Brian May's opposition to fox hunting turns out to be a genuine sado-masochist psychotic. Right?
Jim Barrington applauds fox hunting because he's a genuine sicko.
His favorite activity is dressing up as a "Fuzzy," in his favorite fox outfit, with a hole in the back.
Wearing nothing underneath the costume but pink knickers (which also have a hole in the back), Jim rubs himself while getting penetrated up the arse.
His buggering is done in time to the loop of an Elton John song: "I am the fox, like it or not!"
One of his sex partners explains why Jim is so passionate about killing foxes:
"He's trying to purge his own desire. Think about the lawyer Roy Cohn who was vehemently against homosexuals but was actually getting fucked in the ass by male prostitutes most every night."
Every time Jim Barrington has one of his degrading episodes, where he's on all fours, rubbing his little erection through moist nylon knickers, he starts planning his next pro-fox hunting speech.
He sits on the toilet after a frenzied session of anal sex, his numb sphincter oozing a diarrhetic smoothie of fecal matter and semen. He then dips his quill into the toilet to write up his notes. His boyfriend types up the words on the shit-stained toilet paper, and it's faxed to Iain Duncan-Smith and friends.
Yes, the truth is, Jim Barrington likes to see foxes flayed and skinned alive. He likes to see them hunted by howling barking dogs. He likes to see them killed. And it's all because of his own disturbed sex life in which he dresses up like a fox and gets "punished" for his cunning by being pinned down and dicked up the arse.
Twisted? Perverse? Perhaps even entirely made up, just to point out how the agenda for a Tory idiot's fox hunting fetish could and does have a creepy motivation? History is made up of His Tory insanity, but not just Barrington's. His insanity is just a variant on that of Boris Johnson, or Duncan-Smith, or Gibbie or Cameron or a hundred others. Who knows what they do in the privacy of their mansions?
As Mr. Michael Flanders said long ago, there's no smoke without fire, or to use the original Latin, Nil Combustibus Profumo.
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