Caitlin Moran

You search through Caitlin Moran’s feed for the first tweet you can find containing the word UKIP’. It’s bound to sum things up better than you ever could. It’s bound to be incisive and succinct, perfect for the purposes of winning a dinner party argument, and imbued with that inimitable Caitlin Moran wit.

caitlin“Well actually Dad”, you say tentatively, “Caitlin Moran says that they’re ass-hats”

Dad’s rejoinder is swift. “Caitlin Moran is an ass-hat”

With a heavy heart, you concede that Caitlin Moran is indeed a bit of an ass-hat. How could you forget – you sacked her off on twitter because she was a bit of an ass-hat. Kept tweeting ass-hatty things.

“They’re all ass-hats though really, aren’t they Dad? Politicians, writers, actors. Ass-hats, the lot of them”

Your dad agrees that they are. All ass-hats.

I mean, even Farage. UKIP. Isn’t there a bit of you that just thinks ‘what a bunch of ass-hats’?

Your dad begrudgingly agrees that, at the end of the day, all things considered, they do come across a bit like they have asses for hats. Although you may differ over the nuances of politics, you have at least managed to agree, on this most holy day, one depressing thing:




Written by James Rose

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