Please Don’t Burn Our Shithouse Down: Boggart Blog’s Tribute to Mrs. Thatcher

A song originating from the hardships on the late 19th and early 20th centuries that we used to sing in the playground at school, not understanding the significance at the time (well we got our free milk in the 1950s).

It seemed an appropriate way to remember the havoc caused in industrial areas by the economic and business policies of Margaret Thatcher’s government.

Boggart Blog presents our tribute to Maggie Thatcher, the iron lady.

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Margaret Thatcher Death Latest?

Yeah, the headline is odd. That’s why I looked at the story below it in a national newspaper. The iron lady, whether we loved or hated her is, dead. There can be no latest on the story, she’s dead, kaput, finito benito.

So what’s the point of the story? Are there people out in the big wide world who think Maggie will be resurrected and appear to her disciples before being raised up to heaven on a cloud of middle class aspirations as if she was the second coming of the messiah?

Oh yeah, sorry. There are such people aren’t there. Like the twonk who used to comment on this blog and told me in 2010 that Call Me Dave should step aside and let Mrs Thatcher lead the Tories into the election. He didn’t relent when I pointed out she’d had Alzheimers since 2002.

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Eggbound In Finchley

Some have marvelled at the eggstreme diet that fuelled Margaret Thatcher’s jet propelled march to power in 1979. For myself, thinking about eating all those eggs makes me feel eggceptionaly nauseous. This sensation can best be described as a more intense version of the way I feel whenever I think about Margaret Thatcher. Still I am proved correct about one thing having always imagined the Iron Lady would be surrounded by a sulphurous miasma. It’s clear now this was not the satanic smell of brimstone but the farty smell of someone who lives on eggs.

Strange how those driven to eggcel in their chosen field, while they like to present a public persona of cold logic and superior intellect are all to often proved ready to eggshibit eggcentricities and embrace superstitions and crackpot beliefs it they think it will help them succeed.

We can at least understand one thing about Maggie though. Her bizarre diet eggsplains why she always sounded constipated when speaking.

A million brownie points each for egg jokes and puns in the comment thread