Variety is the spice of life...
... my cushioned little diplomatic arse.
Five black beemers, full of pompous wankers... (There were a lot more, that's as many as I could fit in the one shot).
Same cars, same CD plates, same suits, same bored-looking chauffeurs, same waste of space...
I mean, in the era of the Trumpet or Boris Johnson, is there really any justification for diplomatic expenses?
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