On Dorries

Somewhere in the deepest recesses of the cellars of the House of Commons, Nadine Dorries sits hunched over her precious and mumbling to herself about the dreadful iniquities visited on her by those those nasssty twittering leftisssts…

Back in the real, the eminent moral philosopher Harry G Frankfurt provides the clearest possible explanation of the MP for Mid-Narnia’s unmatched talent for provoking the most visceral loathing evey time she opens her mouth in public:

It is impossible for someone to lie unless he thinks he knows the truth. Producing bullshit requires no such conviction. A person who lies is thereby responding to the truth, and he is to that extent respectful of it. When an honest man speaks, he says only what he believes to be true; and for the liar, it is correspondingly indispensable that he considers his statements to be false. For the bullshitter, however, all these bets are off: he is neither on the side of the true nor on the side of the false. His eye is not on the facts at all, as the eyes of the honest man and of the liar are, except insofar as they may be pertinent to his interest in getting away with what he says. He does not care whether the things he says describe reality correctly. He just picks them out, or makes them up, to suit his purpose.

It’s not misogyny and it’s not even politics. It’s because we’re all sick to the back teeth with the incessant stream of bullshit that emanates uncontrollably from Nadine Dorries’ oral cavity.

In short, Dorries would not understand the meaning of truth if you were to emboss the dictionary definition of the word on a basebat bat and pound her purpling flesh with it until it split like an overripe melon.

Everyone hates a bullshitter. It’s as simple as that.