The US government says it will boycott April's UN conference on racism in Geneva, because somebody might say something uncomplimentary about its very good friend and customer, Israel.
The rest of the world responded by asking America if it could suggest a more glaring example of an ethnically-divided society in today's world, in which members of one race pitilessly inflict a brutal, punitive grip on those with the misfortune to be born into a different ethnic group, whilst themselves enjoying the lavish fruits of a luxurious, privileged lifestyle.
Members of America's ethnic minorities living in crime-ridden slums, trapped hopelessly in minimum-wage jobs, languishing in overcrowded prisons or dying painfully from life-threatening ailments because they are unable to pay for treatment were left scratching their heads for an answer. After some hesitation, though, they told reporters they were proud to be Americans in a new era of equality and opportunity where a black man has finally made it all the way to the White House, before walking away frowning and stroking their chins.
Saturday 28 February 2009
Nev Filter Surprisingly Not Listed for Orwell Prize
Journalists, politicians and web-browsing slackers all over the country were shaking their heads in shocked disbelief today, after the newly-released longlist for the first ever Orwell Prize to be awarded for political blogging failed to mention the Nev Filter.
"The Nev Filter wasn't included?" said Alan Rusbridger - editor of the Guardian, whose Political Blog is on the list. "What is it? Something to do with coffee?"
Paul Mason, economics editor on Newsnight - whose blog, Idle Scrawl, is also longlisted - was also at a loss to explain why a blog that nobody in Islington has ever heard of had failed to make it onto the list.
And Labour MP Tom Harris, whose personal blog And Another Thing... has been nominated, has not even bothered to reply to the Nev Filter's increasingly bitter and abusive requests for a comment.
However, Shane Greer, editor of Total Politics magazine, said that political blogs generally fell into four categories: 'attack blogs' like Devil's Kitchen, which fight tenaciously for a particular political view; technical blogs such as Burning Our Money, which provide detailed analysis of a particular issue; general-audience blogs which function like the comment pages in newspapers, and provide a forum for public debate; and, finally, a huge number of what he called "truly awful" blogs.
"You have to bear in mind that there are thousands and thousands of blogs of a very low quality," he pointed out.
The Nev Filter's editor, reporter, columnist, researcher and stunning Page 3 model, Nev, briefly stopped throwing his toys out of the pram for just long enough to say that even if his blog did belong firmly in the latter category, he felt that its outstandingly low quality enabled it to stand head and shoulders above the competition. He then spent the rest of the day shouting "fuck" and scrawling 'BASTARD' across every page of his copy of Keep The Aspidistra Flying.
"The Nev Filter wasn't included?" said Alan Rusbridger - editor of the Guardian, whose Political Blog is on the list. "What is it? Something to do with coffee?"
Paul Mason, economics editor on Newsnight - whose blog, Idle Scrawl, is also longlisted - was also at a loss to explain why a blog that nobody in Islington has ever heard of had failed to make it onto the list.
And Labour MP Tom Harris, whose personal blog And Another Thing... has been nominated, has not even bothered to reply to the Nev Filter's increasingly bitter and abusive requests for a comment.
However, Shane Greer, editor of Total Politics magazine, said that political blogs generally fell into four categories: 'attack blogs' like Devil's Kitchen, which fight tenaciously for a particular political view; technical blogs such as Burning Our Money, which provide detailed analysis of a particular issue; general-audience blogs which function like the comment pages in newspapers, and provide a forum for public debate; and, finally, a huge number of what he called "truly awful" blogs.
"You have to bear in mind that there are thousands and thousands of blogs of a very low quality," he pointed out.
The Nev Filter's editor, reporter, columnist, researcher and stunning Page 3 model, Nev, briefly stopped throwing his toys out of the pram for just long enough to say that even if his blog did belong firmly in the latter category, he felt that its outstandingly low quality enabled it to stand head and shoulders above the competition. He then spent the rest of the day shouting "fuck" and scrawling 'BASTARD' across every page of his copy of Keep The Aspidistra Flying.
Friday 27 February 2009
Government Legally Unable to Force £16m From Shameless Banker, But Perfectly Able To Force £16 From Blameless Paupers
Sir Fred Hugewin, the ex-chief of the Royal Black Hole of Scotland, has told the government to go piss up a rope if it thinks he is going to hand over a single penny of his £693,000-a-year pension, saying the arrangement was all set out in his contract and, with so many lawyers on the government benches, they bloody well ought to have checked the small print before signing it.
He set out his views in a letter to Alastair Darling, in which he told the Chancellor of the Exchequer: "Fuck off, you caterpillar-faced grey freak. And tell Lord Mynah-Bird, or whatever the fuck his stupid name is, he can fuck off too. And as for Gordon Brown - the miserable, whey-faced fucker can fuck off, run the fuck back and fuck right off again, and he can fucking keep going until he falls off the edge of the fucking world. Speaking of which, I'm fucking off to Hawaii with my fucking surfboard, where I shall be snorting prime Colombian fucking cocaine off the breasts of the finest fucking whores that money can fucking buy. If you need to reach me, the direct number to the Presidential Suite at the Hilton is 1-800-FUCK-OFF. Got that? Good."
On hearing Sir Fred's robust reply, a furious Prime Minister is reported to have hit the hapless Chancellor repeatedly with a rolled-up newspaper, until the Law Lords brought the good news that, since he cannot persuade the failed banker to hand over his $16m pension fund, he is now allowed to simply wrench money from the desperately poor by ruthlessly dragging innocent, struggling benefit recipients through the courts in a mean-spirited effort to claw back any bungled overpayments - no matter how insignificant - made in error by the chaotically inept Department for Work and Pensions.
He set out his views in a letter to Alastair Darling, in which he told the Chancellor of the Exchequer: "Fuck off, you caterpillar-faced grey freak. And tell Lord Mynah-Bird, or whatever the fuck his stupid name is, he can fuck off too. And as for Gordon Brown - the miserable, whey-faced fucker can fuck off, run the fuck back and fuck right off again, and he can fucking keep going until he falls off the edge of the fucking world. Speaking of which, I'm fucking off to Hawaii with my fucking surfboard, where I shall be snorting prime Colombian fucking cocaine off the breasts of the finest fucking whores that money can fucking buy. If you need to reach me, the direct number to the Presidential Suite at the Hilton is 1-800-FUCK-OFF. Got that? Good."
On hearing Sir Fred's robust reply, a furious Prime Minister is reported to have hit the hapless Chancellor repeatedly with a rolled-up newspaper, until the Law Lords brought the good news that, since he cannot persuade the failed banker to hand over his $16m pension fund, he is now allowed to simply wrench money from the desperately poor by ruthlessly dragging innocent, struggling benefit recipients through the courts in a mean-spirited effort to claw back any bungled overpayments - no matter how insignificant - made in error by the chaotically inept Department for Work and Pensions.
Why Not Take A Dump In The Aisle, Suggests Ryanair
Budget airline Uryanair has proposed charging passengers a pound to use the lavatory on its flights, as part of a wide-ranging scheme to fool its simple-minded passengers with even cheaper 'fares' and then sting them with exorbitant charges for everything they need.
The airline has already suggested charging people for checking in at the airport, saying that passengers wishing to avoid paying the additional fee are perfectly at liberty to risk being blasted to extinction by trigger-happy airport police, as they try to scramble over the airport boundary fence and run across the runway to their plane as it waits for clearance to take off.
PR chief Steven McNamara said that Uryanair had previously looked into the possibility of putting a coin slot on the toilet door, and was now investigating the idea again. The airline's fleet would also have the carpets removed, he explained, otherwise the overwhelming stench of accumulated bodily waste would almost certainly drive gagging passengers to kick out the windows at 35,000 feet, with predictably catastrophic consequences.
"Many of our passengers are unfamiliar with the concept of a lavatory anyway," said Mr McNamara. "Uryanair tends to attract barely-sentient lowlifes from the dregs of humanity, who feel no embarrassment at all in dropping their pants and evacuating their stinking bowels in full view of the public."
"So if the pilot and cabin crew are behaving like that, there's no reason to think the passengers won't do the same," he added.
The airline has already suggested charging people for checking in at the airport, saying that passengers wishing to avoid paying the additional fee are perfectly at liberty to risk being blasted to extinction by trigger-happy airport police, as they try to scramble over the airport boundary fence and run across the runway to their plane as it waits for clearance to take off.
PR chief Steven McNamara said that Uryanair had previously looked into the possibility of putting a coin slot on the toilet door, and was now investigating the idea again. The airline's fleet would also have the carpets removed, he explained, otherwise the overwhelming stench of accumulated bodily waste would almost certainly drive gagging passengers to kick out the windows at 35,000 feet, with predictably catastrophic consequences.
"Many of our passengers are unfamiliar with the concept of a lavatory anyway," said Mr McNamara. "Uryanair tends to attract barely-sentient lowlifes from the dregs of humanity, who feel no embarrassment at all in dropping their pants and evacuating their stinking bowels in full view of the public."
"So if the pilot and cabin crew are behaving like that, there's no reason to think the passengers won't do the same," he added.
Thursday 26 February 2009
Super-Dense Royal Bank of Scotland Becomes Black Hole
Astronomers from the Royal Observatory reported this morning that the Royal Bank of Scotland has collapsed in on itself due to its own overwhelming density, forming a black hole that threatens to consume all of the world's money.
Scientists watched the star performer in the banking firmament turn into a red dwarf last year; but the sheer mass of accumulated debt finally compressed RBS into a singularity this morning, swallowing all of the profits it ever made and dragging another £24bn across its event horizon.
The unescapable pull of its gravity well is certain to suck in all of the money in this corner of the galaxy, say experts.
Science has no firm answer for what happens inside a black hole, although mathematicians have theorised that they may in fact form 'wormholes' in the fabric of space itself - suggesting the possibility of instantaneous travel from one place to another.
Now, for the first time, their claims would appear to be backed up by concrete evidence, as quantities of money are suddenly beginning to appear in the pockets of its former chief executive, Sir Fred Goodwin, at the prodigious rate of £74 per hour.
"We know that the unimaginable forces of gravity that exist within a black hole compress matter to the tiniest fraction of its former size," explained a man with thick glasses. "What seems to be happening here is that massive billions of pounds are being squeezed into a comparatively small lump known as a 'pension'. Where do the excess pounds go? Nobody knows, because neither energy nor matter can escape from a black hole - and, as you would expect, the phenomenally dense Royal Bank of Scotland is certainly not shedding any light on this matter."
However, a researcher who saw an old Disney film thinks that a satanic red robot called Maximilian may actually live inside the black hole, cruelly shredding cash with his hellishly-sharp magimix-style hands for all eternity.
Scientists watched the star performer in the banking firmament turn into a red dwarf last year; but the sheer mass of accumulated debt finally compressed RBS into a singularity this morning, swallowing all of the profits it ever made and dragging another £24bn across its event horizon.
The unescapable pull of its gravity well is certain to suck in all of the money in this corner of the galaxy, say experts.
Science has no firm answer for what happens inside a black hole, although mathematicians have theorised that they may in fact form 'wormholes' in the fabric of space itself - suggesting the possibility of instantaneous travel from one place to another.
Now, for the first time, their claims would appear to be backed up by concrete evidence, as quantities of money are suddenly beginning to appear in the pockets of its former chief executive, Sir Fred Goodwin, at the prodigious rate of £74 per hour.
"We know that the unimaginable forces of gravity that exist within a black hole compress matter to the tiniest fraction of its former size," explained a man with thick glasses. "What seems to be happening here is that massive billions of pounds are being squeezed into a comparatively small lump known as a 'pension'. Where do the excess pounds go? Nobody knows, because neither energy nor matter can escape from a black hole - and, as you would expect, the phenomenally dense Royal Bank of Scotland is certainly not shedding any light on this matter."
However, a researcher who saw an old Disney film thinks that a satanic red robot called Maximilian may actually live inside the black hole, cruelly shredding cash with his hellishly-sharp magimix-style hands for all eternity.
Ye Olde Edgy NME Awards Celebrate Rebirth of British Musical Talent
The stars of popular music and culture were out in force for the freshly-reinvented, cutting-edge NME Awards ceremony, held at the Globe Theatre last night.
The coveted Best Band title went to Britpop stalwarts Gilbert and Sullivan, who were sadly unable to attend the star-studded gala in person as they were currently working hard on being dead. A medium gave fans a graphic description of them receiving their award in the afterlife from Russell Brand, who was killed especially for the occasion.
However, the pair controversially lost out in the Hero of the Year category, which was won by US President Abraham Lincoln for his abolition of slavery - despite claims from some quarters that he shamelessly stole the idea from British experimentalists.
The duo's longstanding rivals, Flanagan and Allen, then presented a surprise to guests at the event by appearing on stage for the first time since they died, to deliver a barnstorming performance of their classic hit, 'Run Rabbit Run'.
Later in the evening, the Sexiest Male award went to long-dead bandleader Ted Heath - who, with His Orchestra, also won Best Live Band for the second year running, thanks to their clever fusion of elements of Dixieland jazz and swing into a dancefloor-friendly 'Big Band' sound.
The coveted award for Godlike Genius went to an ancient order of cowled monks, who have been steadily wowing generations of teenagers with their combination of in-your-face plainsong, epic polyphonic chants of Latin prayer and lusty renditions of 'Sumer Is Ycumen In' since the 13th century.
Finally, Villain of the Year - for the 1009th year in succession - was Satan, whose unholy works are, alas, still troubling the faithful even today.
The ceremony, hosted by edgy young comedian Geoffrey Chaucer, will be broadcast on Channel 4 when television is invented.
The coveted Best Band title went to Britpop stalwarts Gilbert and Sullivan, who were sadly unable to attend the star-studded gala in person as they were currently working hard on being dead. A medium gave fans a graphic description of them receiving their award in the afterlife from Russell Brand, who was killed especially for the occasion.
However, the pair controversially lost out in the Hero of the Year category, which was won by US President Abraham Lincoln for his abolition of slavery - despite claims from some quarters that he shamelessly stole the idea from British experimentalists.
The duo's longstanding rivals, Flanagan and Allen, then presented a surprise to guests at the event by appearing on stage for the first time since they died, to deliver a barnstorming performance of their classic hit, 'Run Rabbit Run'.
Later in the evening, the Sexiest Male award went to long-dead bandleader Ted Heath - who, with His Orchestra, also won Best Live Band for the second year running, thanks to their clever fusion of elements of Dixieland jazz and swing into a dancefloor-friendly 'Big Band' sound.
The coveted award for Godlike Genius went to an ancient order of cowled monks, who have been steadily wowing generations of teenagers with their combination of in-your-face plainsong, epic polyphonic chants of Latin prayer and lusty renditions of 'Sumer Is Ycumen In' since the 13th century.
Finally, Villain of the Year - for the 1009th year in succession - was Satan, whose unholy works are, alas, still troubling the faithful even today.
The ceremony, hosted by edgy young comedian Geoffrey Chaucer, will be broadcast on Channel 4 when television is invented.
Wednesday 25 February 2009
Holocaust-Denying Bishop Abducted At Gunpoint By Representatives of Poetic Justice
Concern is growing over the whereabouts of the persecuted Richard Williamson, the Holocaust-denying Roman Catholic bishop expelled from Argentina, after he was bundled into a car by armed police as soon as he set foot back in Britain.
The Pope recently lifted the bigoted bishop's excommunication for his ordination in an ultra-traditionalist breakaway faction of the Roman Catholic church - leading to a huge embarrassment for the pontiff when the bishop's controversial views were revealed.
Mystery now surrounds Bishop Williamson's whereabouts, and there has been no word from the government or the police as to why he was taken into custody on arrival in the UK.
Other deranged bigots in the UK - including large contingents from the construction and power industries, and the editorial staff of several daily newspapers - are reported to have gone into hiding, fearing for their lives.
"There's an appalling historical precedent for this kind of heavy-handed state repression against freedom of speech," said BNP councillor Paul Golding, who was recently elected to Sevenoaks council, from his secret attic hiding-place. "Although, strangely, I can't for the life of me think of it right now."
The Pope recently lifted the bigoted bishop's excommunication for his ordination in an ultra-traditionalist breakaway faction of the Roman Catholic church - leading to a huge embarrassment for the pontiff when the bishop's controversial views were revealed.
Mystery now surrounds Bishop Williamson's whereabouts, and there has been no word from the government or the police as to why he was taken into custody on arrival in the UK.
Other deranged bigots in the UK - including large contingents from the construction and power industries, and the editorial staff of several daily newspapers - are reported to have gone into hiding, fearing for their lives.
"There's an appalling historical precedent for this kind of heavy-handed state repression against freedom of speech," said BNP councillor Paul Golding, who was recently elected to Sevenoaks council, from his secret attic hiding-place. "Although, strangely, I can't for the life of me think of it right now."
Experts Downgrade Your Life Expectancy To Yesterday
Not only are you going to die, warned experts today, but you are in fact almost certainly dead already, thanks to your morbidly suicidal lifestyle.
"Being overweight - by which we mean that your weight divided by the square of your height is greater than 1 if you are male, or 0.8 if you are female, unless there's an R in the month, as calculated by those infallible medical geniuses, the Victorians - is as bad for you as smoking up to ten fags a day," warned the British Medical Journal. "And any idiot who puffs away at that sort of deathwish speed will have no lungs left by the age of 23. Fact."
Smug lettuce-munching beanpoles who think they are safe may have to think again, however, as Cancer Research UK warns that a single glass of wine, half-pint of home-brew or sip of Night Nurse will definitely reduce you to a hideous malignant tumour on legs by Christmas.
The latest health advice follows other dire pronouncements on your failing health. The American Journal of Epidemiology, for example, recently confirmed that working just one hour's overtime will send you senile or just downright mad as a box of frogs before you get home tonight, while researchers from Pittsburgh University found that listening to explicit song lyrics is a leading cause of fatal cock rot in the under-12s.
"Basically, you're all dead," confirmed a typically sanctimonious doctor on £135,000 a year. "And it serves you right, you disgusting prole. Now get the fuck out of my surgery, I've got an urgent appointment at the golf course."
"Being overweight - by which we mean that your weight divided by the square of your height is greater than 1 if you are male, or 0.8 if you are female, unless there's an R in the month, as calculated by those infallible medical geniuses, the Victorians - is as bad for you as smoking up to ten fags a day," warned the British Medical Journal. "And any idiot who puffs away at that sort of deathwish speed will have no lungs left by the age of 23. Fact."
Smug lettuce-munching beanpoles who think they are safe may have to think again, however, as Cancer Research UK warns that a single glass of wine, half-pint of home-brew or sip of Night Nurse will definitely reduce you to a hideous malignant tumour on legs by Christmas.
The latest health advice follows other dire pronouncements on your failing health. The American Journal of Epidemiology, for example, recently confirmed that working just one hour's overtime will send you senile or just downright mad as a box of frogs before you get home tonight, while researchers from Pittsburgh University found that listening to explicit song lyrics is a leading cause of fatal cock rot in the under-12s.
"Basically, you're all dead," confirmed a typically sanctimonious doctor on £135,000 a year. "And it serves you right, you disgusting prole. Now get the fuck out of my surgery, I've got an urgent appointment at the golf course."
Tuesday 24 February 2009
'If We Told Britain The Truth, Your Heads Would Explode,' Warns Straw
If the minutes of Cabinet meetings held prior to the invasion of Iraq in 2003 were to be made public, then the British Isles would undoubtedly crumble into dust in an instant, warned the Justice Secretary, Jack Straw.
The Information Tribunal ruled last month that the details of ministerial discussions should be published, with what it called "exceptional" public interest outweighing any concerns the government may have about confidentiality. The ruling upheld a previous call from the Information Commissioner to publish the minutes under the Freedom of Information Act.
However, Mr Straw said that doing so would risk "serious damage to Cabinet government", which he called "an essential principle of British democracy", and announced that, for the first time, the government was using the ministerial veto.
When asked by reporters whether he was not, in effect, claiming that cover-ups and unaccountability were in some way to be regarded as the core values of open, democratic governance, Mr Straw theatrically looked at his watch and dived head-first down a rabbit-hole.
Unfortunately, the minister's great big stupid head became firmly wedged in the hole, preventing his escape. Political hacks were quick to remove his shoes and socks, and after tickling his feet for several minutes they elicited a muffled admission from Mr Straw that what he really meant was that if the minutes should ever be released, the public might jump to the erroneous conclusion - based on the over-simplistic method of reading the words - that Tony Blair simply told a servile bunch of toadying creeps that he was going to cover himself in glory in a quick, easy war, and they fell over themselves in the rush to kiss his arse.
The Information Tribunal ruled last month that the details of ministerial discussions should be published, with what it called "exceptional" public interest outweighing any concerns the government may have about confidentiality. The ruling upheld a previous call from the Information Commissioner to publish the minutes under the Freedom of Information Act.
However, Mr Straw said that doing so would risk "serious damage to Cabinet government", which he called "an essential principle of British democracy", and announced that, for the first time, the government was using the ministerial veto.
When asked by reporters whether he was not, in effect, claiming that cover-ups and unaccountability were in some way to be regarded as the core values of open, democratic governance, Mr Straw theatrically looked at his watch and dived head-first down a rabbit-hole.
Unfortunately, the minister's great big stupid head became firmly wedged in the hole, preventing his escape. Political hacks were quick to remove his shoes and socks, and after tickling his feet for several minutes they elicited a muffled admission from Mr Straw that what he really meant was that if the minutes should ever be released, the public might jump to the erroneous conclusion - based on the over-simplistic method of reading the words - that Tony Blair simply told a servile bunch of toadying creeps that he was going to cover himself in glory in a quick, easy war, and they fell over themselves in the rush to kiss his arse.
'LDV Would Probably Only Spend Money on Alcohol or Drugs,' Says Mandelson
The government has refused a request from the collapsing van manufacturer LDV for the loan of a fiver till Friday, announced Lord Mandelson today.
"LDV, as you know, is owned by my very good boating chum, Oleg Deripaska," pointed out the Business Secretary, "And even if I were to reach into my pocket and find a crisp new five pound note - and I don't generally carry cash, it's quite, quite vulgar and I much prefer to use somebody else's - then I would immediately come under a scandalous attack from the gutter press for being biased towards my billionaire friends. I have to think of my spotless reputation for honesty, you know - very important."
The LDV management are optimistically turning out their pockets for loose change to see if they have enough coppers between them to buy the company. However, they said that, realistically, their best hope of saving the company now lay in sitting outside the headquarters of Lloyds TSB and Royal Bank of Scotland under a newspaper, on the off-chance that a banker hurrying to the nearest four-star restaurant might accidentally drop a little of the £500bn of taxpayers' money which the government has kindly handed to them by guaranteeing to underwrite their monumentally wrong-headed investments in various kinds of rubbish, in the vague hope that they might actually grant somebody a mortgage this year.
"LDV, as you know, is owned by my very good boating chum, Oleg Deripaska," pointed out the Business Secretary, "And even if I were to reach into my pocket and find a crisp new five pound note - and I don't generally carry cash, it's quite, quite vulgar and I much prefer to use somebody else's - then I would immediately come under a scandalous attack from the gutter press for being biased towards my billionaire friends. I have to think of my spotless reputation for honesty, you know - very important."
The LDV management are optimistically turning out their pockets for loose change to see if they have enough coppers between them to buy the company. However, they said that, realistically, their best hope of saving the company now lay in sitting outside the headquarters of Lloyds TSB and Royal Bank of Scotland under a newspaper, on the off-chance that a banker hurrying to the nearest four-star restaurant might accidentally drop a little of the £500bn of taxpayers' money which the government has kindly handed to them by guaranteeing to underwrite their monumentally wrong-headed investments in various kinds of rubbish, in the vague hope that they might actually grant somebody a mortgage this year.
Monday 23 February 2009
British Civil War Now Inevitable
Most of the population of the UK is fully expecting bloody civil war to break out across the recession-ravaged nation this summer - probably on a Tuesday, late in the morning or possibly just after lunch - according to a YouGov poll.
"They'll probably have to send in the RAF to shove bloody great fuel/air bombs out of the back of a Hercules onto every inner-city slum in Britain, I'd imagine," said one respondent who should have been busy writing a feasibility study for his boss. " I saw that on Virgin One at four in the morning when I got home pissed last Saturday. Fucking amazing! And there'll definitely be battalions of paras dropping out of helicopters and vaporising chavs with anti-tank missiles. Oh, please God, let it happen."
Another online voter posted a note saying: "If the BEST ARMY IN THE WORLD is called out to SHOOT all them JOB GRABING, COUNSEL HOUSE THEAVING, BENEFIT-WASTING FORINGERS on sight, then im voluntearing my services FREE as an imigrant spoter!!!" 4 of his friends commented that they liked this.
However, the Metropolitan Police painted a very different picture today, as Gauleiterintendant David Hartbeat of the force's New Public Order Branch explained how, even as he spoke, the rogue states of North Korea and Iran were secretly supplying huge quantities of arms, intelligence and funding to a murderous hardcore legion of Socialist Worker shock-troops and death-or-glory anarchists, who were likely to mount a devastating scorched-earth blitzkrieg on your front door next Friday.
"Look at the mass protests on the streets that are devastating Europe's cities right now," he warned. "Already, in our glorious nation of innocent dances round the maypole and the tranquil knock of leather against willow on the village green, the mass-murdering demagogues of the Transport and Salaried Staffs' Association are mustering their doctrine-addled cadres for a pre-emptive rail strike - and that's just the first clarion call to arms for the dreaded troublemaker rebellion."
"I say this to those head-in-the-sand types who say 'it couldn't happen here'," he went on, his voice rising in pitch and volume. "We know where you Guardian-reading intellectuals live and we will not hesitate to stop you from spreading your vile message of reasonable behaviour. We're armed to the teeth with tasers, Heckler & Koch assault rifles, American-style nightsticks and all kinds of noxious sprays to make you puke your organs out - and we're just itching to using them. So you lefty liberal bastards better shut the fuck up, stay indoors with your collection of hand-knitted Andean tank-tops and let the wave of anarchy break itself on Britain's thick blue line! We happy few! We band of brothers!"
"Mind how you go now, sir, " he added.
"They'll probably have to send in the RAF to shove bloody great fuel/air bombs out of the back of a Hercules onto every inner-city slum in Britain, I'd imagine," said one respondent who should have been busy writing a feasibility study for his boss. " I saw that on Virgin One at four in the morning when I got home pissed last Saturday. Fucking amazing! And there'll definitely be battalions of paras dropping out of helicopters and vaporising chavs with anti-tank missiles. Oh, please God, let it happen."
Another online voter posted a note saying: "If the BEST ARMY IN THE WORLD is called out to SHOOT all them JOB GRABING, COUNSEL HOUSE THEAVING, BENEFIT-WASTING FORINGERS on sight, then im voluntearing my services FREE as an imigrant spoter!!!" 4 of his friends commented that they liked this.
However, the Metropolitan Police painted a very different picture today, as Gauleiterintendant David Hartbeat of the force's New Public Order Branch explained how, even as he spoke, the rogue states of North Korea and Iran were secretly supplying huge quantities of arms, intelligence and funding to a murderous hardcore legion of Socialist Worker shock-troops and death-or-glory anarchists, who were likely to mount a devastating scorched-earth blitzkrieg on your front door next Friday.
"Look at the mass protests on the streets that are devastating Europe's cities right now," he warned. "Already, in our glorious nation of innocent dances round the maypole and the tranquil knock of leather against willow on the village green, the mass-murdering demagogues of the Transport and Salaried Staffs' Association are mustering their doctrine-addled cadres for a pre-emptive rail strike - and that's just the first clarion call to arms for the dreaded troublemaker rebellion."
"I say this to those head-in-the-sand types who say 'it couldn't happen here'," he went on, his voice rising in pitch and volume. "We know where you Guardian-reading intellectuals live and we will not hesitate to stop you from spreading your vile message of reasonable behaviour. We're armed to the teeth with tasers, Heckler & Koch assault rifles, American-style nightsticks and all kinds of noxious sprays to make you puke your organs out - and we're just itching to using them. So you lefty liberal bastards better shut the fuck up, stay indoors with your collection of hand-knitted Andean tank-tops and let the wave of anarchy break itself on Britain's thick blue line! We happy few! We band of brothers!"
"Mind how you go now, sir, " he added.
Guantanamo Captive Free At Last... er... Hang On... No He Isn't
Binyam Mohammed, the British resident tortured and held without charge, trial or basic human rights for four years at Guantanamo Bay, has flown into the UK this afternoon - where he was immediately detained by immigration officials on duty at that well-known international airport, RAF Northolt, under Port and Border Controls regulations.
"I'd like to thank the British government for making me feel so at home," said an overjoyed Mr Mohammed as he was hauled away. "If I was simply given my liberty - or even properly arrested by the due process of law - the sudden, overwhelming feeling of being treated like a human being at last would probably be too much to handle."
"I'd like to thank the British government for making me feel so at home," said an overjoyed Mr Mohammed as he was hauled away. "If I was simply given my liberty - or even properly arrested by the due process of law - the sudden, overwhelming feeling of being treated like a human being at last would probably be too much to handle."
Sunday 22 February 2009
Nation Weeps Dignified Tears as Heroic Dying Racist Cretin Marries Violent Moron
Casualty departments across Britain were reported to be overstretched beyond breaking point by the fallout from the tragic deathbed wedding of a foul-mouthed racist with cancer and a vicious brute, said haggard hospital doctors.
Car parks and reception areas were turned into emergency triage units and long-retired nurses were dragged from their residential homes in order to process the vast numbers who had literally cried their eyes, tear ducts, sinuses and frontal lobes out watching the saddest, bravest, most tasteful event in the history of civilisation.
Strong security was in evidence at the Essex hotel where the wedding was due to take place, with Apache attack helicopters hovering overhead and machine-gun emplacements strategically placed to keep out journalists who had not thrown sufficiently large bundles of cash at the couple.
Convicted thug Jack Twatt arrived first, staggering obliviously through the minefield laid earlier by Max Clifford, resplendent in his groom's outfit of white bra and g-string, and pausing poignantly from time to time to heave up the remains of several gallons of vodka. After he had given the traditional interviews to (and taken several drunken swings at) journalists from OFUK! magazine and Dying TV, blushing bride-to-be Jade Baddy's majestic life-support hearse was ceremonially led through the mined approach road by a team of army sappers in full dress uniform.
Attached to several drips and an array of monitoring equipment, Ms Baddy was wheeled out on a gurney, resplendent in a pale blue hospital gown. She was then pumped full of morphine before being wheeled down the makeshift aisle next to her staggering, retching groom to the lilting accompaniment of Amy Wino drunkenly slurring her way through 'Things Can Only Get Better'.
The ceremony was tactfully led by Graham Norton, reprising his role as Father Noel. In order to minimise the risk of Ms Baddy expiring before the wedding was over, the vows were restricted to "Do you? Eh? Mmm, of course you do!" - to which Mr Twatt movingly replied "Woteva" and Ms Baddy flashed a single light on her console. The couple were then hauled away by stewards and paramedics to place their thumbprints in the register, while the star-studded congregation - including Vernon Cole, Nasty Nick, Kerry Katona, Simon Cowell, Sharon Osbourne, Peaches Geldof and Wayne and Waynetta Rooney - mouthed the words to Abba's ever-popular 'Super Trouper'.
Straight after the ceremony, Justice Minister Jack Straw officially handed Mr Twatt a signed letter from Gordon Brown, graciously permitting him to avoid his probation curfew for one night.
Tearjerking letters of heartfelt congratulation were then solemnly read out by Sir Trevor Macdonald, sent by wellwishers including the Queen, the Pope, the Dalai Lama, Barack Obama, Bob Geldof, Alexandra Burke, Davina, Brucie, Jack 'The Hat' McVitie, Osama bin-Laden, and the Yorkshire Ripper. In a particularly moving tribute, Russell Brand and Jonathan Ross expressed the desire to fight each other to the death over who would have the honour of being the first to have necrophilic intercourse with Mrs Twatt after she died.
The blessed couple were then pushed out into the grounds and onto a floodlit platform, where the semi-comatose Mr Twatt made a half-hearted attempt to mount his moribund bride for the benefit of the watching TV cameras without knocking any of the various life-prolonging tubes and sensors off her pain-wracked body.
The proud husband and wife then spent the rest of their special night with journalists, where the croaking bride reiterated her brave, dignified determination to go through with the futile travesty of a wedding in order to raise public awareness of the virtually unheard-of condition known as cancer, previously known only to top medical experts through a handful of isolated cases.
"Jade's juss so fucken brave, y'now wot om sayen?" sobbed one fan with tears and eyeballs rolling down her cheeks, as she waited to have her eyes spooned back into their sockets by hard-pressed staff at one London hospital. "She bin like a muvva ta me, an' a sista, an' a bes' friend like, all rolled inta wun. Respeck. Y'now wot ah fink, like? If every fucka cud be like Jade, yeh, the world wud be a betta place innit. Even that Paki caah, y'know, Shitty Poppadum or woteva, she forgived 'er - only like she juss cuddent make it to the weddin' at shawt notice an' all, cos she wuz like painten 'er nails or putten a spot on 'er forrid or summink."
One callous bastard, however, heartlessly suggested that if Ms Goody had really wanted to ensure the best possible future for her two children, then perhaps she should have had her fanny sewn up before she ever got pregnant in the first place. He was swiftly cornered and torn to pieces by a baying crowd of blind chavs, and serve the evil fucker right.
Car parks and reception areas were turned into emergency triage units and long-retired nurses were dragged from their residential homes in order to process the vast numbers who had literally cried their eyes, tear ducts, sinuses and frontal lobes out watching the saddest, bravest, most tasteful event in the history of civilisation.
Strong security was in evidence at the Essex hotel where the wedding was due to take place, with Apache attack helicopters hovering overhead and machine-gun emplacements strategically placed to keep out journalists who had not thrown sufficiently large bundles of cash at the couple.
Convicted thug Jack Twatt arrived first, staggering obliviously through the minefield laid earlier by Max Clifford, resplendent in his groom's outfit of white bra and g-string, and pausing poignantly from time to time to heave up the remains of several gallons of vodka. After he had given the traditional interviews to (and taken several drunken swings at) journalists from OFUK! magazine and Dying TV, blushing bride-to-be Jade Baddy's majestic life-support hearse was ceremonially led through the mined approach road by a team of army sappers in full dress uniform.
Attached to several drips and an array of monitoring equipment, Ms Baddy was wheeled out on a gurney, resplendent in a pale blue hospital gown. She was then pumped full of morphine before being wheeled down the makeshift aisle next to her staggering, retching groom to the lilting accompaniment of Amy Wino drunkenly slurring her way through 'Things Can Only Get Better'.
The ceremony was tactfully led by Graham Norton, reprising his role as Father Noel. In order to minimise the risk of Ms Baddy expiring before the wedding was over, the vows were restricted to "Do you? Eh? Mmm, of course you do!" - to which Mr Twatt movingly replied "Woteva" and Ms Baddy flashed a single light on her console. The couple were then hauled away by stewards and paramedics to place their thumbprints in the register, while the star-studded congregation - including Vernon Cole, Nasty Nick, Kerry Katona, Simon Cowell, Sharon Osbourne, Peaches Geldof and Wayne and Waynetta Rooney - mouthed the words to Abba's ever-popular 'Super Trouper'.
Straight after the ceremony, Justice Minister Jack Straw officially handed Mr Twatt a signed letter from Gordon Brown, graciously permitting him to avoid his probation curfew for one night.
Tearjerking letters of heartfelt congratulation were then solemnly read out by Sir Trevor Macdonald, sent by wellwishers including the Queen, the Pope, the Dalai Lama, Barack Obama, Bob Geldof, Alexandra Burke, Davina, Brucie, Jack 'The Hat' McVitie, Osama bin-Laden, and the Yorkshire Ripper. In a particularly moving tribute, Russell Brand and Jonathan Ross expressed the desire to fight each other to the death over who would have the honour of being the first to have necrophilic intercourse with Mrs Twatt after she died.
The blessed couple were then pushed out into the grounds and onto a floodlit platform, where the semi-comatose Mr Twatt made a half-hearted attempt to mount his moribund bride for the benefit of the watching TV cameras without knocking any of the various life-prolonging tubes and sensors off her pain-wracked body.
The proud husband and wife then spent the rest of their special night with journalists, where the croaking bride reiterated her brave, dignified determination to go through with the futile travesty of a wedding in order to raise public awareness of the virtually unheard-of condition known as cancer, previously known only to top medical experts through a handful of isolated cases.
"Jade's juss so fucken brave, y'now wot om sayen?" sobbed one fan with tears and eyeballs rolling down her cheeks, as she waited to have her eyes spooned back into their sockets by hard-pressed staff at one London hospital. "She bin like a muvva ta me, an' a sista, an' a bes' friend like, all rolled inta wun. Respeck. Y'now wot ah fink, like? If every fucka cud be like Jade, yeh, the world wud be a betta place innit. Even that Paki caah, y'know, Shitty Poppadum or woteva, she forgived 'er - only like she juss cuddent make it to the weddin' at shawt notice an' all, cos she wuz like painten 'er nails or putten a spot on 'er forrid or summink."
One callous bastard, however, heartlessly suggested that if Ms Goody had really wanted to ensure the best possible future for her two children, then perhaps she should have had her fanny sewn up before she ever got pregnant in the first place. He was swiftly cornered and torn to pieces by a baying crowd of blind chavs, and serve the evil fucker right.
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