inquest that she feared for her and her child’s life throughout the ordeal.
You might want to look afresh at your immediate desire to whack the Police! They don’t go out to kill for the hell of it – they could go join the army to do that and get to kill a lot more brazilian plumbers, drunken twat barristers, ex-timeonline readers and gun-toting bank robbers galore.
This ploker wanted to “die by cop” and they wasted too many bullets on him – that was the police mistake!
The mind boggles at your subservient nature.
The mind boggles at your subservient nature.
At least Pam Ayres kept her clothes on.
Thankfully.
The original unfrocked vicar!
Who? Pam Ayres? Cripes, moy dreams is all a-shattered.
Oi, Bryant, you’re bard!
What an unbelievable silly person.
Chris me little Y fronted twat, we are spending £120 milion interest PER DAY to service the debt you and yours have run up. Surely you realise that that means we are paying for another countries schools’n'hopsitals when, with better husbandry of OUR money, we could be paying for our own.
Or paying less tax ………
And you think we give a fuck.
I KNOW you don’t.
They are like spoiled teenage brats who think that desitute, frazzled dad (the taxpayer) is a real mean bastard for not being able to continue throwing money around.
He should get together with Mark Oatibix.
He can shit his pants etc. with OatSoSimple and take a pic in the mirror.
Job done! It’s got his shit all over them.
I’m up for it!
Mmmmmm!!!!!!!!….. chocolate underpants!
Poor dear has to work off his batshit insane disappointment at Labour losing. He chose Brown over Blair, what a fucking loser.
Benders stick together.
Quick! Get a bucket of water.
Too long for #reelmolesworth #nationalpeotryday 160 characters or less on Twitter I’m afraid.
160 characters or much less is the average brain retention buffer for a Twatter user, Facebook too.
Chris Bryant’s packet
is a bit of a racket
While seeming quite broad
it’s an obvious fraud
He augments his wee cock
by stuffing a sock
or else, he never would hack it.
He’s into MS enhanced u/p I spy. Must be a small dick and I thought he was a big dick!
That’s more like it. This guy is liebour through and through and the party needs many more like him.
No budgie smuggling going on there.
Why do socialists think that they are the only ones who should be drinking champagne?
Dim Chris Bryant is passed his best
The time is now, put on your vest
P
Wtf is going on, i didn’t hit submit………!!!!!!
That is your best effort to date.
Just ignore him, he’s an attention seeker.
And you’re not? Posting a reply, hoping someone will agree with you.
Are you talking to me?
Well finish the fuckin thing
Poxy concrete pumps always conking out before the jobs done
Are you his boyfriend?
No!
Now go home and fuck your mother.
That’s assuming she hasn’t been turned into pork chops and bacon.
Jeez, you need to sign up for an anger management course there fella. You’ve obviously got some issues to work through.
I know, I’ll take a picture of myself in my grotty pants and post it on the internet, no one will recognise me.
What a sad little man this Bryant creep is! – why on earth would he take himself so seriously? – silly little twerp
That’s what makes him a clown. It’s great fun seeing him execute his pratfalls all over the media.
There was a young hune named Chris,
His Y-fronts, were stained with piss,
“Champagne” he would muse,
“Damn Tory’s!!”, His views,
But his political points, were always a miss.
He’s quite obviously barking mad. No doubt Mandy can give him a good seeing-to and would get those pants off him sharpish.
Unfrock him !
He is not a poet and he does not know it.
There was a young scoundrel named Chris,
His Y-fronts, were stained with his piss,
“Champagne” he would muse,
“Damn T0ry’s!!”, His views,
But his political points, were always a miss.
Make him minister for Forgotten Boring Celtic Poets. His style combines the worst of Dylan Thomas and Mcgonagall.
Thomas was a great poet and writer.
How dare you campare him to that gabbling knob McGonagall.
Sir Hudibras his passing worth,
The manner how he sallied forth;
His arms and equipage are shown;
His horse’s virtues, and his own.
Th’ adventure of the bear and fiddle
Is sung, but breaks off in the middle.
It’s coming to something when Kay Burley makes someone look the idiot.
She has her uses.
Hunts that big have no uses
A bit rich him saying “Don’t lie”
Perhaps he thinks that’s his job…oh, right, it IS his job.
Could be worse – Red Ed got made a fool of by Philip Schofield earlier
That’s almost as bad as Vogon Poetry..
“Ode To A Small Lump Of Green Putty I Found In My Armpit One Midsummer Morning…”
That’s fucking genius compared to Bryants effort.
Please Red Ed give me shadow cabinet post, then we can have Balls over for a Sunday roast.
Another roastie, Vicar?
With the departures of McNulty and Sion Simon, Labour have been looking for a new No 1 Twat.
Looks like Bryant has just nominated himself
Large pool of twats to choose from
That is why an outstanding piece of twattishness is required – Bryant has just supplied it.
Seeing him wearing those pants shows clearly shows he’s qualified to be Shadow Minister Without Portfolio.
From what I can see, he needs Balls.
There was a wee man called McBroon,
who never ate pudding with a spoon,
the girls all laughed, cos they knew he was daft and called him the silly old bugger McLoon.
What a total and complete wanker.
Every time you run that horrifying photo I’m less inclined to revisit the blog
The sight of a semi-naked Bryant and the use of the word “rising” in the title rather compounds the disgust, especially so soon after dinner.
I’d rather read about police-protected dogging. That’s more tasteful – just.
Is it just me or is the cover of the new Manic Street Preachers album based on this particular photo
http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_1_49?url=search-alias%3Dpopular&field-keywords=manic+street+preachers+postcards+from+a+young+man&sprefix=manic+street+preachers+postcards+from+a+young+man
Stop beating about the bush, for heaven’s sake. Just tell us what you really think.
I’d like to fuck your dead granny.
I read through Mr Bryant’s rap
And it’s an utter load of tosh.
I wish he’d go and learn to write
And not pour out this utter bilge.
I may be just a silly josser
But Bryant is a poetaster.
His poem is an utter farce
And he should stick it up his blog.
That’s better.
60 – ‘poetaster’, Sir Double Double-U? You flatter him! He’s obviously never learned to count syllables, so wouldn’t know a Hypermetric line from The Circle Line, and consequently has not the least notion of scansion. The fact that Keats modelled his stanzas on Spenser’s (The Faerie Queene…) has passed (yes: it’s the Past Participle of ‘pass’) him by, so, as he wouldn’t know an Alexandrine if it tried to ‘wind its slow length’ around him, he doesn’t realise that his last lines are too short.
Gamma minus.
I like that poem. It was shit.
He’s a better poet than Gordon was a Chancellor.
How the fuck did the Taffys vote this twat back in, must be the sheep.
There was a lad called called chris, whose poetry was puerile as p*ss
He knew it stank, when the Lords called it w*nk and Ladies said what the fck is this.
Taffy was a Welshman,
Taffy lived in Gwent,
Taffy votes for Labour
Don’t tell him Chris is bent.
That is better than Bryant’s effort
I googled his wiki entry. Apparently this ‘poetry’ is the output of somebody who has got an English degree from Oxford University.
They should burn his college to the ground if they hand out English degrees to people who could come out with that kind of sh1te. And you thought declining standards only happened in the last 13 years. Jesus Fucking Christ.
Just had a comment filed into automatic moderation but will try to rephrase – any self respecting Oxbridge English graduate should have the awareness not to offer up such a piece of shit for public consumption – cue you know who
This poem is so good that I shall use it in my prime ministerial speech next week.
They’re changing guards at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Bryant went down with malice.
Alice is marrying one of the guard –
“But that’s not fair – it’s me that’s hard!”
Said the twat.
Fucking hell.
What utter, utter sh1te.
Move over Mr William McGonagall. You get to move up the rankings.
… while I, and Labour, will ever pour out crap.
Alan Douglas, poet.
The poems of Chris Bryant
Are like a Robin Reliant:
A heap of worthless shite.
Goodnight.
I am not sure which half of a seagull you are but it is Reliant Robin. Would you say Scimitar Reliant? They also manufactured Reliant Kittens and Foxes, I recall, and Reliant Rebels.
Poetic licence.
Under the Ozzie cuts, they now also cost 150 quid a year. Kerching!
Iggerance, more like.
The mind boggles – as an Oxford English graduate I don’t expect him necessarily to be able to produce good poetry but I do expect him to hve the literary awareness not to offer such a pile of shite up for public consumption.
(Cue the appearance of Mar k Oaten)
Mr Bryant’ in his undepants needs to give some proper support to Balls.
Looks like someone lifted his shirt.
Frankly I think he looks rather hot. I have a Y-front fetish though.
defrocked C of E priest