Saturday, 24 October 2009

Prince Andrew Races To Top of Shit Parade

Prince Andrew has launched his comeback from obscurity - soaring straight to the top of the Shit Parade on the day of the release of his "Bonuses Are Minute" speech, knocking BNP child star Nick Angriff off his number one spot and leaving Jan Moir of the Daily Mail floundering in third place.

Poor little Nick Angriff was left in floods of tears after learning that people now only felt pity for him after his embarrassing performance on The SS Factor on Thursday, and has written to the show's producers, begging to be given a second chance.

Meanwhile, Jan Moir's attempt to become the most hated person in Britain has stalled, since writing in today's Mail that she didn't realise there could be any sort of homophobic angle to her implied suggestion that Stephen Gately was buggered to shreds in a drug-fuelled bum orgy which proved beyond a shadow of doubt that same-sex civil partnerships were nothing but a flimsy mask of respectability for the sort of shameful, debased perversions that would make Sodom and Gomorrah look like Bexhill-on-Sea in winter.

None of his competitors' own goals, however, can detract from the stunning comeback performance of Prince Andrew - who has been devoting his time to his hobbies of skiiing at the taxpayers' expense, golfing at the taxpayers' expense and the selfless charity work of selling British weapons to deserving third-world tyrants - in coming from nowhere to achieve the very pinnacle of detestability in the eyes of the nation.

"I don't want to demonise the banking and financial sector," said the beaming Prince, as he showed a group of murderers the very latest in British crowd-maiming technology. "Bonuses, in the scheme of things, are minute. I mean cripes, what's £6bn when it's spread among so many deserving cases? Why, the poor bugger who handles my investment portfolio barely got enough for a crappy Aston Martin."

"Don't worry, though," he added with a compassionate smile. "I'll pop a little something in his Christmas card. Err... how many noughts in fifty thou? There - six looks about right."

""Actually, between you and me, I'm a bit thick when it comes to large sums," he confided with a grin.

Great White Father Threatens To Split Native Mumbo-Jumbo Cult

The former head shaman of the Cult of England, Lord Carey-Sharey, has criticised the Pope for his unilateral invitation to rebellious Anglican witch doctors to submit to his mighty mumbo-jumbo magic.

"It is inexcusable that Archmage Williams only heard about this from the big white father two weeks ago," shouted the elder from his clifftop cave. "He should express his unhappiness with the process, preferably by bathing in the blood of a domestic animal, invoking his most powerful juju and exhorting his proud warrior-curates to rise up and massacre their enemies in the Catholic village."

However, a spokesman for Backward in Faith told reporters that the idea of witch-doctors without mighty man-fruit under their loincloths revolted them so much that they would happily accept that the Pope was in personal contact with the Great Sky Spirit, along with all his Obeah mumbo-jumbo about gaining invulnerability by eating the corpse of their tribal deity.

"Old man Carey-Sharey has no power in his shrivelled-up loins any more," he laughed scornfully. "Besides, the big white father says we can keep all our favourite spells and curses. And we will still be allowed to pleasure our female property every night, instead of adopting his cultists' practice of inducting virile young boys into the secret mysteries of manhood."

"Unless we want to, of course," he added.

Friday, 23 October 2009

Nazi Invasion of Britain Called Off

Adolf Hitler's much-vaunted invasion of Britain was put on hold indefinitely last night, after a plucky defence of the nation's airwaves by the brave few.

The screeching Nazi dictator's long-feared appearance on Conquest Time was confidently routed by the Royal Airtime Force's finest young heroes - plucky Sqn Ldr 'Mad Jack' Straw VC and bar, dashing Flt Lt Chris 'Hun-Basher' Huhne DSO DFC, doughty Sgt 'Bluey' Warsi DFM and a gutsy Eagle Squadron volunteer from the United States, Pilot Officer 'Clyde' Greer.

Hitler's dreaded, droning Luftwaffle was repeatedly torn apart by valiant attacks, resolutely pressed home before the very eyes of literally hundreds of civilians who came out of their shelters to watch the epic battle unfolding in the BBC's studios.

Adolf first tried to drop an enormous bombshell by claiming that Mr Churchill was in fact the original card-carrying Nazi, but it fell harmlessly into the mud of the Thames and failed to explode. Next, an attempted incendiary attack on Sqn Ldr Straw's father blew up in the fascist leader's face, to the jubilant cheers of the watching London crowds. Before long, Herr Hitler was reduced to a state of hysteria, laughing feebly as one by one his arguments were plucked from the air and smashed to the ground by his opponents.

Back at home, ordinary Nazis were outraged by their leader's dismal performance.

"Der führer vos humiliated in ze eyes of der vorld," snarled a tearful unteroffizier of the elite Scheisskopf Division. "He vos meekly sitting zere mit ein dirty, Christ-murdering Jew, ein member of ze cringing untouchable caste und ein shallow-pated negro slave, und he utterly failed to beat ze living crap out of a single vun of zem. Some great fascist he turned out to be. Perhaps ve should follow der Fatty Brons instead. He may be a bit funny in ze head, but at least you can alvays rely on him to scream der purple-faced abuse at ze inferior races und vind up red-faced in ze dock."

"Gott in Himmel! Achtung!" he added. "For us, ze var is over."

His tail between his legs, Herr Hitler called off his planned subjugation of the British media after a bruising hour, finally mumbling incoherently to himself about the Stalinist legions of the BBC. He is believed to have retired to his bunker and blown his brains out, after witnesses saw him limping around this morning with a heavily-bandaged foot.

Three People Shocked By Ongoing Recession

Three people in the UK were shocked today, as figures revealed that the country is in recession for a record-breaking third successive quarter.

Prime minister Gordon Brown, Chancellor Alistair Darling and Bank of England governor Mervyn King are all under heavy sedation following the publication by the Office for National Statistics of a further 0.4% fall in the nation's gross domestic product.

Up until this morning, the three men had been supremely confident that mounting job losses, company bankruptcies, retail sales in freefall and the plummeting value of sterling signalled the certainty of a glorious return to the boom years of the British economy.

However, leading economists and pauperised voters said the only surprise was that the best efforts of the government's top calculator-operators had failed to fiddle the figures into the faintest semblance of recovery.

"If the government's own spreadsheets, working to the government's own bent rules, can't produce a positive spin, what the hell is the economy really looking like?" said top financial analyst Rob Blind, as he queued at Heathrow with a suitcase stuffed full of freshly-printed but worthless billion-pound notes.

"How many noughts are there in a trillion?" he added. "Nobody seems to know, but I'm buggered if I'm sticking round to find out."

Wednesday, 21 October 2009

Pop Star Performs Pop Gig

The world threw its cares to the wind yesterday and rejoiced, as a brave pop star somehow managed to summon up the courage to walk out onto a stage and sing some of his songs.

Many pop industry experts said it simply couldn't be done - especially after a disastrous appearance on The X Factor, in which the pop star's faltering confidence was cruelly shattered by having to open a door all by himself. However, no malign set-based disasters manifested themselves yesterday, when Robbie Williams mastered his inner demons and heroically strode out onto the stage of the Roundhouse to kick off the BBC Proms in return for a very large cheque.

The fragile Williams has battled with the tragic medical condition known as stage fright for years, and used to play only stadium gigs so that no fans would be close enough to notice him soiling himself in sheer terror - making the intimacy of the 3,000-capacity Roundhouse all the more daunting for the frightened singer.

Williams' preparations for his triumphant return are a closely-guarded secret. However, a strong scent of forest pine pervading the front rows suggested that the dry ice machines on stage may have been filled with industrial-strength air freshener - while observant fans watching on TV around the world claim that freeze-framing revealed that many of their plucky hero's dance routines involved shaking a trouser leg over a small grille set into the stage.

Microsoft Excretes Latest Sodding Version of Hated Operating System on Long-Suffering Public

People all over the world are holding street parties to celebrate the launch of the latest version of its wonky operating system, apparently, according to Microsoft.

The legendary wonky software giant has prepared party packs for groups of people who are so ecstatic over the launch of Windows 7 that they feel the urge to fling open their doors and dance into the street. Police forces across Britain report that, so far, traffic in residential and business districts appears to be moving normally, unhindered by crowds of enthusiastic PC users - but add that they are monitoring the situation carefully, should the need arise to send in riot squads and mounted crowd-control officers to restore order.

Windows 7 is, of course, the tenth wonky version of the legendary wonky operating system, after Windows 3.0, Windows 95, Windows 98, Windows NT, Windows Me, Windows 2000, Windows CE, Windows XP and Windows Vista. Claims of even earlier, wonkier versions of Windows have occasionally surfaced, but seem to be based on nothing more than the irrational assumption that - unlike Microsoft - most people start counting with 1.

PC owners are said to be mildly keen, after almost twenty years, to finally have an operating system that does what it's told, doesn't do what it isn't told, starts up in less than five minutes, has some basic level of resistance to malware, is compatible with the software they've spent a fortune on, leaves some CPU resources free to run programs and manages not to crash, hang or forget what JavaScript is.

"Ho ho," chortled Microsoft boss Steve Ballsup at the product launch in New York. "If I had a dollar for every time I've heard some dim user trot out these completely unrealistic expectations, I'd be almost as rich as I am now. And I didn't get rich by selling products that work."

"A personal computer is the most horrendously complicated bastard thing you'll ever have the misfortune of owning," he explained. "If you don't believe me, try installing and configuring Linux on a clean computer. Anyone out there remember trying to get DOS4GW patches to work, and all those IRQ conflicts? Yeah? Well, shut the fuck up, then, and thank me for making your life slightly less hellish."

"On your knees," he added.

Several meaningless new wonky features are being promoted with Windows 7 which were already available, if you were that interested - such as touch-screen compatibility, cloud computing and the ability to recognise and ignore multi-core processors.

"One of the problems that featured prominently in our user feedback - which we look at from time to time, when we feel like a good laugh - was the fact that Vista makes the average PC run so slowly you wish to God you'd kept that old Commodore 64," said Ballsup. "And now that the fashion is to spend a small fortune on a horribly slow PC because it happens to be quite dinky and available in pink, that's more relevant now than ever.

"So, for the discerning customer who values style over functionality, a special cut-down version of Windows 7 will be available which will boot up like shit off a shovel. Then you'll realise that it doesn't actually do anything - but holy crap, you'll tell all your trendy friends, is that sucker fast."

Tuesday, 20 October 2009

Scientists Paint Horrifying Picture of Senile Biomechanical Future

The youth of today could potentially live forever as soulless, demented cybernetic abominations, promised a team of horribly misguided researchers at Leeds University.

"Children born now could easily live to the age of a hundred, but with the body of a 50-year-old," enthused Professor John Frankenstein of the Institute of Evil Medical and Biological Engineering. "Assuming that the 50-year-old in question is at least 90% robot, of course."

"Advances in durable implant technology and tissue regrowth, coupled with the long-overdue abandonment of outmoded ethical concerns, could see worn-out body parts replaced by gleaming alloys, ceramics and plastics," leered the professor, as he cheerfully hacked his own arm off with a circular saw and grafted an industrial welding device into place with superglue.

Colleague Professor Eileen Davros - who has replaced her entire body from the waist down with a mobility scooter - admitted that there had been little or no progress in halting the onset of senile dementia with advancing age. However, she said that advances in motor-control interfaces meant that, with the aid of a simple control device, drooling machine-creatures could easily be directed by some kind of super-intelligent 'cyber-controller' into performing simple everyday functions - such as working in call centres, stacking shelves or forcibly upgrading the remaining fully-human population.

The twisted researchers say they are seeking £50m to further their diabolical schemes. A spokesman for the Department of Work and Pensions said the proposal was "extremely interesting", pointing out that if everyone had the body of a 50-year-old, they would never reach retirement age and therefore pensions could be abolished.

"All things considered, £50m to make this happen would seem to be money well spent," he added.

Bowel Cancer Officially Nicer Than Spina Bifida, Say Experts

The public should be force-fed every day with carcinogens because chavscum are too bloody ignorant to take folic acid supplements when trying for a baby, according to the Food Standards Agency.

"In order for folic acid to prevent spina bifida in the foetus, it should not just be taken during pregnancy but beforehand, too," said a doctor who knows better than you. "However, these manky slappers just drop their pants on a whim round the back of a nightclub after ten Bacardi Breezers and don't realise they're even pregnant until a brat drops into the toilet bowl one day - so any talk of responsible family planning is a bit fatuous, to say the least. The time has surely come to force every man, woman and child in the country to ingest synthetic folic acid on a daily basis, by pumping every single loaf of bread so full of the stuff that one slice will short out a toaster."

The FSA dismissed US and Canadian research which suggests that, since the fortification of bread flour in those countries in the 90s, cases of bowel cancer have increased.

"Call this research? It's a crock of shit," said the doctor, ripping up the reports. "It's probably just that, back in the good old days when the idiot public knew its place, those who were dying in unbearable agony as their digestive tract rotted away quite rightly felt it wasn't particularly worth troubling their terribly busy and extremely important GP about it."

"Of course, since folates are B-vitamins which occur naturally in vegetables, we wouldn't have to force-feed everyone with this stuff at all, if they'd just eat a pile of sprouts or a cabbage a day like they're supposed to," he snarled. "Bloody general public - I tell you, I've had it up to here with the fuckers. Somebody get me a scalpel! Some lucky bastard in A&E is going to get a life-changing operation, whether they need it or not."

Monday, 19 October 2009

Snickering Floppy-Eared Hound Buttley Hailed Winner of Wacky Races

Britain was one huge street party yesterday evening, as the nation united in joy to celebrate Jenson Buttley's historic achievement in attaining the coveted Wacky Races Passenger Championship.

Ecstatic crowds poured onto the streets after Buttley's Mean Machine GP001 trundled into fifth place at Brazil's Interlagos track, clinching his status as the fastest car passenger of 2009 and earning him a medal.

"This is the culmination of ten hard years of sitting in a Formula One car," snickered the floppy-eared hound after the race, as he clutched his long-awaited medal to his chest and floated in ecstatic glee. "I'd like to thank Ross Klunk for snapping up the old Hondastardly team for a fiver, and giving me my old job back because he was too tight to pay for a new seat to be made for somebody else."

Buttley's long road to success has been a difficult one, with long drought years in which the plucky British passenger struggled unsuccessfully to fight a natural urge to drive the car himself, despite fervent radio messages from his masters to "Please just sit there, Buttley - do nothing!"

F1 insiders say the key to Buttley's triumph was former Ferrari technical supremo Klunk's inspired decision to wire the steering wheel up to a Taser battery, putting 50,000 volts through the passenger if he touched any of the re-engined Hondastardly's controls while sitting in the cockpit.

Critics, however, say that while electrocuting the passenger may not technically breach the ever-shifting rules of the sport, it is typical of Klunk's style to win races off the track by relying mainly on legal experts instead of engineers to design his cars.

Industrial spies say that Klunk GP's first indigenous design for next season is still cloaked in secrecy. However, several Goldfinger DVDs arrived at the factory by courier last week, prompting rival teams to examine the rule book to see if it specifically outlaws tyre-slashing hubcaps, oil-slick nozzles and smokescreen generators.

Fat Bastards Dare To Complain About Being Told To Lose Weight By Concerned Members of the Public

Fat people who are fed up with being told to lose some fucking weight were told today to shut the fuck up and lose some fucking weight.

In a special 'Inside Out' documentary entitled 'Christ, Look At The Size of That', several whining gut-buckets with no self-respect or willpower will be seen waddling up to a camera and bleating about decent, caring folk who express their concerns for the health of the lard-arsed by leaning out of their car windows and shouting "You fat cunt" at them in a well-intentioned effort to convince them to lose some fucking weight.

Ordinary thin people who are absolutely free from all flaws and vices will be horrified into nervous guffawing laughter at the sight of a wobbling minger who was beaten up on a train on account of her hideous rolls of fat. They will then make various witty comments about how lucky the attackers were not to disappear into the quivering mound of flab when they punched her, suggest that assaulting people is wrong whatever the circumstances but conclude that the victim was responsible for her ordeal for letting herself go out in public looking like that in the first place. They will then feel smugly superior and switch over to watch thin people being unpleasant to each other in EastEnders.

"Perhaps now she'll lose some fucking weight," said a BBC spokesman.

Sunday, 18 October 2009

Santa Poised To Join Postal Workers' Strike

Angry postal workers have responded angrily to the news that Royal Mail bosses are seeking to break their impending strike with a Jobcentre-supplied army of 30,000 unemployed graduates, by persuading Father Christmas to join their planned industrial action.

"Santa is, as we all know, in the same line of work as our threatened members," explained Communication Workers' Union general secretary Billy Hayes. "I have been to the North Pole to put our position to him, and the venerable old gentleman has kindly agreed not to deliver any Christmas presents to the nation's kiddies unless this intransigent management starts taking our demands seriously."

"Then he sat me on his knee and asked me what I wanted for Christmas, so of course I said 'Mandelson's head on a spike'," he added. "He laughed and said if I was a bad boy he'd see what he could do."

As anti-sleigh missile launchers moved into position above the COBRA bunker deep under Central London, Lord Mandelson smilingly dismissed the dangers of decapitation by Santa - adding that, as the grandson of Labour Party legend Herbert Morrison, his own festive wish was to see the last of the hated union dinosaurs ground into the dust, finally laying to rest the awful spectre of an empowered workforce once and for all.

"It is entirely within my powers as business secretary to use the blessed Lady Thatcher's wise and just anti-union laws to sequestrate Santa's assets if he takes secondary strike action over a dispute in which he is not personally involved," he warned. "I shall not hesitate to send in a force of press-ganged doleys to seize all the toys, then task DHL and FedEx with the responsibility for delivering them all to Britain's children - or at least to a depot within fifty miles of their homes, if mummy and daddy aren't around during the daytime to sign for them."

Meanwhile, back at Santa's polar factory, the toy-making machinery stood silent as the workers downed their tools and walked out in sympathy with their postie comrades.

"Ho ho ho!" chortled the jolly bearded striker, in a rousing speech to his elves. "Mandy Mandy Mandy! Out out out!

Brown Apologises For Brief Daily Respite From Unrelieved Misery of Premiership

Prime minister Gordon Brown has apologised unreservedly to the nation this morning, after inadvertently giving the impression that he might briefly gain respite from his awful existence as a frowning picture of abject misery for one fleeting moment around eleven in the morning.

In a hard-hitting webchat with the shrewd political inquisitors of Mumsnet yesterday, a glowering Mr Brown repeatedly declined to answer probing questions concerning his favourite biscuit.

"So this is me rite - 'awrite mista president high-an-bleedin-mitey Braan or woteva ya name is - jer like Jammy Dojas innit?', an ees all 'juno me eye got rilly fukt rite playin sam fany Scotland vershun uv footy but its like nafin yeah'," said veteran interviewer Sammi-Jo, 16. "Then rite I only arst him agin like seventeen bladdy times an ees still tawkin bollocks. I wood of kep cuttin an pastin all day jenotameen, but I ad to like pick me dorta Angelina Beyoncé ap frum me mums boyfrens ahse an go fra chat wiv me probation offisa innit."

Mr Brown later had an apparent change of heart and posted a message on Twitter, telling his legions of fans that he did enjoy a chocolate biscuit for elevenses with his cup of cold water.

However, this morning Downing Street issued a further clarification, saying: "Mr Brown appreciates that it is more than Britain can bear to imagine him relishing, even for a second, the smooth taste of a chocolate digestive. He apologises for giving people the erroneous impression that he has any notion whatsoever of the concept of pleasure, and would like to reassure the nation that food, to him, is no more enjoyable than filling your car up with petrol, if you can remember the days when you could afford to."