Rest of World Doing Stuff, Apparently

Unconfirmed rumours are beginning to filter through to Britain, suggesting that other things are taking place beyond our shores as we continue to grapple with the single most monumental issue ever to arise in seven thousand years of the documented history of the human race, namely to which moribund corpse of a party a man with an unnaturally large forehead will choose to sell his soul.

Wall Street, for example, is said to have launched all-out war on the eurozone, beginning with a pre-emptive nuclear strike on the chaotic fight club formerly known as Greece. Germany is already mobilising its forces for a desperately-one-sided conflict with the best-funded invasion force ever seen.

Other whispered rumours suggest that a massive volcanic eruption has blasted a pulverised Iceland into low orbit, and the Atlantic Ocean is draining rapidly into the steaming, hissing hole in the earth’s crust. Airlines are warning travellers that there may be some disruption to flights, depending on the trajectory of the fast-moving basaltic rubble cloud.

Meanwhile, Israel is said to have embraced peace with the Palestinians, amid scenes of joy as flower-decked Israeli soldiers dance in the streets of Gaza with their loved-up Hamas militia counterparts. Ambassadors from the Arabic-speaking nations, inspired by a Saudi initiative, have formed an orderly queue to offer formal treaties of eternal fraternity to the overjoyed Knesset.

In the Gulf of Mexico, BP’s giant funnel has been lowered into position over the oil leak, producing a fountain of oil rising into the outer atmosphere. President Obama is jetting to the area to press the button on NASA’s giant piezo lighter which will turn the gusher into a giant rocket engine, enabling everyone on the planet to travel to the moon in about five minutes, before our planet continues on an exciting voyage into the depths of the universe in search of extra-terrestrial life.

And Catholic lay representatives have solemnly received the Pope’s resignation letter. In his last edict – the abolition of the entire clergy in favour of allowing ordinary Catholics to choose for themselves which particular fragments of ancient tribal mumbo-jumbo they wish to follow – the Pope announced that priests and bishops alike are to accept full responsibility for the massive breach of trust caused by their endemic endorsement of child abuse, and apologised unreservedly for generations of dogmatic opposition to birth control condemning untold millions to lives of impoverished misery.

In a solitary item of home news as yet unconnected to the forehead man, a solitary shopper watching the news on a lapbook in a West End internet cafe apparently overheard unnatural noises echoing from the deserted halls of Harrods - leading to speculation that Imhotep may have sold the iconic flagship of consumerism to the family of the Scorpion King.

Meanwhile, cameras relayed images of the forehead creasing momentarily in a brief frown to millions of adrenalin-pumped British families who have been locked in glassy-eyed communion with their televisions, foregoing sleep and visits to the lavatory since Thursday evening.

Der Untergang

SCENE 2010 INT. DOWNUNGSTRASSE BUNKER. PRIME MINISTER’S OFFICE.  

A finger ( STRAW’S) hovers over a map on a desk.

STRAW

The enemy has made a breakthrough along a wide front. In the South they took Ealing Central and Acton and are advancing towards Battersea.

CUT TO C/S. STRAW.

They are at the northern city border between Crewe and Nantwich and Chester. In the east, they reached Dartford, Great Yarmouth and Ipswich.

CUT TO

BROWN

(waves vaguely)

Jacqui Smith’s assault will bring it under control.

CUT TO M/S. Ministers exchange uneasy glances.

CUT TO

STRAW

My prime minister… Jacqui Smith…

CUT TO

DARLING

Jacqui Smith could not mobilise enough votes. She wasn’t able to hold on to her majority.

CUT TO M/S. Ministers. Uncomfortable pause.

CUT TO C/S. BROWN twitches uncontrollably as he slowly removes his glasses.

BROWN

The following people will stay here: Darling, Straw, Harman and Bradshaw.

CUT TO M/S. Ministers.

(Uncomfortable pause as a dozen ministers shuffle out.)

CUT TO

BROWN

That was an order. SMITH HOLDING ONTO HER SEAT WAS AN ORDER!!! Who do you think you are to disobey an order that I give?

Scene 2010A INT CORRIDOR o/s PM’S OFFICE. M/S. Uncomfortable crowd of spin doctors, policy wonks and wavering ministers.)

BROWN

(off-camera, muffled)

Is this what it has come to?

PAN across faces as CAMPBELL starts to cry.

BROWN

(off-camera, muffled)

The focus group has been lying to me!!

CUT TO

SCENE 2010B INT. PM’S OFFICE.

Everybody has been lying to me. Even the Fabian Society!

(staggers to his feet)

Our cabinet is just a bunch of contemptible, disloyal cowards!

(gestures angrily)

STRAW

My prime minister, I cannot allow you to insult the junior ministers!

BROWN

THEY ARE COWARDS, TRAITORS AND FAILURES!!

CUT TO

STRAW

My prime minister, this is outrageous!

CUT TO

BROWN

The cabinet are the the scum of the British people!

(throws pencil at map)

Not a shred of honour! They call themselves ministers. Years at the media skills academy, just to learn how to hold a knife and fork!

CUT TO M/S. Ministers.

CUT TO

SCENE 2010C INT CORRIDOR o/s PM’S OFFICE. SLOW PAN across worried faces.

BROWN

(off-camera, muffled)

For years the cabinet has hindered my plans!! They’ve put every kind of obstacle…

CUT TO

SCENE 2010D INT PM’S OFFICE.  

(thumps desk repeatedly)

… in my way!

(shakes fist at ceiling)

What I should have done is liquidate all the high-ranking ministers, as Blair did!

(waves angrily at ministers, sits down)

I never attended the media skills academy. Yet I have conquered Britain all by myself.

CUT TO M/S. STRAW.

(Uncomfortable pause.)

CUT TO M/S. DARLING.

Traitors!

CUT TO M/S. BROWN.

I have been betrayed and deceived from the very beginning!

CUT TO M/S. Ministers.

What a monstrous betrayal of the British people! But all those traitors will PAY!

M/S BROWN.

They will pay with their own blood! THEY SHALL DROWN IN THEIR OWN BLOOD!!

CUT TO

SCENE 2010E INT CORRIDOR o/s PM’S OFFICE. C/S CAMPBELL, crying, and BALLS.

BALLS

Aly, please calm yourself.

CUT TO

SCENE 2010D INT PM’S OFFICE. M/S Ministers. Uncomfortable pause.

BROWN

My orders have fallen on deaf ears.

C/S. BROWN, shaking head resignedly.

Under these circumstances, I am no longer able to lead… it is over.

CUT TO M/S. STRAW, uncomfortably looking around at ministers.

CUT TO M/S. DARLING, ditto.

CUT TO M/S. HARMAN and BRADSHAW, ditto.

The government… is lost.

CUT TO M/S. STRAW, nervously adjusting tie.

CUT TO M/S. ashen-faced BROWN.

But gentlemen, if you believe I am going to leave Downungstrasse you are seriously mistaken. I’d rather do what I like. Blow your brains out.

The Nev Filter Election Night Special

English Civil War 2: The Opening Shots

Civil war broke out in England on election night, as enraged mobs dragged terrified junior council workers from their polling booths, stuck their bloody heads on poles and marched on Westminster.

"I turned up to cast my vote at six, and there was a queue. I came back at seven, and there was still a sodding queue. Eight, nine - more bastards thinking their votes were somehow more important than mine," howled Lewisham rebel Twat Tyler. "I came back at five to ten, and surprise, surprise - yet more lowlifes blocking my path. Look, I don't give a shit about borough elections. Why isn't there an express lane for me?"

When the trembling polling station attendant told the waiting crowds that she was terribly sorry but she had to seal the ballot box, Mr Tyler bellowed with rage and - to rousing cheers from other busy but impatient voters who couldn't be arsed to wait their turn - set fire to the wooden polling station and danced bare-chested around the inferno, whipping the disgruntled crowd into a frenzy of rage.

Similar scenes were repeated in Hackney, Birmingham, Liverpool, Manchester, Newcastle and Sheffield, as angry voters who couldn't possibly find time earlier in the 15-hour window of voting opportunity declared war on something or other and headed for the capital to do something about whatever it was.

In Sheffield, local MP and Liberal Democrat leader Nick Clegg attempted to apologise to the baying hordes who were eagerly turning the a hapless housing assistant on a spit. Amid ugly scenes, the unfortunate politician was seized by the mob and torn limb from limb.

In London's political heartland, David Cameron was driving a JCB mounting a long hydraulic arm with a claw grab towards 10 Downing Street when he turned a corner and unexpectedly came face-to-face with the chanting rabble from Hackney and Lewisham. In seconds, the white-faced Conservative leader was dragged bodily from his cab and strung up from a lamp post, amid primal howls of delight.

Back in Downing Street, the prime minister appears to have been well-prepared for a long siege, although he was probably only expecting to keep out the late David Cameron rather than 50 million battle-ready English rioters. A Challenger tank turret rose from a hatch in the roof, while chain guns and rocket launchers can be seen sprouting from every sandbagged window. It is thought that Mr Brown may be somewhat reluctant to relinquish the reins of power.

As the evening progresses, converging convoys from the North of England are creating traffic chaos on southbound motorways, although some enraged rebels are already threatening those ahead of them in the traffic jam with a variety of improvised weapons.

"I wanted to kick off yeah, the moment the school closed its fucking doors right? But first I nipped off for a Big Mac to keep me strength up yeah?" screamed scally rioter Sammi-Jo Bloggs, as she rammed the car in front of her. "But look at all these keen bastards yeah? They just couldn't fucking wait, could they? Kill, kill, kill."

Meanwhile, in Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland, canny Celtic tribes who have taken advantage of 7,000 years of accumulated human civilisation to acquire a basic grasp of the principles of time management are getting on with the simple task of announcing the results of their counts.

Early opinion polls suggest that, once the dust of bloody civil insurrection finally settles, the ruins of England will most probably be ruled by an irritating, belligerent, egotistical prick. As usual.

Outrage Over Sick Glorification of Humorists

The public is being urged to boycott the film Four Lions, which is released tomorrow, amid claims that it portrays evil, twisted humorists as human beings.

"This sick travesty can only give succour to humorists everywhere," ranted the father of one tragic humour victim who died laughing five years ago. "Humorists are not people. They are vicious animals who should be hunted down without mercy by the security forces."

The film is the latest affront to decent folk to be perpetrated by the elusive humorist leader Chris Morris, who has been a fugitive ever since his unprovoked Brass Eye Special in 2001 - a tragic event which will be remembered forever as 26/7 -
caused a massive paedophilia explosion which scarred the minds of millions, outraging many who hadn't even seen it with their own eyes.

"Make no mistake. We are in the midst of a war on humour," said a spokesman for the tabloid media, which operates as the de facto government of the United Kingdom during elections, as well as before and after them. "An extreme humour warning has been issued to cope with this latest offensive. We must not flinch from our solemn duty until every last humorist has been neutralised."

In another shocking humour attack, lads' mag Zoo begged forgiveness for a sick item in which lovable cockney charmer Danny Dyer was used as a human shield for a twisted exhortation calling for angry young lads to rise up and strike a blow against their girlfriends in the name of humour.

Other offensive acts of humour include:

Dad's Army: a perverted trivialisation of a bloody war in which hundreds of thousands of decent British people and a few others lost their lives, and a cynical insult to those ill-equipped but unquestionably brave heroes who proudly wear the uniform of the British Army;
Only Fools And Horses: a subtle attack on civilised values, in which petty criminal scum are raised to iconic status while the brave upholders of law and order in our great capital are depicted as thuggish, overbearing dimwits;
The Vicar of Dibley: a sustained assault on Christianity, the very bastion of hope for those who long for a humour-free world;
The Young Ones: a thinly-disguised recruiting drive for humorists, which single-handedly led to a massive swelling of the ranks of crazed students who sit around arguing instead of going to lectures;
The Good Life: an overt denial of the values which the western world holds dear.

"There is no room for complacency," thundered the purple-faced tabloid spokesman. "Humorists walk among us today. Take a close look at the person next to you. Do they look a bit funny? Report them to the police. Britain will not be safe until the evil cancer of humour is excised forever from our shores."

Downed UKIP Squadron Leader Vows To Keep Fighting Foreign Invaders

Plucky UKIP Squadron Leader 'Biggles' Farage had a miraculous escape today, when he pranged his kite whilst single-handedly fighting against domination by Hitler's evil European superstate.

Squadron Leader Farage scrambled into the air at dawn today to continue his one-man Battle of Britain - but just as his kite left the ground he found a banner on his tail, which he was unable to shake off. Somehow he managed to land his stricken plane upside down, and was pulled from the wreckage unconscious but alive.

The legendary line-shooter was taken to hospital with minor injuries, and will live to fight again.

"I've been shot down so many times, I've lost count," joked Squadron Leader Farage later, from his hospital bed. "But I hope to take the fight to Europe again soon. Rest assured, chaps - nobody has more experience of dropping propaganda leaflets full of bumph than me."

Squadron Leader Farage's loyal batman, Unwanted Ginger Child, told reporters that his brave friend hoped to fly into Buckingham later tonight, where the Royal Observer Corps confidently expect him to lose another count.

British Tut As Excitable Foreigners Get All Hot And Bothered Over Something Or Other

As furious Greeks virtually shut down their country in protest at swingeing cuts, the sanguine British public shook their heads disdainfully and cracked open another can of Tesco Value beer-style drink.

"Typical bloody lefty strikers," said Andrew Mann, as he trudged towards the call centre where he will spend the next twelve hours fast-talking pensioners into replacing the double glazing they bought last year. "Couldn't give a toss about the inconvenience to Joe Public. Join a trade union? - I'd rather die."

Sammi-Jo Bloggs, a passing shelf-stacker on her way to fill Tesco with more cheap booze and expensive bread, echoed her agreement: "Bleedin' trots yeah, holdin' the country to ransom yeah? I reckon right iss all that 'ot weva, goes to their 'eds innit? Fank fuck it cooden 'appen 'ere like innit right jenotameen?"

To the chagrin of their government, as yet the overexcited and unmistakeably foreign inhabitants of Greece show no signs of sinking apathetically into their sofas and allowing their anger at being forced by the IMF and Europe to bear the brunt of their national economic meltdown to be harmlessly dissipated by an alcohol-assisted saturation diet of Corinthian Street, CreteEnders or The Chi Factor.

"If the British public vote us in, they will be giving us a clear mandate to squeeze them until they bleed money from every pore," beamed Tory shadow chancellor George Osborne, refuting Lib Dem leader and ghastly foreigner Nick Clegg's earlier claim that massive cuts could lead to similar mass protests on the streets of Britain. "So that's all right then."

Bangladeshis Deeply Moved By Heartbreaking Images of Flood-Hit Nashville

The amphibious people of Bangladesh have dug deep into their pockets to send aid to the white flood victims of Nashville, Tennessee, after seeing images of the terrible devastation on their waterproofed televisions yesterday.

"My heart is breaking to see such unbearable suffering," said fish-man Masud Alam. "Here in Bangladesh we have learned to seal our few electrical items into polythene bags, grout the wall socket and extract oxygen through our rudimentary gills, so life goes on when our rivers burst their banks every year and submerge the entire country. But white people should not have to endure such hardships. I am selling my children to Mr Haq's clothing factory to raise funds which I will send to the United States for the relief of those poor whites."

The good white folk of Nashville, however, have shunned the aid which is flowing in from the poverty-stricken Asian state.

"Ah doan wan' no furrin cash nosir," said angry washed-out supremacist Jim-Bob Presley. "If ah cain't find it on a map, ah ain't havin' no truck with it. So you folks from aways beyond Clarksville kin keep yore funny money, y'hear?"

Meanwhile, black residents of the waterlogged Southern city have expressed no such reservations over the source of any aid that might come their way, but say they are not holding their breath - at least not until the water reaches the ceiling, at any rate.

Cameron To Invade Your Dreams

With two days to go before polling stations across Britain open their doors, Conservative leader David Cameron has embarked upon a frantic 36-hour round of non-stop campaigning which will see him bursting into your dreams tonight.

"We recognise that, although people's gut reaction is to hate Gordon Brown for handing Britain's finances to bastards in suits, selling the soul of the Labour Party to bastards in suits and for generally being a wretched excuse for a human being and a thoroughly disagreeable bastard in a suit, when they stop to think for a moment they remember that I am that slick camera whore who fronts the natural party of bastards in suits," admitted Mr Cameron. "The key marginal we need to reach out to above all others is the subconscious mind. That's why, when you go to bed tonight, I shall be climbing aboard our experimental ship of dreams and setting sail for your psyche."

"Men - when you dream of giving Cheryl Cole one, you will see her face morph sensuously into mine," he promised. "Ladies - when you shudder as your train is plunged into darkness, it will be my doe-eyed smile that greets you at the end of the long tunnel. Disaffected young people - as you inject yourselves with cannabis before nanny tucks you in, you will enter a psychedelic maelstrom where colour, sound and time merge into one and I'm playing the bongos for your heart-throb Rick Astley."

When he returns to the waking world in the morning, having skilfully avoided diehard Labour moonbeasts and gugs, a drained Mr Cameron will stagger drunkenly around the nation, delivering slurred, disjointed utterances that make no sense whatsoever before slipping off his chair comatose as the final results are declared on Thursday.

"Make no mistake - this is how I intend to govern Britain," promised Mr Cameron with his most sincere smile.

Brown Retaliates By Sending Shiny Kettle To Maverick Labour Candidate

Manish Pot, the Labour candidate for North West Norfolk who called Gordon Brown "the worst prime minister we have had in this country" and criticised the party over immigration, today received a parcel by express courier from 10 Downing Street, containing a shiny chrome-finished kettle.

Mr Pot gained instant notoriety across the country when he outlined his anti-Brown, anti-brown views in Lynn News, his local paper.

After opening the package and fainting dead away at the sight of his own reflection, a revived Mr Pot said he would like to clarify his thoughts, but explained that unfortunately his mouth seemed to be functioning independently from his brain.

"When I said 'Immigration has gone up which is creating friction in communities. The country is getting bigger and messier', you have to realise that I didn't realise at the time that I seem to have a long-dormant Asian gene, possibly picked up from the Crusades or some other distant historical event. But who doesn't?" explained Mr Pot. "Anyway, I would have thought it was abundantly clear from what I said that I was in fact referring solely to all these white bastards flocking in from Eastern Europe - many of whom have penises this short, which they will not hesitate to wave enticingly before the bewitched eyes of our lovely flaxen-haired English roses."

Mr Pot's mother Manjula then arrived to give her son a good telling-off. However, he ran away screaming, "Who is this unspeakable foreign woman? I have never seen mum before in my entire life."

"Regarding what I said about Gordon Brown, I stand by my words," he added later, after long-suffering local party officers found Mr Pot hiding in the stationery cupboard, painting himself with Tipp-Ex. "Although I now suspect that I may myself be the worst candidate we have ever had in North West Norfolk."

Unemployed Cornish Hordes Promised Exciting Back-To-Work-That-Doesn't-Exist Deals By Cameron

Touring the gloriously scenic unemployment blackspot tacked onto the arse end of the country, Tory leader David Cameron unveiled his plans to get everyone in Cornwall who is under 25 and unemployed - or, to put it more simply, everyone in Cornwall who is under 25 - into a college place if he becomes prime minister on Friday.

During his whistle-stop tour of the Liberal Democrat stronghold, the beaming prime ministerial hopeful also promised employers £2000 for every apprentice taken on.

Cornwall County Council's chief executive, Kevin Lavatory - since the unification of the local authority, the only person in the Duchy still earning a living wage - said he was tremendously excited by the possibility of every young jobless in Cornwall receiving valuable tuition in how to claim a lifetime of benefits from the rest of the population, who would be taken on as teaching apprentices by Cornwall Pretend College.

Speaking from under a special egg-proof umbrella, Mr Cameron told a marauding seagull: "Cornwall has a proud and ancient tradition of wrecking, which I hope to bring to the lives of Britain's unemployed."

Police Warn Public To Look Out For One-Eared Man With Two Ears

Greater Manchester Police have warned the public to be on the alert for Michael O'Donnell, a desperate criminal who cut off his ear to escape from an ambulance, by releasing a photograph of him with a full complement of ears.

"O'Donnell could be anywhere," admitted Assistant Chief Constable Ian Hopkins at an open-air press conference in Levenshulme, where the HMP Salford escapee's getaway car was found abandoned. "He is a master of disguise, with an uncanny ability to blend in to the scenery and pass unnoticed in any crowd."

"Is there any tell-tale feature that could possibly give away this criminal mastermind?" asked a journalist with a heavily-bloodstained gauze pad taped to the side of his head.

Mr Hopkins stared long and hard at the notably symmetrical photograph of O'Donnell, thoughtfully stroking his earlobe for several minutes before conceding that the dangerous robber had nothing which might help to distinguish him from the general population.

Reasoned Debate of Hung Parliament Not What We Want After All, Say Voters

Polls commissioned by the entirely uncommitted Sunday Times and Sunday Telegraph suggest that the electorate has suddenly realised that they would rather have one clear hate figure on which to focus their impotent anger when they are forced to suffer the economic cataclysm which lies just beyond Thursday.

Both completely unbiased polls show that support for Lib Dem leader Nick Clegg has tumbled to fractional figures, with voters waking up to the notion that a hung parliament will inevitably mean that the prime minister will be able to slickly pin the blame for everything on somebody else, in a kind of never-ending echo of the election campaign in which everybody has now lost all interest.

"I've set my heart on four years of shouting 'wanker' at that slippery public-school ponce Cameron every time he pops up on the news to announce another cut," said a typical floating voter, Rob Blind. "I don't want him to be able to wriggle out of it every time by claiming the decision was reached by a compromise with his coalition partners. How can I work myself up into a seething rage of righteous indignation when every attack on my wallet has been decided by a rational discussion taking in a broad spread of equally-unpalatable alternatives? It would never work."

Another typical member of the electorate, Nick Stuff, agreed: "I've thoroughly enjoyed hurling a string of eye-watering obscenities at my TV every time Gordon Brown's scowling visage popped up on screen. Imagine how much more pleasure I'd get from seeing him arguing from an even weaker position than he already occupies. I don't want him to have some kind of get-out-of-jail-free card every time he sticks me for another tenner."

Seasoned political veterans say the demographic shift away from the uncharted waters of reasoned discussion at the highest level has been motivated by the rapidly-crystallising thought that even though the next government will have little alternative but to hit everyone repeatedly in the pocket, many people would like to believe that no matter how hard the recovery will be for them and their families, it will at least be nice to think that all those lazy, scrounging bastards on benefits will be getting shafted harder.

"I'll gladly make each new car last another year," smiled Mr Blind, "If it means I can have a jobless hoovering my house every day in return for their JSA."

Latest Maddie CGI Tearjerker Released

Today sees the long-awaited release of the latest instalment in the popular 'Maddie' film franchise, featuring Britain's favourite luvvies, Kate and Gerry McCann.

'Madeleine 3: Here With Me' is set once more in the hyper-real CGI setting of Praia de Luz and charts the ongoing search for the only missing child in the world, as the camera-friendly parents reclaim the dark, depraved streets of Portugal from surly Hispanic thugs by fearlessly hurling poster after poster at them until they plead for mercy. And audiences will be reaching for their hankies and buckets during emotionally-fraught scenes of the McCanns talking politely on the telephone and browsing through their emails.

Undoubtedly, however, the star of the franchise is - as always - the computer-generated character of Maddie herself. The CGI rendition features state-of-the-art graphics providing realistic blue eyelids and an impressively-animated pink bow, and it is clear that teams of the industry's leading animators have pulled out all the stops to accurately model the tiny glittering reflections in each gold bead of Maddie's new necklace.

The film's moving theme song was provided by Dido, and is expected to top the charts as audiences flock to have their heartstrings pulled by this unashamedly old-fashioned weepie. The McCanns' army of faithful fans will be reassured to note that the disturbing moral ambiguity of going to the restaurant whilst leaving a small child unattended in an apartment - which, for some, marred previous episodes - has been smoothly airbrushed out of the timeline completely.

The critics have been united in their praise for the Oscar-tipped smash - largely for fear of being tarred and feathered by lynch-mobs of outraged Sun readers if they say a word against it.