When a bad writer with the IQ of a barnyard fowl runs a blog from his boss the Prime Minister’s office

See below. This is like when Barnyard Fowl Bedingfield flew into a frenzy of excitement because somebody sent him blurred photographs of me getting out of a plane in Berlin in Easter week. He and his barely literate trolls with spent beer-hops for brains shuddered through one conspiracy theory after another because the obvious does not occur to people dumb enough to vote for the Malta Labour Party: that I have sons who live in Berlin – all three of them at one point; two of them when Bedingfield and his dead turkeys thought they’d caught me out on an escapade. And now this toxic stupidity has an official desk at the Prime Minister’s Office.