This for-the-want-of-a-better-word cartoon appears in today's Guardian.
Unfortunately, CF is a little hungover this morning (drunken dinner with a confused Lib Dem PPC, an eeevil Banker and a millionaire property developer - but that's another story) and clearly the old brain cells are firing slowly.
Could somebody please, please explain - in less than one hundred words - exactly what the flying fuck the cartoonist is on about?
It's like looking at one of those 19th century cartoons from a GCSE History textbook.
What is the point he's trying to make? Is this funny? What the fuck?