Friday, 25 September 2009

Have I Got Propaganda For You

"I wish [the BBC] would go and actively look for some Conservatives to be part of their newsgathering team." - Jeremy Hunt (shadow culture secretary)

(Frightening music and huge images of Josef Stalin, Pol Pot, Kim Jong-Il, Arthur Scargill and other murdering socialist bastards intercut with piles of skulls, weeping children, unburied bodies piled up in streets.)

Baroness Thatcher:
This is the six o'clock news from the completely impartial Conservative Broadcasting Corporation.

(Brief burst of Hallelujah chorus.)

Thatcher: Ageism and rampant Leninism in the newsrooms abolished forever, says new director-general Sir Frederick Shred; Conservative scientists in Thailand make AIDS vaccine breakthrough; Tories find water on moon; exquisitely-tailored Spandau Ballet pave way for welcome return of yuppie culture.

Lord Tebbit: Good evening, scum. You're watching Conservative Party news, and don't even think about changing channels or you'll regret it. Today's main story: the entire BBC Trust has resigned in disgrace after admitting it was totally wrong to discriminate against newsreaders on the basis of age, sex or barmy right-wing views. To loud cheers from political editor Nick Robinson, the exposed communist cell was driven off to Belmarsh high-security prison to await their trial for treason. Conservative leader David Cameron (Hallelujah chorus) moved swiftly to appoint a new Board of Directors, all of whom have impeccable backgrounds in the banking and asset-stripping sectors.

Talking-head clip. (Caption: New Director-General Sir Frederick Shred)

Shred: I promise to deliver better value by abolishing the licence fee and programme-making, and making the corporation reflect the composition of its audience by showing its entire back catalogue of old football games 24 hours a day, with Bruce Forsyth and St Jeremy Clarkson inviting you to vote for your all-time favourite football match while the adverts are on.

Tebbit: And shortly after that piece was recorded, that sakcastic little trot Paxman was taken outside and shot.

Thatcher: Foreign news - and compassionate, caring Conservative scientists in Thailand have made medical history by injecting monstrous ladyboy abominations with a lethal cocktail of industrial cleaning chemicals until they stopped dying of AIDS. Over to our travel correspondent, William Hague, who chartered a jumbo jet so he could read out this press release from a beach on the other side of the world.

Hague (lying beside an azure-blue sea, with a peasant in a skimpy bikini rubbing suncream into his thighs): Aye, milady, 'appen as Britain's 'ard-workin' captains of industry will be able to spend the fruits o' their labours on a relaxin' 'oliday in Phuket, wi'out vomitin' in 'orror when they gets back to them's 'otel rooms and discover that them two sloe-eyed, slinky bints what them's been plyin' wi' drinks for the last hour 'ave 'orrible 'airy cocks 'idden away in them's bikini bottoms. (to peasant) Er... ta very much 'Sally', lass, that'll be all. Back t'you in t'studio, me inspirational anchor.

Thatcher:
Thank you, William. It is hoped that the revolutionary new treatment will soon be extended to filthy shirt-lifting perverts in the UK.

Tebbit: In an exciting breakthrough, a silent majority of right-thinking space probes have discovered traces of water on the moon, leading to hopes that mankind may soon be able to establish a permanent presence on the earth's distant satellite. It turns out that the moon is so abundantly moist that a ton of lunar soil, if compacted to the size of a housebrick, may yield a small jug of water. The Tory Space Agency said it was already drawing up plans for a moonbase, to be permanently manned by the Labour Party.

Thatcher: Finally, it's a welcome return to the glorious 80s as Spandau Ballet dust off their shoulder pads, don their sharp, hand-tailored suits and release their comeback single, "It's OK To Be A Self-Centred, Soul-Crushing Creep". George Osborne, our youth correspondent, reports.

Osborne: Yes, my liege, power-dressing is set to make a welcome return to the worlds of fashion and youth culture - along with rapacious greed, undisguised contempt for the poor and an impervious feeling of supreme smugness. Back to you, mein führer.

Thatcher: Thank you, little man. Happy days are here again. And now here's the Conservative weather, which will be glorious uninterrupted sunshine for the next thousand years with no trace of red clouds.

(Television explodes due to massive lightning strike.)

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