Come, infernal, celestial and terrestrial Goddess. I give over to you the head of Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson, his breast, liver, heart, and lungs, so that he may not be able to discover the source of his pain; his intestines, stomach, navel, and sides, so that he may not be able to sleep; his shoulder blades, so that he may not be able to sleep soundly; his “sacred organ,” so that he may not be able to urinate; his rump, anus, thighs, knees, shanks, shins, feet, ankles, heels, toes, and toenails, so that he may not be able to stand by his own strength. No matter what he may have written, great or small, his lies multiply his ills. Let him perish miserably. Let him leave life miserably. Let him be destroyed miserably. Take care of him so that he may not see another month.
Have a soundtrack:
Source of the spell
"Labels: Turds" says it all.
ReplyDeleteThat it does, Mistress.
DeleteI cannot help. I made a promise. No one asks for my help unless they sincerely want someone's breathe of life stolen. I am a large cat after all.
ReplyDeleteOh that's no problem at all. These old curses are rather blood curdling. I think at this point the government is either going to keep him for now and use him as the whipping boy for our ridiculous inflation, or possibly collapse completely, judging by the reports of threats going on....
DeleteShall I meet you in Canada then? We'll all go join the Mistress in her province and build one big nature-filled gay-friendly commune! :)
ReplyDeleteHooray! Canada is somewhere I would definitely go and live although I doubt they'd have me! I'm hoping Scotland will become independent and rejoin the EU although I hope they're ready for English asylum seekers who are starving and with dysentery....
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