They really are a surprisingly incredibly superstitious bunch, the Tories. With their high priest the deeply magical Davido of Cameroon at the helm, they’ve learned terror of the unknown like never before. And now they’ve got wind of poor helpless animals being slaughtered for thoroughly godly reasons and they’ve got serious willies (that came out completely wrong and yet you know precisely what I mean. They are more than afraid and nothing any of us can say will divert them from their current path of shaking in their not particularly stylish boots). You would think that they’d feel unsettled because it’s something different.
Oh no my friends, it’s much worse than that. The Tories know in their hearts and minds that putting animals to death in order to appease various deities totally freaking works. They’ve done it before and it’s how they almost but not quite won the last election and it’s pretty much all they’ve got on their side as the next one swans into frame with increasing urgency. They’re worried that the Lib Dems or UKIP or, heaven forfend that their worst nightmare would be realised, Labour have found them out and are knifing more impressive livestock so that they get all of the attention from on high.
So what can they do to avert the oncoming storm, the rising apocalypse, the shaky defeat and dethroning that’s threatening to swallow them whole? Probably next to nothing. It’s a shame they can’t be entirely bothered to get off their robe swathed arses in order to do some old fashioned campaigning in order to reassure the general public that they’re not intensely weird and have gone supremely off the rails in a terribly horrific way. I almost feel like I could begin to psyche myself up to feeling mildly sorry for them or at the very least as if I wouldn’t shudder if one of them tried to touch me.