A Bunch Of Cox

So the Tories have launched an Olympic Champion into the choppy waters of the election campaign. James Cracknell wades into the culture of non-competitive sport in schools and has us all cheering like it's that Sydney 2000 coxless fours final all over again.

And he is driven. Boy, is he driven ... by a saggy-arsed, weapons grade fuckstick.

I'm not driven by outrage or a belief that I could do better, but by a single issue: the "Obesity Time Bomb" as Sir Liam Donaldson, the Government's chief medical officer for England, described it.

Fuck's sake, James! You're stung into high-powered, arm-pumping action by a wobble-bottomed turd with a track record of alarmist failure?

We're hocked up to our eyeballs after signing up to guaranteed Tamiflu purchase contracts thanks to that rancid turd. His dire forecasts of imminent social collapse, over a virus which turned out to be about as dangerous as chicken pox, have left health authorities trawling for disused aircraft hangars in which to store the bloody stuff.

And you hang on his every word?

With more than a third of 11-year-olds qualifying as obese or overweight, and physical inactivity costing the economy billions of pounds a year, the economy will be hurt and the NHS won't be able to cope.

Did dangle-bellied Liam tell you that, James? Did he? You know, the one who predicted three quarters of a million deaths from Avian Flu? The guy who reacted to the death of absolutely no-one by closing more than 5,000 pubs since 2007? The same Liam who makes Aga Saga Woman seem devil-may-care by comparison?

And, what's more, James, the same Liam Donaldson who is jumping in May before the Tories can push his hideous, interfering, incompetent arse violently out the fucking door if they are elected?

As "efficiency savings" are brought in to try to balance the books, a key area will be hit first – preventative measures.

So they damn well should be. Perry DeHavilland gets a bit wordy in his advice to you about this, James, but please stick with it to the end.

Mind.your.own.business.

All that Tory bollocks yesterday about rolling back the intrusive state has been rendered hollow in a mere 24 hours. Nanny hasn't gone away, she's still here and is wielding a great big, Gold medal decorated paddle.

Still. Perry does also point out that we have to be grateful to James for refocussing our minds after yesterday's glimmer of hope; for illustrating why the Tories simply aren't the answer.

[...] we can thank athlete James Cracknell for giving us a superb example of why it does not matter a tinker's damn which of the three clowns actually ends up in Downing Street.

Quite.

Remember. Anyone but the big three on Thursday (except if you live in Shipley). Giving them your vote just encourages this shit.