Rising Fury of the Northern Powerhouse

It’s always the way. You take your eye off the counties above Watford Gap for as much as two minutes and you’ll find yourself with a rebellion on your hands. Yes you do. As soon as someone thinks they can get away with whatever it is that they deep down want to do they’ll start indulging in several different varieties of thoroughly depraved behaviour. Not that we’re judging or anything. Was that coming across as just a smidge judgemental? Oh very dear indeed.

The fury of the Northern Powerhouse is rising and the common folk ought to be really very afraid. When such types band together in their disgruntlement the oncoming onslaught that results is downright disturbing. It rolls inexorably onwards, crushing absolutely everything in its path so should you have the fortune to see it coming, I suggest to leap out of the way sharpish.

At this point you’ve probably started somewhere along the track of wondering precisely what it might be that’s got the collective knickers of the northerners in quite so much of a twist? Has Westminster done something so stereotypically London centric that the camel’s back has finally collapsed into a spasming and shattered mess? Did some bright spark make one too many jokes about deep fried foods or whatever it is they devour up there? Who can tell? Perhaps there was simply a general feeling that no one was paying enough attention and they wanted to do something about it.

Whatever might have occurred in the past it’s clear that now is the moment for serious appeasement. Someone sufficiently senior had better get down on their knees in front of the braying mob and pray for forgiveness. Then all must have cake and other forms of treats so that they’ll never so much as dream of misbehaving again. Until something else rubs them up the wrong way and the ire of the Northern Powerhouse is stirred once again.

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