Pope’s New Year Encyclical: Dissimulavero Moderari Meo Mensam Nefastam

Not what it looks like at all

Just a day ahead of an EU deadline requiring him to clean up his financial act, Pope Benedict XVI has confirmed the moral authority of the Roman Catholic church with a message of hope for the New Year contained in his latest encyclical, ‘Dissimulavero moderari meo mensam nefastam’, (‘I shall pretend to run my crooked bank properly’).

The somewhat belated step towards the moral high ground comes after Italian judges ordered the seizure of £19m which the Vatican had tried to deposit in a commercial bank in St Peter’s Square, without any explanation of where it had come from or who it was intended for, and began a criminal investigation into the sacred bank’s director and his deputy.

The Pope then tried to evade international laws on money laundering by claiming that his bank was not really a bank at all, but an Institute for Works of Religion. Financial regulators then sang the response, ‘Pa aliam filiolus Jacobus in eo campanae’, (‘Pull the other one, sonny Jim - it’s got bells on’), and dismissed him with a demand to clean up his act by 31st December or else.

Successive popes throughout the ages have maintained a tradition of pretending that things are not what they might appear to be to the simple, unenlightened layman. For example, the Vatican is not just a big church with rather a lot of administrative wings tacked onto it, but an important nation state with embassies and a seat at the UN, while a doddery old bloke in a big hat is actually God’s personal spokesman on earth and a Nazi anti-aircraft gun is in fact Christ’s Blessed Finger of Thunderous Mercy.

Northern Ireland Water Goes Into Hiding After Martin McGuinness Says ‘Heads Should Roll’

Down with this sort of thing

Everyone on the payroll of Northern Ireland Water has disappeared today, after deputy First Minister and former IRA deputy commander Martin McGuinness told the Stormont Assembly that “heads should roll” for leaving 80,000 people without water for days.

“We can neither confirm nor deny that the holding cells of every police station in the province are crammed full of water workers demanding protection,” said a spokesman for the PSNI. “Nor can we verify reports that every flight out of Belfast today was standing-room only.”

When it was pointed out to him that NIW is a state-owned utility and therefore, ultimately, the responsibility of the government, Mr McGuinness swiftly excused himself from the assembly chamber, then reappeared half an hour later wearing a reinforced polycarbonate neck brace – much to the chagrin of Ian Paisley, who had turned up outside with a hacksaw.

Clegg Destroys Credibility Of Last Remaining Trustworthy LibDem MP

Mr Hughes will soon get used to his new self-igniting trousers

Simon Hughes, the sole remaining member of the Liberal Democrats with an ounce of public support, was fatally compromised today by his appointment by deputy PM Nick Clegg to sell to a sceptical public the hated tuition fees increase which he alone had the integrity to denounce.

Mr Hughes has already appeared in several interviews looking shifty and untrustworthy, and will soon be doing the same in schools up and down the country – thus ensuring that an entire generation of future voters will never vote Liberal Democrat for as long as they live.

“This is a master stroke by my very good friend Nick,” commented prime minister David Cameron. “Now that twerp Hughes looks even more two-faced than his party colleagues in the Cabinet. At least their craven behaviour is a product of simple human greed, which everyone can understand - but as he won’t get paid a penny extra for casting aside his precious principles, the only possible explanation is that he is gutless to the core.”

“The only way that any LibDem politicians can now hope to ever get themselves elected again,” he giggled, “Is to formally merge their party with ours, and stand as Conservatives. Something for LibDem councillors to think about between now and May, perhaps?”

Charitable Britons Not Exactly Jumping For Joy At Promise Of Patronising Letter From Junior Minister Of Paperclips

+ Citizen transaction detected +

The government’s suggestion that some junior minister’s secretary might post a patronising form letter to members of the public who make large donations to charity has somehow failed to generate the hoped-for dancing in the streets, Cabinet Office minister Francis Maude admitted this evening.

“On the one hand, people seem to appreciate that simply having cash deducted from every transaction they make frees them from the onerous responsibility of having to actually think for themselves about which charities they might wish to support,” he said. “Unfortunately, however, people seem to have noticed that a suitable-for-framing letter from a government minister congratulating them on their generosity rather implies that the government will be keeping complete records of every single transaction they make, right down to which cash machines they use, and for some reason they find this rather irksome.”

Charities have already welcomed the scheme, albeit with some reservations.

“We think the scheme doesn’t quite go far enough,” said John Low, the rather well-paid chief executive of some strange and hitherto unnecessary entity calling itself the ‘Charities Aid Foundation’. “What we would greatly prefer to see is a scheme whereby everybody’s wages are automatically paid direct to us, and we can then opt to make the occasional one-off donation of a small percentage of their earnings to people whenever a rare mood of philanthropic benevolence briefly takes us.”

Daily Mail Urges All Right-Thinking Christian Folk To Put Sick Assembly-Ban Perverts To The Torch

The Daily Mail – the nation’s appointed upholder of the timeless Christian values of love, charity, understanding and public burnings – reacted today with Christ-like tolerance to calls from the National Secular Society for the abolition of compulsory religious school assemblies, which are required under the 1944 Education Act, by calling on all God’s children to hunt down every last godless heathen scum and send them all to the purifying flame.

The society’s antichrist-in-chief, Keith Porteous, sowed the seeds for his own richly-deserved consignation to the everlasting agonies of the pit in a shameful letter to education secretary Michael Gove.

They won't be teaching any more of that Darwin nonsense

“We believe that the mandatory daily acts of mainly Christian worship and, in particular, the imposition on children to take part in such acts, represent an infringement of rights,” wrote the brazen tool of Satan. “We recognise that assemblies with an ethical framework have a vital contribution to make to school life. We do, however, object to collective worship in principle, as not being a legitimate activity of a state-funded institution.”

On reading the hate-filled atheists’ wicked diatribe, Mail editor Paul Dacre was sorely stricken with a fit of holy righteousness and commanded his scribe, Neil Sarse, to rouse up the faithful followers of the Lord.

“Jesus never uttered a word about ‘human rights’,” he spluttered indignantly, “Therefore they are not of God, and we shall have no truck with them.”

“Our Lord Jesus Christ preached the blessed virtues of mercy and forgiveness,” he thundered with holy zeal. “This is why all God-fearing Christians must drive out the vile heretics from their nests – you can start with the teachers, all of them black-hearted trots to the core – and put both them and their sinful human rights to the torch. Now that’s what I call a school assembly truly worthy of our Lord and Saviour.”

Western Governments Condemn Russia’s Perverse Determination To Convict Businessman Of Fraud

This would simply never happen in the West

Russia’s prime minister, Vladimir Putin, angrily warned the leaders of the Western democracies to keep out of its domestic affairs, as they continued to express grave concerns over Russian justice in the case of incredibly rich fraudster Mikhail Khodorkovsky.

Mr Khodorkovsky, a former Komsomol deputy who woke up one morning and decided that all the oilfields in Russia belonged to him, is already serving an eight-year sentence and, in a second trial, has now been declared guilty of stealing oil worth more than $26bn from his own company, presumably to fuel an extremely large car.

The White House has said that it is “deeply concerned” about the “selective application of justice”, pointing out that a string of criminal activities is now a basic entry requirement for Russian politicians, while both France and Germany have condemned the Russian legal system for its backwardness in actually putting a rich businessman on trial at all.

“It is the sign of a healthy democracy that the legal concept of fraud, once the preserve of the wealthy, has long since been extended to the people, and is nowadays only ever prosecuted in the case of dolescum who have a 20-hour part-time cleaning job yet tell the Jobcentre they do less than 16 hours a week,” commented a legal expert. “Nobody expects to see a chap in an Armani suit in the dock any more - and as for a corporate multi-billionaire actually doing time, well, it simply isn’t done.”

This isn’t law,” he observed scathingly. “It’s justice, which has no place in a modern society.”

Mr Putin remains unmoved, however, insisting on Russian TV even before the judge announced his verdict that a “thief must be in politics - unless he dares to criticise me, of course, in which case obviously he must be in prison.”

Warnings About Overexercise And Lack Of Eating Still Strangely Absent From Post-Christmas Headlines

Nothing to worry about

Research not carried out by Oxford University, the British Heart Foundation and the BMA and not published today - or any other day - warns the public of serious health risks posed by too much exercise and not eating enough.

“Exercising too much is the direct cause of a wide range of health issues, ranging from muscle strain and torn ligaments right up to long-term damage to the joints and fatal heart attacks,” said nobody from the Department of Health.

“Not eating enough can lead to a range of debilitating conditions caused by nutritional deficiencies,” added no one, “And it can also lead to potentially deadly mental health problems like anorexia and bulimia.”

Meanwhile, there are no calls from the medical community for a hard-hitting government campaign against rank idiocy, which is one of the biggest problems facing Britain’s increasingly hard-pressed Accident & Emergency units.

“Complete and utter fucktards are not just a major drain on the NHS,” warned nobody. “Sheer crass stupidity is damaging the entire economy. In 1986 only 7% of the British population had shit for brains, but by 2008 that figure had rocketed to 25% - and this winter suggests that the rise is exponential. Whether they’re wrapping their cars round lamp-posts on icy roads or managing Heathrow Airport, it seems this is truly The Age Of The Absolute Fuckwit.”

“If the running of the country wasn’t in the hands of a guffawing troupe of hooray henries, perhaps the government could run a never-ending catalogue of patronising campaigns aimed at making mulish thickery socially unacceptable,” opined one harassed gutbucket. “I, for one, am longing for the day when some witless yahoo feels a pressing need to lean out of a car window and hurl childish abuse at himself.”

But Your Readers Are Middle Class, Government Tells Writers

The government has responded to criticism by some of Britain’s leading writers of its decision to pull £13m of funding from a children’s literacy charity by pointing out that their readers are all middle class and can probably afford to cough up the readies for a book or two a year.

"To put a gift of books into the hands of newborn children and their parents is to help open the door into the great treasury of reading, which is the inheritance of every one of us, and the only road to improvement and development and intellectual delight in every field of life,” complained middle-class children’s author Philip Pullman, while Andrew Motion - who used to write lah-di-dah poetry for the Queen - came out with some airy-fairy effort that didn’t even rhyme

"In these difficult economic times, ministers have to take tough decisions on spending," said a bored spokesman at the Department for Education who was manning the phones over the Christmas break. “And, as usual, they have decided the underclass can take the hit. After all, if the scum can’t read and write, they’ll have a bit of a job claiming benefit. Anyway, all they do with books is draw cocks all over them before tearing them up to make roaches so they can get stoned.”

Rich bastard, Young Conservative, dying peasant - it's the perfect Christmas

“I was fascinated, in the run-up to Christmas, to watch Ian Hislop’s illuminating three-part documentary on BBC2 about the Victorian do-gooders,” explained bloated prime minister David Cameron, as a manservant cleared away the vast quantity of leftovers from last night’s five-course Christmas banquet. “For any Tory, it was a bit like watching a ready-made hit list of all the great reforms that need undoing.”

“It’s understandable, with the French Revolution still fresh in everybody’s minds, why the ruling classes of the day might have felt it necessary to throw a few scraps to the great unwashed,” he admitted, “But now they’re all safely pacified with reality TV, soccer and lager, there’s simply no need for all that rubbish any more. It’s just the middle classes, like the bloody students, that we have to keep sweet.”

“The lower orders used to bump along just fine without literacy, morals, healthcare, rights or freedom before,” he insisted. “I’m sure they can manage again. And I’ll tell you another thing - back in those days, they bloody well knew their place.”

“By the way, did everybody see Doctor Who?” he added with a belch, waving a glazed leg of lamb at his webcam. “In a way that’s just what my Big Society is all about – interfering know-alls taking it upon themselves to make things better for their friends and the rich without wasting a second’s thought on the underlying issues of poverty and ill-health, And if poor people have to die needlessly, well, too bad. That’s what they’re there for.”

Widely-Predicted Retail Bankruptcies Somehow Fail To Materialise

Despite all their gloomy predictions in the run-up to Christmas, in which the nation’s pessimistic retailers warned that the recession and harsh weather were combining to force them out of business, supermarket chain Waitrose today announced with a flourish that it had somehow enjoyed its most profitable Christmas ever.

“Whoever would have thought that reducing the profit margin slightly on outsize tellies and quietly whacking up all the food prices would rake in the cash?” beamed delighted managing director Mark Upp, as he thumbed eagerly through a Bugatti brochure.

Peasants Keen To Hear Rich Woman’s Cake Speech

Shivering peasants jumped for joy in their icebound hovels today on hearing the proclamation that, at the end of a dreadful year of unrelenting poverty, redundancies, towering debt, political deceit, swingeing cutbacks, mounting racism, increasing troop casualties, rioting in the streets, police brutality and the return of class warfare, Her Majesty the Queen will use her Christmas Day speech to address the critical importance of cakes.

Let them play sport

The Queen, who this year has selected Hampton Court from among her many palaces as the fabulous backdrop for her thoughtful insights, is to celebrate the central role played by cakes in the lives of her lowly serfs – from the dainty fairy cakes served up by sweet old ladies in the tea tents of picture-postcard cricket matches on England's village greens to what she fondly believes to be hash browns sold by blissed-out hippies during the idyllic summer’s popular beat-music festivals.

“Countless thousands of peasants every week give up their time to participate in mixing and baking cakes of all sorts, or simply encourage others to do so,” opines the much-loved Queen, in a sneak preview which includes heartwarming footage of her grandsons in Lesotho fervently cramming their distended cheeks with Battenburg slices, laughing indulgently as picturesque little black orphans fight under their feet for loose crumbs.

"Cakes are common throughout the world and - mmm - play a part in providing a different perspective on life," she will add between mouthfuls, as she repeatedly pushes her jam-smeared royal visage into a Swiss roll the size of a railway carriage. “Yum.”

“It’s good to know that my plight is shared by the Queen, who has slumped to 12th position in the Forbes list of the world’s wealthiest monarchs,” acknowledged newly-redundant council care worker Michelle Hoskins, wiping a loyal tear from her eye. “I’m only sorry that, as I’ll probably be on benefits from now until the government abolishes them completely, I won’t be able to contribute any more income tax to prop her up.”

“It must be terrible being down to her last £349m,” she added mournfully. “God bless you, ma’am, for thinking of us at Christmas.”

Jeremy Clarkson Do Bad Thing

Wah

Frizzy man on telly do bad thing, wailed millions of viewers who have reverted to a state of childish innocence for the duration of festive season, after being left deeply traumatised by a mock drive-by shooting of the Stig by the presenters of the first of two Tiny Penis Specials.

BBC switchboards have been jammed with the outraged sobs of wives and girlfriends, who claim their child-like enjoyment of Christmas has been ruined by the stupid prank as their tiny-cocked partners forced them to watch Jeremy Clarkson, James May and their hamster take pot-shots at a cardboard cut-out of the mystery racing driver who won a court battle to reveal his identity in a book earlier in the year.

“The frizzy man drived up in his car and he pointed his nasty gun at the helmet man and he went bang with it and there was a big hole in the helmet man’s head and I was scared and did a poo,” cried little Sue Hart, 34.

“my daughter samijoe says its alrigth cos its not like a reel man reely its just pretend,” emailed Michelle Hoskins, 25. “but i scremed and hid in my room my spechal frend dave just sat on the sofer and lafed and did a big smelly bottom noys hes not my freind any more im not hideing the sosige with him any moor this crismas so he can go away and play with himself until janiury”.

The BBC’s Head of Entertainment And Events, Katie Taylor, later issued a statement saying she had just about had enough of that nonsense and if viewers didn’t calm down RIGHT NOW then Father Christmas would take their bloody presents straight back to the North bloody Pole, then stamped off to the kitchen to have a fag.

Wills And Kate Coin Designed To Confuse Terrorists

Can't quite place them, but I'd swear the other one's my mum

The Royal Mint has sprung to the defence of the newly-unveiled Alderney £5 commemorative coin, which bears the legend ‘Celebrating The Engagement of William and Catherine’ around the poorly Photoshop-embossed faces of God only knows.

“Any fundamentalist numismatic Muslim terrorists collecting this splendid coin with a view to blowing the royal couple to smithereens will be left none the wiser regarding their identities,” explained Dave Peasant, director of commemorative coins at the Royal Mint, who firmly maintained that the anonymous image on the reverse of the coin was based on a genuine snap somebody took on their Nokia at a polo match, or possibly in a nightclub under adverse lighting conditions.

“Our artist’s 14-year-old son strove to achieve an informal look, emphasising that the royals are ordinary folks just like you and me, only unimaginably rich,” he said, adding, “Look, we’ve done the same with Her Maj on the obverse face. That could be your dotty nan, who smells of wee, couldn’t it?”

Public opinion on the Wills-and-Kate effort has been mixed, however, with 45% thinking the image depicts former Doctor Who David Tennant and Catherine Tate, 27% identifying them as Jade Goody and Robbie Williams and other 28% saying they could swear it was that bird down the pub last night and her bloke, who had a bit of a barney and left separately.

The Queen, meanwhile, is reported to have given her approval to the design. However, since she has given her approval to every unpleasant scheme dreamed up by successive governments for the last 58 years, Buckingham Palace officials have advised the public not to read too much into that.

Channel 4 Keen To Prove Its Existence With Footage Of Frankie Boyle Crapping Satirically Into Ethnic Child’s Wheelchair

And tonight he's going to fuck your mum in the name of comedy

The long-forgotten Channel 4 is mounting an increasingly desperate campaign to remind viewers that it still exists, by threatening to air live footage of unwanted ginger child Frankie Boyle stamping around the streets of London in an attempt to outrage everybody he meets.

“Believe it or not, Channel 4 is still here, still broadcasting away merrily to itself and still hacking away at the cutting edge of television,” ranted some cokehead nobody with a very expensive pair of glasses, who insisted he was its Head of Comedy. “But you probably fucking missed last night’s fantastic airing of Frankie’s satire masterpiece, ‘Rohypnol Nights’ - in which he hilariously told a little piccaninny with leukaemia to fuck off and kicked some blind wog bint under a passing bus – because you were watching some boring old toss like the Goodies, you provincial brain-dead cunts.”

“If you have the rudimentary intelligence to find us on your digital boxes, don’t miss Jimmy Carr pissing into a quadraplegic ex-serviceman’s eyes on Christmas Day,” he added. “It’s funny in an incredibly sophisticated way, even if you’re all too bloody repressed to appreciate it. And please, please help to spread the word that we’re still here by visiting our website, typing your name into the Outraged Viewer letter and clicking the ‘email to every Tory MP’ link. We need the publicity.”

“Shitty Christmas, everybody, and we wish you all AIDS in the New Year!” he added waggishly.

F1 Car Design To Return To A Simpler, Happier Time

The 2013 Ferrari prototype got to 390mph before exploding

From 2013, sweeping new rules will force Formula One car designers to abandon huge aerodynamic wings and seek other ways of generating downforce - taking the much-criticised race series back to an earlier era of mechanical simplicity in the vain hope that drivers might actually have a go at overtaking the car in front, instead of sitting comfortably on its tail for 64 sleep-inducing laps and hoping that its wheels fall off or something.

“I – whoops, slip of the tongue – the FIA committee asked Patrick Head and Rory Byrne to apply their years of experience to the problem of audiences all over the world falling into deep comas,” said Formula One owner Bernie Ecclestone. “And they have decided that it’s all the fault of these aerodynamic aids, whose ability to keep the cars going where they’re pointed falls off dramatically in the turbulent air of another car’s slipstream.”

“An F1 car really only needs two things: power and traction,” explained Williams engineer Patrick Head, “Although Bernie is adamant that a passenger of some kind is necessary for the TV ratings. So we’ve stripped the design back to basics. All cars will have to use a 56-litre turbocharged Allison V-3420 engine, which can bang out 2600hp on war emergency power - although teams will have to bear in mind that only 150 of these monsters were ever made, and at the end of the season the world’s aviation museums will want their exhibits back in reasonably good nick. This 24-cylinder dinosaur will also eliminate the advantages gained from clever pit stop strategy, as every car will have to come in on each lap to refuel.”

“With no fancy aero packages, we hope designers will use their imaginations to come up with exciting new ways to keep their cars on the tarmac,” suggested Ferrari’s Byrne. “For example, in a throwback to the reverse ground-effect techniques of yesteryear, the 2013 Ferrari will use the extraordinary suction of James Dyson’s revolutionary vacuum cleaner to cling to the road like glue.”

“I understand that McLaren and Renault are already fighting to get Hoover on board,” he added, “And there are indications that Force India have just put in quite a big order for Pritt Sticks.”

Cameron And Clegg Sew New ‘Property Of R. Murdoch’ Label To Vince Cable’s Tongue

After 24 hours of Kay Burley, Mr Cable will be like this for the rest of his life

The leaders of the coalition have reacted quickly to Lib Dem rebel Vince Cable’s astonishing attack on media tycoon Rupert Murdoch, by stitching a new label to the business secretary’s tongue and reminding him to look at it every morning when he brushes his teeth.

“I bought this bastard government fair and square,” exploded the owner of News International, “Just like I bought the last one, and the one before that, and the one before that. If I want to fulfil my manifest destiny by gaining complete control of information across the entire globe, it’s no bloody business of jumped-up little nobodies like the British government to interfere with my plans for world domination.”

“Some little shit will be expecting me to pay tax next,” he added, as his faithful editors hastily fabricated front pages about the loathsome business secretary’s newly-invented predilection for little boys and farmyard animals.

Grovelling abjectly as they backed out on their knees from their lord and master’s presence, David Cameron and Nick Clegg swiftly caught the maverick business secretary in a trap - cunningly baited with a pair of dancing shoes - and examined him for defects before noticing that Mr Murdoch’s label had somehow come loose, possibly during a paso doble.

After strapping Mr Cable into a dentist’s chair and bombarding him non-stop with Sky News for 24 hours, the PM then forced the reprogrammed Mr Cable’s jaws open while Mr Clegg carefully stitched a new strip of fabric printed with ‘Property of R. Murdoch’ in place.

Meanwhile, opposition leader Ed Miliband faithfully promised the disgruntled billionaire that, if Labour were in power, he would assuredly have strung any such cabinet traitors up with piano wire, dragged their bodies through the streets in chains and sent the bloody chunks of their dismembered corpses to every MP’s constituency office.

A Christmas Message Of Good Cheer

Merry Christmas and a Happy 2011 from The Nev Filter

Nation Praying For Snow To Keep Osborne Away

No, please, take your time

Britons stopped complaining about the sub-Arctic weather today and began praying for more snow to fall, as long as it keeps chancellor George Osborne stranded in the United States indefinitely.

“I will gladly kip down on the floor of Terminal 2 for months to come, if it keeps that smarmy, bum-faced shit three thousand miles away,” grinned haggard would-be winter holidaymaker Sue Hart, who has spent two days stranded at Heathrow while airport workers wait patiently for God to show them how to spray antifreeze and bulldoze snow off runways. “There’s only so much harm the irritating little tit can get up to in a teleconference.”

Mr Osborne has already missed a vital meeting with top bankers in London today, in which they would have told him that enormous bonuses were vital to keeping their inestimable skill and expertise in the country, and he would have agreed with them completely but asked them to keep jolly quiet about it until he could sneak a low-key press release under the radar on a suitably busy news day.

String Research Escapes Funding Axe

Announcing cuts of 41% in scientific research funding – in addition to the 10% cut already announced in October’s Budget speech – science minister David Willetts confidently predicted that the UK would still maintain its position as a world leader in discovering new uses and applications for string.

Brunel would be proud

“String is now found in leading research laboratories all over the country,” he boasted. “These massive cutbacks in funding for buildings, maintenance and equipment will ensure that string will be used in ways never imagined in its inventors’ wildest dreams.”

“There’s a particle accelerator in Cheshire which is entirely held together with garden twine, and this is completely unique in the world,” he claimed. “And nuclear physicists at Imperial College’s Ascot site are making steady progress in their efforts to fish spent fuel rods out of their CONSORT reactor using parcel string and a piece of Blu-tack.”

“Meanwhile, Cambridge University is conducting important genetic research by trying to encode the human genome onto a length of baling twine,” he went on. “Over at Brunel, teams of PhD Engineering students are endeavouring to exploit the inherent structural integrity of string on behalf of the construction industry, while British Telecom’s IT labs are confidently predicting the nationwide roll-out of string-optic broadband technology by 2020.”

“We have moved far beyond mere String Theory,” added Mr Willetts proudly. “All over the world, Britain will become a byword for String Application.”

In Memoriam: Brian Hanrahan, BBC Correspondent

“I counted them all out, and I counted them all back,” he famously reported, during the Falklands campaign, to get around MoD reporting restrictions.

In the space of a week, both he and the Harriers were counted out for the last time; sadly, they will never be counted back again.

Napoleon And The Pope Shall Not Replace Queen On Privatised Stamps

May God be praised

The efteemed poftal affairs Minifter, the Rt. Hon. Mr. Edward DAVEY, hath told diftrefsed readers of the Mail On Sunday journal that he is “greatly Confident” that our beloved Queen fhall not dis-appear from Britain’s ftamps when the Royal Mail is sold off to any Johnny Foreigner willing to fill the coffers of the government with Gold.

Fevered Mail fcribes had fpotted a Loophole in the draft privatisation Bill, which meant that the new owners would be under no Obligation to put the Monarch’s head on poftage ftamps.

“Were the glorious profile of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II to vanish from her loyal fubjects’ humble envelopes; Why, Sir, that needs muft certainly Threaten the very Empire itself!” thundered editor Mr. Peter WRONG. “The government must leave no ftone unturned to root out the vile Republicans, Communards and Anarch-ifts in the Civil-fervice who drafted this daftardly legislation.”

“Had it not been for the unfashionably BRITISH diligence of This Patriotic News-paper,” he frothed, “What man could tell what ugly foreign Tyrants might not have glowered malevolently up at us from our door-mats? Surely no true-blue Englifh-man could bear to ftick the hateful features of the POPE - or BONEY’s greasy fmirk - onto their dear old grand-dame’s Christ-mafs card?”

“And it beggars Belief to think that the ftrutting traitor WASHINGTON could, even in Death, finally extend his Calumnious Treachery to ufurping his Monarch’s lineal defcendant from her rightful place on the Nation’s poftal packages,” foamed the incensed Editor, as his Attendants diligently rushed forward with his special jacket.

When The Hon. Mr. DAVEY tried to placate him with an afsurance that not only Her Royal Highnefs; but also, in due time, her son and heir; would furely continue to grace the Kingdom’s ftamps for Generations to come, however, Mr. WRONG fuffered an Attack of Apoplexy, requiring the painful application of many Leeches and Suppositories.

Conspiracy Theorists Experience World’s Largest Simultaneous Orgasm

Abba have been warning people about Sweden since 1974

Within seconds of hearing Wikileaks' Julian Assange claim “there is a threat to my life,” millions of free-thinkers whose understanding has transcended the narrow limitations of the left brain - or ‘conspiracy nutters’ as they are known to scientists, and everybody else – were left panting and lighting up cigarettes after experiencing an unprecedented mass commotion in their bacofoil undercrackers.

After hastily changing their undergarments in the kitchen, the rabid community lost no time in identifying the shadowy organisations who would wish swift death upon the prophet who heroically revealed all kinds of happening shit to a horrified world.

“Of course, what six billion blind sheep simply refuse to recognise is that the Bilderberg Group is obviously using its hold over the 9-dimensional aliens to push the EU superstate towards an agreement with Rupert Murdoch and the Illuminati, which would force the BBC into giving the Elders of Zion free rein to talk Common Purpose into ordering Big Pharma to deceive the Swedish prosecutor into bludgeoning Julian Assange to death with Tom Cruise’s crystal pyramid in 2012,” blogged a typical self-polluting truthseeker, who was immediately congratulated by his barmy associates for his clear presentation of the reality behind the propaganda, apart from getting it all back to front.

Meanwhile, David Icke is strenuously denying rumours that he has paid a top hitman to take out the brave Wikileaks hero for stealing his act.

Chav Tells Topshop Tax Protesters To Stop Eyeing Up Her Fanny

Midgets have been suffering for years

A sit-in organised by UK Uncut turned ugly at the Oxford Street branch of Topshop today, when customer Sammi-Jo Bloggs loudly accused protesters of looking up her front bottom.

“We are occupying the floor of Topshop’s flagship store to draw Christmas shoppers’ attention to the tax-avoidance strategies of Sir Philip Green and his Arcadia Group,” said a shocked spokesman for the group. “Not to cop an eyeful of Miss Bloggs’ hideously self-inflicted attempt at a Brazilian. If she wants to keep her spotty fadge from prying eyes, perhaps she could have put some knickers on. Especially since her idea of wrapping up warm for the sub-Arctic weather seems to involve a skimpy Santa outfit, a bra at least two sizes too small for her and nothing else but a pair of four-inch heels.”

“I’ve seen sights today that nobody should see sober,” he moaned. “After this, Philip Green’s offshore wife is the least of my worries. I’ll be waking up screaming for years to come.”

Death Is Coming, Warns Weatherman

The view from Television Centre this evening

“It is coming,” moaned Tomasz the BBC schafernaker today as he huddled in a corner of a frost-rimed BBC newsroom, trying to light a pathetic pile of hastily-scavenged scripts by rubbing two pencils together. “Death’s icy talons are in the wind.”

“Heed me,” he added balefully.

The schafernaker made his dire prediction after sacrificing a trainee editor in the traditional manner on the news altar this morning.

Data wizards high in the Tower of Meteorology had verified the weather priest’s ominous prophecy, he warned, after entering the latest sat-runes into their mighty oracle.

“Even now, a terrible area of evil pressure descends upon the realm from the frozen snowpeaks of the North,” moaned the sinister schafernaker, casting secretive eldritch signs of protection with his fingers. “Beware the terrible ravening bear and the unpleasant wolf with the munchies for lo, they come.”

“So,” chortled King Bill Bull-turner, as he mopped the sacrificial blood off his mighty table of breakfast. “Better put a scarf on if you’re planning a spot of late-night Yuletide shopping, then.”

“Aye,” affirmed the weatherscryer gloomily. “And some warm woolly gloves.”

Paint A Tippex Willy On Your Debit Card, Urge Assange Cultists

The Man simply has no answer to this

'Ridiculous’ - the online worshippers of Leakiwiks hero Julian Assange - are extending their protest methods further into the analogue realm, calling on millions of Christmas shoppers to tippex a crudely-drawn dripping penis onto their debit and credit cards in a mass show of support for their outspoken paragon of virtue.

The group, which started its protest with denial-of-service attacks on PayPal, Visa, Mastercard, Amazon, Google, iTunes, YouTube, comparethemeerkat.com and XHamster, has recently spread its tactics beyond the virtual world and into the physical domain. Earlier this week, members stepped up the campaign by scanning their buttocks and sending the images to their targets’ fax machines.

“Earlier today, a nerdy man came up to the till with the latest edition of PC Gamer and a Lion Bar,” confirmed a manager at the Queensway branch of WH Smith in Stevenage. “Without any warning, he suddenly whipped out a debit card bearing a rather distasteful depiction of a john thomas and thrust it into the reader. Sue, who served him, thinks it was a Nationwide card, but she’s still in shock.”

“Before this happened, like many of my friends and colleagues I just thought this Assange character was completely up himself, really,” he reflected soberly. “But now this principled show of public solidarity has made me realise that he is, in fact, all that stands between us and the hegemony of the New World Order.”

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I must just pop over to the stationery section and keep a stick of Tippex back for myself before we run out,” he added. “I’ll be popping into Burger King on the way home, and I need to make my voice heard.”

Despicable BBC Fiend Beheads Helpless Wheelchair Man With A Scythe

Millions of TV viewers sat in appalled silence yesterday as Ben Brown, a sadistic BBC torturer, savagely hacked the head off a cowering, helpless man in a wheelchair with a razor-sharp scythe in his demented, insatiable thirst for peak ratings.

Within seconds of the sickening live broadcast BBC switchboards were glowing red hot and exploding in showers of sparks, overloaded by an unprecedented flurry of outraged complaints.

“If ever I needed concrete proof - which I don’t - that the BBC is run entirely by vicious NAZI propagandist SCUM as nothing more than a fawning mouthpiece for the perverted diktats of that blood-curdling mass-murderer David HITLER and his strutting puppet Nick MUSSOLINI,” raged typical traumatised viewer Anne Arquette, “That moment surely came when, without a SHRED of mercy, poor Jody LenIntyre was brutally decapitated by that evil bastardfuckingfuckingcuntbastard BROWN, a mere six hours into Jody's deeply moving, entirely reasonable and unquestionably newsworthy exposé of vicious NAZI propagandist SCUM running the entire BBC as nothing more than a fawning mouthpiece for the perverted diktats of that blood-curdling mass-murderer David HITLER and his strutting puppet Nick MUSSOLINI (and you'd bloody well better leave all my CAPITAL LETTERS in).”

The new Holocaust starts now

“On top of that ATROCITY, there was ABSOLUTELY no possible justification for those sick FASCIST (and don’t even THINK about leaving the first S out to make me come across like some kind of IDIOT you smug patronising BASTAD, where was I yeah right) absolutely no justification for those sick FASCIST peadocuntscumotherfucking SICKOS on BBC Breakfast to gloatingly prop his lifeless body up in his blood-drenched WHEELCHAIR, sellotape his HEAD back on and mockingly bang their WRISTS together as they threw their guffawing heads back and drove a sodding great TANK backwards and forwards over him," she wailed, "Reducing this tragic martyr of TRUTH to a nauseating crimson gore squelching obscenely up through the TRACKS.”

“I’m writing one hell of a note about this on FACEBOOK,” she added vehemently. “That’s going to finally bring a welcome end to the crypto-fascist BBC’s unspeakable reign of TERROR, passing the CONTROL of our airwaves into the gentle, freedom-loving hands of, er, Rupert MURDOCH. Okay, so I may not exactly have thought this one through but that’s NEVER stopped me before and it‘s certainly not going to hold me up NOW.”

Incredibly, a jackbooted spokesman for the BBC later made a cynical attempt to defend his loathsome organisation.

“As a responsible propagandist, it was Ben Brown’s difficult duty to put to Mr LenIntyre the sort of difficult questions which the typical viewer - with only an average understanding of terrible afflictions such as cerebral palsy, chronic inflammation of the ego and the dreaded screaming trots - might legitimately expect to hear answered,” intoned Sturmbanneditor Kevin Goebbels, a heartless deputy apologist from the BBC’s feared and hated propaganda room. “Questions like ‘You talk pretty bloody well for a spacker - are you quite sure you’re disabled?’, ‘Why can’t you just read the Daily Mail, like normal people?’ and ‘Who, for the love of Christ, did that to your hair?’ – there are the very essence of the lofty ideals of reportage.”

“This is what we cynical, seasoned apologists of repression laughingly refer to as ‘balance’,” he bellowed in rising tones to a stadium filled to capacity with hysterical BBC sympathisers. “During the course of his six-hour interrogation, Mr LenIntyre was granted an unprecedented number of opportunities to restate his colourful but imaginary version of the sequence of events which unfolded after the unfortunate PC Savage somehow caught up his watch strap in a loose thread from Mr LenIntyre’s manky sleeve. However, the fiftieth time that useless mouth deliberately charged off at a tangent to recite whole chapters from his manifesto, Ben was left with no other option but to gently but firmly steer the interview back into the realm of topicality. With a scythe. Really, I don’t see what all the fuss is about. And take my advice: neither do you.”

The Metropolitan Police and the coalition government, meanwhile, have issued an amusing statement condemning the lefty BBC, expressing the sincere hope that the public consciousness will remain focused on the real issue of underlying importance: i.e. allowing their butterfly-like attention to float randomly away from all the dubious nonsense the government hopes to shove through as fast as it can before all the hullaballoo dies down.

BA Kindly Waives Fuel Surcharge Increase For Most Wasteful Flights

The world’s favourite airline to hate, British Airways, announced today that its long-suffering long-haul passengers will have an extra £10 per flight extracted from their threadbare wallets, in order to subsidise people who are too bloody impatient to travel short distances by road, rail or sea.

Coming soon to the Reading-Heathrow bus link

“Yes, of course most of the fuel is burnt up hauling a hulking great lump of metal up into the stratosphere,” admitted a smiling BA spokescreep, when questioned about the illogical decision. “Once it’s up there and bowling merrily along at 500mph, those enormous turbofans can just tick over on low revs for hours on end - which is why you can fly all the way to Florida and back for just £350, albeit not with us.”

“On your typical British domestic route, however, no sooner have you got up to 40,000ft than it’s time to come back down again,” he pointed out, after sneezing into a £50 note and casually dropping it into a shredder. “Short-haul commercial flying represents the least efficient form of mass transit that mankind has ever devised, unless perhaps somebody, somewhere is trundling about on a bus whose rear axle is driven from a reduction gear attached to the convection fan of a log-effect electric fire.”

“What you must bear in mind,” he explained, “Is that if ticket prices actually bore any relation to fuel usage, a lot of very impatient people could come to the reluctant conclusion that putting up with a couple of hours aboard one of Beardy Branson’s ghastly cattle trucks probably wouldn’t kill them after all.”

Michael McIntyre Seeks Last Few People Not Yet Irritated By Patronising Smugness

Why is there never a bus around when you need one?

The world’s most inexplicable stand-up comedy success, Michael McIntyre, is joining the panel of professional irritants on ITV’s brain-dead freak show, Britain’s Not Talent, in his personal quest to annoy the living shit out of the last few people in Britain who have not yet enjoyed the pleasure of imagining his insufferably smug act ending prematurely under a hail of blunt and satisfyingly heavy objects.

“Michael McIntyre has a rare talent for inspiring undying hatred in everyone who has ever endured his snobbish, patronising travesty of a stand-up performance,” his agent, Satan, told reporters. “There isn’t one panel show that hasn’t been permanently blighted by his smarmy hamster face with its huge, permanently-arched eyebrows and his arrogant, condescending attempts at wit.”

“Anyone with an ounce of self-respect already loathes Michael’s supercilious aura of supreme self-satisfaction,” he added, “Which is why, in order to complete the challenge I set him and complete his own franchised branch of hell on earth, his last remaining task is a judging spot on my favourite son Simon Cowell’s God-forsaken idiot parade.”

In his wholly unnecessary career spanning eleven long years, only the Daily Mail now rivals Mr MacIntyre for uniting the British people in a collective desire to see the Home Counties smitten forever from the face of the earth by pestilence, flood or nuclear disaster.

“As a precaution, prior to each show Amanda Holden will be subjected to a full body search for concealed hammers, frying pans and wellies before she is allowed to sit within striking distance of him,” added Satan. “I’m pretty sure her soul is mine now, but there’s no need to take any chances.”

British Public Struggling To Remember Giving Consent For Police State

Police are sure they've got that consent form on file somewhere

As Theresa May, the home secretary, eagerly pores over water-cannon manufacturers’ glossy brochures, the public at large has raised a collective eyebrow at her claim that “Britain is policed by consent and not force.”

“Admittedly I’m constantly pestered by some cheeky arse with a clipboard – just like you, in fact – whenever I pop out for a pint of sodding milk,” observed a harassed-looking ABC1 outside Godalming’s Waitrose store, “And I have been known to make things up just for the hell of it. But I’m pretty certain I don’t remember ticking a box okaying the deployment of police horses and the riot squad against schoolkids.”

“Come to think of it, I don’t recall green-lighting the public execution of Brazilians or the killing of passing news vendors,” she reflected. “And I’m reasonably sure that if anybody had ever asked me how I thought the law should be applied to police officers who take down harmless members of the public, with ‘1’ being a twenty-year stretch and ‘10’ being a mild reprimand for breaching health and safety regulations, I dare say I’d probably have picked quite a low number.”

“You know, I don’t actually remember a copper in riot gear carefully soliciting my consent before I got brained with a heavy riot baton last Thursday,” agreed student casualty Alfie Meadows, from his bed in Chelsea and Westminster Hospital neurosurgery department.

“Mind you,” he admitted, “That might be because I got brained with a heavy riot baton last Thursday.”

Gay Footy Fans Thank Blatter For Timely Advice

This could be interesting

FIFA president Sepp Blatter was thanked today by millions of gay fans all over the world who were planning to go to Qatar for the World Cup after he advised them to write a little reminder in their 2022 diaries to weld themselves into chastity belts for the duration of the tournament, unless perhaps they happened to have a masochistic streak coupled with a strong penchant for deferred gratification.

“My attention has just been drawn to some slightly less-than-liberal views apparently held by the Qataris on matters of homosexuality,” Mr Blatter told a press conference in Durban. “Unlike most Middle Eastern states, which generally turn a blind eye as far as this particular piece of Sharia law is concerned, unfortunately it seems that just being seen holding hands with another man in Qatar might get you a public flogging and ten years in a hell-hole prison. So I should imagine you really wouldn’t want to be found up his bottom.”

“But hey, let’s try a little optimism!” he added cheerfully. “After all, for all we know the Qataris might very well change their minds, embrace their brothers and transform their Islamic emirate into a secular, open-minded republic at any time in the next twelve years. Only the most cynical pessimist could possibly say it couldn’t happen.”

“Here at FIFA we are fully committed to promoting fairness and equality, which can be a difficult balancing act at times,” he stressed. “On the one hand we have to take the terrible consequences of ignorance and bigotry into account, whilst on the other hand we have several large bags filled with money going into our Swiss bank accounts.”

Mr Blatter apologised for bringing the briefing to an early close, as he had a meeting with one or two black players who were apparently a bit bothered about something or other to do with Russia.

Nobel Committee Criticised For Usurping China’s Sovereign Right To Embarrass China

Call that embarrassing?

China’s embarrassing national press has condemned the Nobel Peace Prize Committee after a presentation ceremony for pro-democracy campaigner Liu Xiaobo was held in Oslo with an empty chair symbolising the imprisoned dissident.

Now, this is embarrassing

“How dare the Nobel Committee presume to embarrass the glorious People’s Republic of China in this way?” thundered the English-language China Daily. “That right belongs first and foremost to the completely and utterly democratic Chinese government. Whether the industrious comrades in Beijing are democratically banning anyone who has ever met this dangerous criminal from travelling to Norway; demanding that the Norwegian government shut down the entire Nobel Foundation; propping up North Korea’s reckless dynasty of congenital nutters; shamelessly buying third world countries’ support with exploitative ‘development’ contracts; launching denial-of-service attacks on an innocuous internet search engine because it dares to find criticism of the leaders of the glorious revolution; or swamping the internet with botware to spy on the grovelling national servants of the evil, parasitical plutocrats, who have cynically moved their production here in humbled recognition of the vastly superior productivity of our enlightened proletariat – our political masters will always strive tirelessly for the greater shame of the everlasting Chinese revolution.”

And this is embarrassing

“And furthermore, never let it be said that our new capitalist comrades are shirking from their revolutionary duties,” continued the turgid prose. “These glorious Bentley-owning exploiters of the people have not neglected their duty in the embarrassment of China - cheerfully transforming our rivers into toxic sludge and poisoning the very air we breathe, fearlessly operating the most collapsible mines in the world in order to provide our heroic miners with glorious deaths in the name of revolutionary socialism, and industriously herding the rejoicing suicide regiments of the people’s revolution into vast slave camps to produce subversively defective goods for decadent and corrupted Westerners.”

And this makes an empty chair  look pretty feeble, too

“Let the upstart lackeys of the so-called Nobel Peace Prize Committee also reflect on the embarrassment of the Chinese media, for fearlessly suppressing the truth whenever it presumes to undermine the revolutionary socialist policies of our glorious leaders,” the report droned on remorselessly.

“And finally,” the article concluded on page 104, “May the whole world observe the exemplary enthusiasm with which the patriotic Han proletariat strives gloriously towards its own embarrassment, by its revolutionary racist treatment of ethnic minorities - like the wicked, reactionary Uighur parasites - in response to their misbegotten counter-revolutionary differences.”

"Not to mention their revolutionary fervour for eating endangered animals' penises," added a later supplement.

Noddy and Big-Ears Narrowly Escape Toyland Lynching

How dare they

Lovable brownie Big-Ears and his friend, Noddy, had a narrow escape yesterday evening, when naughty goblins Sly and Gobbo launched a vicious attack on their lovely car as they drove innocently through Toyland on their way to see a performance by the Clockwork Clown.

Sly and Gobbo had been running amok through Toyland after Mr Plod steadfastly refused to let them anywhere near the big house belonging to the conniving Bunkey and his friend Mr Wobbly Man, who want all the goblins to pay them an awful lot of money to go to Miss Prim’s little school.

After Mr Plod chased the angry goblin duo away from the house by hitting them with his riot whistle, Sly naughtily painted a very rude word on the side of Jumbo’s statue while, not to be outdone, Gobbo went one stage further and did a wee-wee on it.

But it was the ferocity of the goblins' unprovoked assault on poor Noddy and Big-Ears as they sat terrified in their lovely red and yellow car, frantically parp-parping the horn to attract Mr Plod’s attention, which has lost them the sympathy of decent, hard-working toys throughout Toyland.

Art history, the pair of them

“What have Sly and Gobbo got against poor old Noddy and Big-Ears?” frowned Noddy’s puzzled next-door neighbour, Mr Tubby Bear. “I could understand them having a go at that bone-idle brother of his, Little-Ears, who has a potty mouth, shows no respect for Mr Plod and hands out water pistols to all the bad toys - but Big-Ears’ Trust actually helps lots of struggling new toys to start their own little businesses.”

“Poor old Mr Plod’s been puffing to and fro on his bicycle all day long, looking to give them both a stern telling-off,” pointed out his wife, Mrs Tubby Bear. “Well, he can lock them up in his cells and throw away the key for all I care. Putting Noddy’s little car back together again is certainly going to pose a bit of a challenge for Mr Sparks the handyman.”

Just then, however, the papers were delivered, and poor Mrs Tubby Bear promptly fainted with dismay at front-page pictures of her son, Master Tubby Bear, disgracefully clambering all over the toy soldiers’ shiny monument and burning down the town square’s lovely Christmas tree.

Later, Mr Wobbly Man and Bunkey appeared on Toyland TV, with Mr Wobbly Man desperately trying to explain to all the toys how, thanks to his new best friend Bunkey, he no longer had any problems with lying.

A smiling Bunkey then assured law-abiding toys that he would be asking Mr Plod why he had failed to hit Sly and Gobbo hard enough. “Lessons will be learned,” he promised, “If you pay Miss Prim the new bargain rate of £9000 a year.”

Andy Coulson Delighted To Overhear DPP Telling PM No Charges Will Be Brought

Mr Coulson just can't seem to keep his ear from flapping

Top Downing Street spin doctor and former News Of The World editor Andy Coulson had a happy accident at work today, in which he fortuitously knocked the receiver off his office phone and chanced to overhear Keir Starmer, the Director of Public Prosecutions, telling David Cameron that there was insufficient evidence to support fresh claims of phone hacking at the paper during his chief communications hack’s editorship.

“I was just bending over to tie up a loose shoelace, and I must have banged my head against the handset somehow,” a tittering Mr Coulson told reporters. “Normally of course I would have replaced it immediately, but I happened to hear my name mentioned. Just imagine my surprise on hearing Mr Starmer informing the prime minister that, due to a tragic workplace disaster involving a tube of superglue and a stack of ‘Property of Rupert Murdoch’ labels, neither Sean Hoare nor any of the other reporters now seem able to enlarge upon their initial brief statements to the Crown Prosecution Service.”

“I should think my former lackeys must be feeling pretty hacked off right now,” spluttered Mr Coulson, before collapsing in a fit of laughter.

Media Student Poignantly Films Baby Trundling Down Steps

Amid angry protests outside the hated Winter Palace of Westminster, a hero of the Media Studies comintern bravely liberated an oppressed baby from the state, seizing control of its buggy and pushing it down a long flight of steps whilst heroically filming its headlong tumble on his mobile as a poignant metaphor for the pitiless crushing of the student class by the brutal coalition forces of reaction.

And it'll do as a piece of coursework, too

“The lo-fi authenticity of this MPEG will stand forever, right, as mute witness to Tsar Nicholas Bastard Clegg’s totally cynical and utterly two-faced state subjugation of the downtrodden student proletariat and their mums and dads in the squeezed middle, yeah?” proclaimed the committed young auteur, uploading his cinematic milestone to YouTube with revolutionary fervour.

“It’s best viewed in black and white, actually,” he added with zeal. “I’ll do that in Premiere, when I get back to the multimedia lab.”

The revolutionary masterpiece of Marxist cinema-verité propaganda has already drawn critical acclaim from web users around the world, with accolades ranging from “ur fukkin SPOT ON mate clegg your next” to “BURN IN HELL u comunist limey fagot!!!!!!!!!!!”, and is widely expected by idealistic students to bring about the overthrow and swift execution of the despised Liberal Democrat elite in the glorious May Day local elections.

Anonymous Hackers Bring Entire Capitalist System Crashing Down

Die, PayPal, you scheming neocon bastards

Millions of computer users all over the globe today flocked to download a piece of malicious code they don’t understand, but are nevertheless certain will somehow save self-appointed Wikileaks martyr Julian Assange the embarrassment of having to explain his hide-the-sausage antics to Swedish police officers.

“What it is right is the New World Order, i.e. Visa, Mastercard and PayPal, in league with Amazon which is like totally controlled by neocons are trying to stifle free speech yeah,” explained hacker ‘Coldsweat’ to the Nev Filter. “They claim right that making donations to Wikileaks right breaches their terms and conditions yeah but how can that be like right when you can buy a Ku Klux Klan coffee mug or buy stacks of hardcore porn from Russia er not that I’d know anything about that.”

“What it is right is that everyone can like join the Anonymous botnet and like hit the enemies of freedom right by like crashing their systems until the entire like global economy like totally collapses right,” he explained. “When the entire system of global commerce is like totally on its knees right and people are starving then the secret cabal of like politicians and multinationals will have no choice right they’ll have to let Assange walk yeah?”

Asked if the unleashed bots would, at that point, simultaneously cease attacking the world’s financial networks, politely delete themselves and allow billions of essential everyday transactions to resume, Mr Coldsweat replied, “Er I’ll like er get back to you on that right” and left before he could answer the next question, namely whether the botnet malware might have any less philanthropic tricks up its cybersleeve for its enthusiastic downloaders.

An anonymous spokesman for the anonymous Anonymous collective later denounced the anonymous Coldsweat, saying: “Whoever he is, he doesn’t speak for our organisation, whoever we are, whatever it is, and if indeed any of us exist at all. Which we don’t.”

Why I'm Not Screaming For Julian Assange's Release

As a self-proclaimed Alternative Voice, I seem to be upsetting a few people by decrying the clamour for Wikileaks founder Julian Assange's immediate release. Perhaps I ought to take a little time out to explain why.


To begin with, let me say that I agree that the timing of Mr Assange's arrest on an extradition warrant, so soon after Wikileaks' massive release of US diplomatic documents, looks like a clumsy attempt by The Powers That Be to smear and silence him. I'd be blind not to recognise this. And, of course, as soon as he was under arrest, the US government was not slow in issuing its own request for extradition; they could hardly be expected to ignore such a golden opportunity.


But let's be clear on this - this correlation is insinuation, not proof.


First of all, how much harm has actually been done to the 'embarrassed' parties concerned? We now have documents which reveal, to the shocked amazement of a touchingly naïve public, that diplomats often send frank and often less than complimentary assessments of their host countries and their leading figures back to their superiors. Well, strange as it clearly seems to many, that is the purpose of diplomats. Did people think they simply passed their time the Ferrero Rocher around? We have also learned that a member of the Royal Family is a bit of a twit, several Arab monarchies are less than favourably disposed to the Iranian ayatollah state which gave its monarchy the boot, and allied nations find fault with each other. Strangely, however, none of this will exactly come as a surprise to anybody with an ounce of political awareness.


Secondly, there is more to the question of timing than meets the eye. The allegations are not new; indeed, Julian Assange has given his side of the story on numerous occasions previously. It was only a matter of time, once his whereabouts were ascertained, before an extradition request was sent to that country's authorities by Sweden. But there is another party involved in this sequence of events - namely, Wikileaks itself. With the Swedish net inexorably closing on Assange, it could be argued that the timing of their publication was calculated to cast him in the role of folk hero - and martyr - just when he most needed a huge injection of popular support. That, after all, has certainly been its effect.


This also begs the question: why does Wikileaks need a public face in the first place? Mr Assange has made his name synonymous with Wikileaks, but what for? Surely the greatest protection of such an organisation is its very anonymity?


Perhaps it's time to make a sober assessment of what Wikileaks actually does. It receives secret documents, then disseminates them on the internet. By their very nature, these documents are unverifiable; a fact which is generally overlooked in the ensuing media feeding frenzy as one of the basic tenets of responsible journalism - namely, obtaining independent corroboration - is cheerfully thrown to the four winds. Whatever denials or qualifications are issued by the authorities concerned, the natural reaction to their protestations is to say (to paraphrase Mandy Rice-Davies' comment during the Profumo scandal many years ago), "Well, they would say that, wouldn't they?" However, the fact remains - and this is the crux of my argument about Assange - that the leaked documents do not carry the authority of absolute, incontrovertible proof.


To get back to Mr Assange's current predicament, his supporters are vehement in claiming that he is now a political prisoner, being led to his doom over vaguely-defined claims of sexual misdemeanour. These claims are nothing but fabrications, they assert, designed both to discredit him in the eyes of the world and deliver him into the grateful hands of the US government. (Or, depending on who you listen to, a suspiciously convenient Dr Kelly-style death.)


In other words, the man who publicly represents an organisation which exists to disseminate unverifiable assertions which his supporters claim as incontrovertible fact is now being defended with unverifiable assertions which his supporters claim as incontrovertible fact. What has been lost from sight amidst all the shouting, it seems to me, is that the truth is known to only three people: Mr Assange himself, and the two women claiming he assaulted them.


Throughout the world, the establishment of guilt or innocence on the basis of evidence and probability is the preserve of the courtroom. If we fail to suspend our own judgement until the due process has been observed then we are displaying a lamentable disrespect for the very truth we claim to hold so dear.


So pardon me if I hesitate before proclaiming Mr Assange's saintly innocence across the internet. I'd rather wait and see how this plays out.

Assole Arrest Causes Internet Burst

He's already been put aboard the alien mother ship. FACT

The internet burst today, as all of the available bandwidth in cyberspace was swamped by an unprecedented flood of uninformed yet insightful outrage from the English-speaking world’s army of conspiracy theorists concerning the arrest of Julian Assole, the Wikileaks founder and top nutter-prophet.

Before the internet exploded, all of the world’s free thinkers were united in saying that it is now only a matter of time before their new high priest Mr Assole is dragged to evil Sweden, where it is a foregone conclusion that he will mysteriously die screaming in agony in the cruel ‘blood eagle’ sacrifice ritual whilst helping bloodthirsty police berserkers with their inquiries.

It has also been determined by millions of people who know more than you do that Mr Assole’s bloody carcass will then be flown to Russia, where it will be beaten to an unrecognisable pulp by a crazed Vladimir Putin. It will then travel to Saudi Arabia, where its mangled hands will be chopped off. The remainder will then be shipped to China and shot by dozens of firing squads, and the remaining bits will be gathered up in a binbag for extraordinary rendition to Guantanamo Bay for electrocution.

A few sheep who raised their voices to suggest that perhaps Mr Assole might have perhaps been hoist by his own petard after shamelessly courting publicity to become the instantly-recognisable public face of the Wikileaks organisation were collectively scorned before their pitifully unenlightened comments were finally squeezed out of sides of the cracking internet by the unceasing squeals of the tinfoil hat community.

In the unlikely event that Mr Assole lives, self-appointed experts suggest that he will end his days as a team captain on a weakly satirical news quiz, a tool of the very establishment of which he will unconvincingly claim to be a critic.

“You know - like Ian Hislop,” tweeted several thousand fiercely-independent members of the paranoid hive mind collective. “He went to a public school, you know. They all have lunch together once a week, that lot.”

“FACT,” they chorused.

Panorama Accuses Games Industry Of Addicting Players To ‘Fun’

Hard-hitting BBC current affairs flagship Panorama will tonight blow the lid on the computer games industry’s despicable use of a dangerously addictive ingredient in their products, which scientists have identified as ‘Fun’.

The Panorama team spent weeks playing various Fun-packed games on a range of computers and consoles, all of which can be bought over the counter in any town in the UK without a prescription from a medical practitioner. Within a single day, say psychologists, each and every one of them soon developed classic patterns of compulsive behaviour.

What a tragic waste of young lives

Undercover reporters say there is mounting evidence to show that cynical game designers try to cram as much Fun into their products as possible, and are demanding government action to outlaw it completely.

Canadian software developer UbiSoft, however, was singled out for praise.

“Because you can’t save a game until they say so, every time you get killed you have to wade through the same old crap time and time again. Tests have proved that the typical player would get more Fun out of an Excel spreadsheet,” said investigative reporter John Sweeney, who is now in recovery after throwing his laptop against a wall. “Canada must have some sort of law against it.”

According to the programme makers, the television industry has become a world leader in the abolition of Fun.

“Unbelievably, there was once a time when Fun was a regular part of the television schedules,” droned a hatchet-faced Jeremy Vine. “Disturbingly, we have uncovered evidence that this was even targeted specifically at children - leading to a lifelong craving for Fun programming which has left many victims, now in their forties, sad and depressed because it is no longer available in these more enlightened times. These tragic cases desperately tune into shows like The X Factor and Strictly Come Dancing hoping to find just a trace of Fun, but producers now follow strict guidelines to ensure that any element which suggests even the slightest hint of Fun has been ruthlessly excised from the content - leaving these pathetic addicts disappointed, twitching and moaning about their fix.”

A spokesman for the Department of Health said that politicians from all parties were deeply opposed to Fun, pointing out that the coalition government had, in six months, done more to eradicate the Fun from people’s lives than any previous government.

“Gordon Brown - a moral paragon who has never had Fun in his entire life - made it a personal crusade to eradicate it completely from our society,” he pointed out, “So it was a tragic irony that, as soon as he became prime minister, an entire industry immediately began making Fun of him.”

Although the present government has already made rapid progress in taking all the Fun out of life in Britain for the foreseeable future, some observers have suggested that many senior Conservative ministers are secretly having huge amounts of Fun.

“Just look at George Osborne,” pointed out a lobby correspondent. “Every time he jumps up with another cut to make your miserable existence even less tolerable, you can plainly see the Fun in his eyes.”

The only entirely Fun-free politicians, he added, were the Liberal Democrats.

“When they contemplate their impending local elections wipeout next May, it’s obvious that all the Fun has gone out of their lives,” he observed.

He’s A Very Naughtie Boy

A completely unjustified and gratuitous minger shot

James Naughtie, the presenter of Radio 4’s Today programme, has humbly apologised to shocked listeners after ill-advisedly announcing a cunt live on air.

“I made an unpardonable slip-up this morning when I told listeners that I had Culture Secretary Jeremy H*** with me in the studio,” the red-faced broadcaster admitted. “I’m terribly sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Squirming BBC bosses confirmed that long-standing guidelines specifically banned the cunt from the airwaves.

“In this day and age pretty much anything goes, particularly after the nine o’clock watershed,” said embarrassed Director-General Mark Thompson. “But this cunt is utterly objectionable, and should never be broadcast under any circumstances.”

The government confirmed that anybody would, quite rightly, be mortally offended by the slightest mention of Jeremy H***.

“It’s disgusting and there’s simply no need for it,” admitted a spokesman for the Department of Culture, Media and Sport. “Believe me, you don’t want to see the filthy obscenities scribbled on the lavatory walls round here by civil servants who have to work with that unmentionable cunt.”

An Inspector Calls In Sick

A parlour in one of the great country houses of England. Several well-dressed dinner guests of LORD CAMERON are talking amongst themselves. A corpse lies on the tiger-skin rug.

LORD CAMERON: I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation for this. The butler rang the police as soon as he discovered this unfortunate chap, and I’m sure they’ll get to the bottom of this little unpleasantness.

MR. HIRAM OBAMA, an American ‘gentleman of color’: There sure as hell better be, ya faggot Limey cocksucker.

LORD CAMERON (ingratiatingly): Er… ho ho, most witty, Mr Obama, if I may say so!

The Hon. GEORGE OSBORNE, an adolescent: Hear, hear! Why, Mr Bernard Shaw, our foremost man of letters, could scarcely have put it better himself!

VISCOUNT CLEGG: I say, does anyone know who the unfortunate blighter might actually be?

(A bell rings, and the butler appears, followed by one of Her Majesty’s finest.)

FRY (for it is he): Helloooooooo! Hello, helloooooooo! And may I unctuously invite you all to bid a warm QI welcome to… er… PCSO 49 Alan Davies!!!

PCSO 49: Evenin’, all. Now then, what’s all this about?

LORD CAMERON: It’s about this damned fellow bleeding all over my best rug.

PCSO 49: Right you are, chief, you leave this to me. (Walks over to corpse, kneels down) Now look ‘ere, sunshine, what d’you think you’re doin’, upsettin’ these fine gentlefolks wiv your shenanigans? Move along, now, or I shall ‘ave to escalate this incident and call for a real bobby to back me up.

INSPECTOR SAVAGE (entering via the French windows): I’m afraid it’s a little late for that, PCSO 49. This man is dead.

PCSO 49: Blimey, that must be why you’re a proper copper and I’m only wearin’ fancy dress, sir.

INSPECTOR: Perhaps we should begin by identifying the deceased. Turn the body over, PCSO 49, if you please.

PCSO 49: Beggin’ your pardon an’ all that, sir, but I kint lay a finger on ‘im. It’s more’n me job’s worth, see.

INSPECTOR: Ah, quite so. Might I borrow your servant, Lord Cameron?

CAMERON: Certainly, Inspector. Fry, if you would?

FRY: I shall do my level best to comply with your wishes, sir. (Turns corpse face up.)

CLEGG: Good heavens! It’s old Mr Cable, the dean of Brassneck College! Er… I’ve never seen this fellow before in my life.

INSPECTOR: Of course not, sir. Is Mr Cable perhaps not known to anyone else among you?

CAMERON: I think I speak for all of us, Inspector, when I say that although Dean Cable is known by reputation to all as one of our nation’s foremost thinkers, none of us here would claim to have ever made his acquaintance personally.

INSPECTOR: I quite understand, Lord Cameron. Nevertheless, it is my belief that someone present in this very room may be responsible for the dean’s unfortunate demise, and I must ask you all to remain here for the time being.

OSBORNE (stamping foot): Really, Inspector! It’s already past my bedtime. Nanny will be cross.

CAMERON: Now, young Georgie, play the game. This is a most serious business.

OSBORNE: Oh, well, if it’s business that’s a different matter.

PCSO 49: Beg pardon, sir, but weren’t the gentleman in all the papers recently? As I recall, ‘e were ‘avin a debate about keeping the riff-raff out of the varsity. Didn’t ‘e say ‘e was all for it, then change ‘is mind saying ‘tweren’t such a good idea after all, then in summin' up say’ ‘e were all for it agin? ‘Twere way above my ‘ead, sir, if you don’t mind me sayin’.

CLEGG: Indeed. A true master of rhetoric, such as the dean, should always be able to argue both sides of the topic; although he undoubtedly raised eyebrows at the Oxford Union by actually putting the theory into practice. I say! You don’t think it might have led to his unfortunate demise, do you, Inspector?

INSPECTOR: Er… I fear I don’t quite follow your line of thinking, your lordship.

CAMERON: By Jove, Nicholas, I do believe I see where you’re coming from. Inspector, didn’t I see you on the front page of the Times the other day, remonstrating with some oiky student in London?

INSPECTOR: Only carrying out my solemn duty, milord. These student anarchists are fomenting nothing less than total class warfare, and it’s my job to ensure that the social order is maintained at all costs. It’s not for me to take sides, of course, but occasionally I might need to explain the limits of democratic freedom to radical sympathisers with a certain amount of, shall we say, emphasis, if you know what I mean.

CLEGG: Ahem… You wouldn’t happen to have your truncheon about your person at this moment, would you, Inspector?

INSPECTOR: I seem to have left it at the station, sir.

CLEGG: I only ask because poor Mr Cable appears to have several long dents in his skull.

PCSO 49: Lumme… If you’ll forgive me sayin’ so, guv’nor, them notches in the old geezer’s bonce don’t arf look about the right size.

GARDENER (appearing at the French windows holding charred truncheon): ‘ere, which one o' yew hoity-toity buggers bin chuckin’ stuff in moy bonfire?

INSPECTOR: Er, might I trouble you for the use of your telephone, Lord Cameron?

(CAMERON nods to FRY, who brings candlestick telephone over on silver platter.)

Hello, operator, get me Scotland Yard… Inspector Savage here, commissioner - sir, I regret to inform you that, due to a sudden attack of the old complaint, as of this moment I shall be on indefinite sick leave… thank you, sir, you’re very understanding.

PCSO 49: If you’ll accompany me, sir, to the Black Maria, I’ll drop you off ‘ome.

(Curtain)