By Abigail Pennson, our reasonable, plain-speaking middle-class columnist who threw a table through Shoe Zone’s window in spirit
I KNOW I’m not the only one. Across the West, his sexy civil warmongering and daredevil backing of Trump has hordes of women hot for Elon.
Those wonderfully venal, porcine eyes, that slicked-back Wall Street predator hair, that impish sense of humour. But more than that, more even than his money, we’re wet downstairs for his politics.
Unashamedly right-wing? Unafraid to cheer on violence? Sitting up late and dreaming of civil war? To quote Meg Ryan in When Harry Banged Sally, ‘Yes, yes, yes!’
He’s already won himself at least a bout of elevator oral for destroying the ivory tower of liberalism that was Twitter, leaving the left with nowhere to plot the internment and forced transing of every white for race crimes.
Instead it’s become a digital crossroads where the like-minded can meet and plan peaceful protests which only became violent when the woke police provoked them by acting like they were the bad guys.
There is that single flaw. Making money from ripping off the credulous is obviously acceptable – it’s been Trump’s wholly admirable career – but electric cars? Really, Elon, aren’t you too old for toys?
No man with a dick big enough to swing will ever been seen in a milk float, climate change has been categorically disproven by people who aren’t even scientists, and Nikola ‘David Bowie’ Tesla was nothing but a heavily-accented foreigner with unbefittingly large ideas.
Drop the cars. Sell the business to idiots who believe electricity could ever power anything. Spend those billions on Donald’s ascension to president-for-life. Reserve a little slice to foster a UK ethnic conflict that will put the Bosnian War to shame.
Do that and every woman west of Ness Point will be yours for life. Pussy, as they say in the wonderful playground you’ve made of X, in bio.
