Government Writes New Community Chest Card

Don't bother taking the wrapping off it

Britain erupted in uproar today when the government produced a pink card proclaiming ‘COMPUTER ERROR IN YOUR FAVOUR - Collect £1500 from every other player’ in black biro, and began sending out tax demands immediately.

“Oh, I’m dreadfully sorry about this,” smiled a jubilant chancellor George Osborne, who also happens to own the bank. “Cough up.”

The massive PAYE mistake was made by defective socialist software installed by a previous player, insisted Mr Osborne, and was only picked up when tax officials ran a new conservative program which is guaranteed to be 100% error-free.

“Oh, stop moaning,” laughed Mr Osborne, as impoverished players desperately mortgaged their meagre properties to the bank. “Look, here’s another Community Chest card I’ve made up which says, ‘TAX REFUND - All players with two Xes in their surname receive £5’. It’s just a matter of give and take, you know.”

Signing Demo A Huge Publicity Boost For Blair Novel

Fans of political memoirs always dress like this, no really

Gardai sealed off two main shopping streets in the centre of Dublin today, enabling former British PM Tony Blair to sit in an empty Eatons bookshop signing copies of his novel, ‘A Journey’ for a circular procession of Eatons staff.

Hundreds of anti-war protesters, frustrated shoppers and literary critics were held at bay by the police cordon, although some shoes were thrown at Mr Blair in what his entourage suggested was some sort of shoppers’ request to visit the shoe shop down the road and tell them what they had in those sizes.

Eggs were also hurled, which Mr Blair chose to interpret as a joint request from book lovers to hurry up and hatch another best-selling work of fiction.

Anti-war protesters had one success, however. A tanker full of blood was unable to push through their massed ranks, forcing Mr Blair to sign his name in red ink instead.

“I would like to thank the concerned citizens of Dublin for the welcome publicity they have given my book,” grinned the former prime minister. “£25 from all amoral bookshops, or already knocked down to £12.50 on Amazon.”

Fights Now 13% More Fuel-Efficient

Just another press conference

British punches are now being thrown on less alcohol than at any time since 1948, according to the British Beer and Fight Association. Drinkers are now consuming 13% less alcohol than in 2004, according to official statistics, before taking a swipe at the nearest bystander.

“Thish may in part reflect that the meshage about reshponsible drinking ish - hic - getting through to the public,” said spokesman Neil Williams, expertly ducking a fist swung more in hope than expectation by a tanked-up reporter from the Sun. “Well, we can dream. But it’sh probably jusht that people are now so skint that even the sacroshanct beer budget ish taking a hit.”

Mr Williams then took a hit himself, from a bottle hurled from the back of the room by roaring BBC business editor Robert Peston.

A government spokesman covered in his own vomit then entered the fight, kicking the prostrate Mr Williams in the head and screaming incoherently about the loss in tax revenue caused by irresponsible people drinking less.

Later, in a nearby Accident & Emergency unit, Dr Stuart Flanagan pointed out that the figures should be seen in the context of alcohol consumption rising steadily for sixty years. He was promptly felled by a headbutt from Mr Williams, who declared himself “groggy, but still up for a ruck.”

BMW Unveils Rolling iPod Dock

Spot the similarity

BMW has launched a big iPod dock with four wheels and a Mini badge on the boot, which will make your life complete.

“The four-door Mini Countryman looks like the smaller Mini in the same way that the small Mini looks like the old Mini,” confirmed an insufferable BMW creep. “Its subtle styling cues unmistakeably recall the classic design of the original, in precisely the same way that Yoko Ono reminds you of the Beatles.”

With such unforgettable Mini features as a stupidly-placed central speedometer, claustrophobia-inducing lack of interior space and pointless black lines linking the windscreen to the front wheel arch, the new car adds the all-important iPod dock, which is mounted unnecessarily on a sliding rail so it will disappear frustratingly in the direction of the back seats whenever you want to switch playlists. The range also features several 4WD models, although BMW pointed out that anyone tasteless enough to actually get mud on their Countryman will be swiftly rewarded by various bits of trim and exhaust system dropping off.

The all-powerful god of motorists, Jeremy Clarkson, has lambasted the new car, however.

“So… it’s designed by BMW, made by BMW and sold by BMW, but it’s not a BMW,” yowled the almighty. “What on earth is the point of that?”

Eight Tell-Tale Signs That Your MP Is a Screaming Arse Bandit

William Hague dismissing rumours

1. Has no children. Real men only got to wave their tackle at the opposite sex, and hey presto! Another bun in the oven.
2. Cuts down on taxpayer-funded expenses by sharing hotel room. Don’t matter what you say, two blokes left alone in a room with twin beds for five minutes will inevitably start comparing the size of their todgers. Within seconds, hands inevitably start to stray and before you know it, they’re up each other.
3. The internet says so. Everything you read on the internet is God’s own unadulterated truth - unlike the papers, which are all nobbled by the secret bum boy cabal what runs everything in this once-great country.
4. The Daily Express says so. You can rely on everything the Daily Express prints, unlike all that unsubstantiated twaddle on the internet. That Richard Desmond’s harder than Grant Mitchell, and you wouldn’t call Grant Mitchell a poofter, would you? Well, would you? Course not.
5. Married to attractive wife. The oldest trick in the book for MPs what are secret shirtlifters is to marry a fit bird. Any MP whose wife is better-looking than Ann Widdecombe is out cruising for rent boys every night on Hampstead Heath. Stands to reason.
6. A bit of a baldy. You know, like that wossname out of Right Said Fred. He's got to be gay, I don't care what anyone says. You could tell just by looking.
7. Talks posh (or tries to). All posh blokes are bent as a nine bob note, just like them pair out of Brideshead Revisited. It’s a well-known fact.
8. Issues deeply moving and personal denial. The only valid response to the question, “You a knob jockey then, or what?” is to immediately punch the questioner’s fucking lights out. Not gab about how bloody upset you are, like some wailing pansy.

Reasons Why It Matters To You Or Anyone Else If He Is

1. Er…

Regulator’s Startling Claim: Two Out Of Six Energy Suppliers Might Be Telling The Truth

Energy salesmen are working on new, improved lies

Consumers have reacted with shock and amazement to the disturbing claim by energy regulator Ofgem that two out of the six leading domestic suppliers of gas and electricity may not be lying through their teeth when their aggressively fast-talking wide boys doorstep you.

“We investigated a complaint made to Consumer Direct helpline by one elderly householder in the South West,” said a spokesman for the regulatory body, “And, to our great surprise, we found that the people who lived round the corner really had just switched suppliers to the one that was being rammed down the complainant’s throat by the thug in an ill-fitting suit who wouldn’t shut up and go away.”

Intrigued Ofgem investigators sifted through the files and discovered that a similar case existed, but had not been drawn to anybody’s attention at the time because the investigator didn’t think anybody would believe it.

“We apologise to our customers for this uncharacteristic lapse,” said a spokesman for British Gas, one of the firms caught telling the truth. “We realise that we have fallen far short of the standards of behaviour people expect from a large corporate giant. We take lying about our services very seriously, and the miscreant has been identified and dismissed for gross misconduct.”

“We are, of course, aware that customers who change suppliers do so, not in any realistic hope that the service will be any better or cheaper, but simply because they’ve fed up to the back teeth with the gang of thieves they’re currently saddled with,” he continued. “We fully appreciate that they would gladly sign a 12-month contract with Hitler, fondly imagining that the withdrawal of their custom will send shockwaves of imminent financial collapse to the directors of their existing supplier.”

“We would therefore like to take this opportunity to assure the public that, in future, all of our door-to-door and telesales associates will only feed them the usual crock of horseshit they have come to expect,” he added.

St. Anthony’s Epistle To The Britonians

St. Anthony celebrates the Shafting Of The 1

1. Hi! This is an (extended!) letter to the country I love. Even if it is addressed to the Britonians!
2. First of all, let me say that my decision to help you Americans to invade Iraq was a mistake.
3. But it was made in good faith; and that’s the important thing, isn’t it?
4. Do the families of the soldiers who died really suppose I don't care, don't feel, don't regret with every fibre of my being the loss of those who died?
5. To be indifferent to that would be inhuman, emotionally warped.
6. My rock, Cherie (bless her for doing the proof-reading!) has pointed out that neither of the above points actually commits me to saying I do care.
7. Make of that what you will.
8. Let’s move on to Gordon, shall we?
9. Was he a rabid, brooding megalomaniac with the empathic ability of a crab? Yes.
10. But let us not forget that he was also obstinate, ruthless and scheming.
11. And those were qualities for which I never lost respect, keeping as far away from him as possible at all times.
12. As this witty little dialogue illustrates:

13. FLUNKY: The chancellor is demanding to see you, Prime Minister.
14. ME: Yesh, he can be very demanding, can’t he? (slaps thigh) Hic.
15. FLUNKY: Very droll, Prime Minister. Now, Mr Brown wants to call you -
16. ME: I’d rather not hear what Mr Brown wantsh to call me, thank you Jon! (doubles up, thumps desktop) Now pour me another G&T, there’sh a good chap.
17. FLUNKY: You slay me, sir. Will you have Gordon’s?
18. ME: Might as well - the po-faced drip never touches the shtuff! (falls off chair, rolls on floor laughing) Go on, pour one for yourshelf, why doncha?

19. It’s the way I tell ‘em.
20. But let us not dwell on a cold, festering lunatic whom, with hindsight, a lesser man might have kept from single-handedly destroying the economy and the Labour Party’s chances of getting elected for a decade or more.
21. 1997, eh?
22. This was not a win.
23. It was a landslide.
24. Which is a win.
25. But I’m writing for effect.
26. Clever, eh?
27. Moving swiftly on, the death of Diana immediately struck me as an event which would determine the very future of Britain.
28. I was prime minister, you know.
29. I had to work out how it would work out.
30. Make of that what you will.
31. Finally, let me just say that when I was asked which of the political leaders I had met had the most integrity, I listed George W. Bush near the top.
32. After me, of course.
33. Some people thought I was joking.
34. I never joke.
35. See vv.13-19.
36. He was, in a bizarre sense, a true idealist.
37. Make of that what you will.

Britain And France May Share Bath

No comment so far from the Admiralty

Britain is seriously considering the once-unthinkable possibility of inviting France to join it in the bath, enabling the two most self-important nations in Europe to play with each other’s toy boats.

“I want some proper toy aircraft carriers - the ones I’ve got are only pretend ones ‘cos I just took the tops off some of my frigates,” said seven-year-old defence secretary Liam Fox, as he splashed around in his tub. “But daddy Dave and mummy Nick say they can’t afford to pay for two new aircraft carriers and hot water as well. So they said if I want to carry on playing I’ll have to share my boats with that Nicolas Sarkozy next door.”

“I don’t like him though, ‘cos he’s really stuck up and he smells,” added little Liam. “But I really, really, really want some aircraft carriers, or I won’t have a proper navy at all.”

Meanwhile, the little Sarkozy boy expressed doubts about sharing his proper aircraft carrier.

“I ‘ave not forgotten zat ze last time ze British asked if zey could share my toy boats, zey suddenly changed ze rules and broke zem,” he pointed out sulkily. “Besides, I ‘ave nevair, evair used my boats in ze bath. Zey are immaculate, and I put zem on ze mantelpiece to show zem off.”

“Besides, ‘ave you seen ze murky waters in ze British bath recently?” he continued. “I would probably come out smelling worse zan when I got in.”

Planning Authorities Should Be Replaced By Unabashed Bribery, Says Think Tank

12 grand per yokel ought to cover this nicely

Council planning departments could be shut down, announced think-tank Policy Exchange today, if developers were simply allowed to bribe local residents.

“We currently labour under an outdated planning system where expensive planning officers keep sticking their oar in, constantly moaning about irrelevant rubbish like ‘street scene’, ‘severe access problems’ and ‘conservation areas’, and spouting incomprehensible jargon like ‘inappropriate’, ‘sprawl’ and ‘blight’,” explained the report’s editor, Natalie Evans. “All of this gets in the way of developers plonking down whatever they want, wherever they like. And they assure me that what they desperately want to build - more than anything else in the world - is dirt cheap housing for first-time buyers, and absolutely not hugely profitable holiday homes for the rich.”

“Why on earth can’t these speculative philanthropists simply dole out huge wads of cash to everyone in the area, enabling them all to move away before the place is covered in multi-storey apartments?” she implored. “That seems much fairer to me. I’ve got my eye on a nice spot down in Mevagissey, but for some reason those tiresome jobsworths at Cornwall County Council keep refusing to grant planning permission for a tasteful eight-storey apartment block overlooking the picturesque 18th-century harbour.”

Mandelson Kicks Disinterred Grandfather To Bits

Not a metaphor for the state of the party at all

The corpse of the highly-respected Labour visionary, Herbert Morrison, was today exhumed and kicked to pieces by his grandson, Lord Mandelson, in response to a promise from leadership candidate Miliband Two to take the party beyond its “New Labour comfort zone”.

A key architect of the radical Labour manifesto which swept the party to power in 1945, Mr Morrison rose from humble beginnings as an errand boy in Lambeth to become deputy to prime minister Clement Attlee, overseeing sweeping social reforms which improved ordinary people’s lives beyond all recognition.

“Bollocks to all that socialist nonsense,” shouted Lord Mandelson hoarsely, as he kicked his grandfather’s skull off. “If little Miliband Minor, Fatso Hattersley or that baldy Welsh windbag whose name we don’t mention wants to create a pre-New Labour future for the party, then he and the rest of them will quickly find this happening to them, too.”

W. Ankr Rose Declares ‘War’ On Festivals

It's past your bedtime, grandad

Guns N’Roses singer W. Ankr Rose today declared war on Leeds and Reading, after organisers dared to ask his band to shut the fuck up, or there might never be another Leeds Festival.

After killing the festival mood stone dead by leaving fans waiting for half an hour while Ankr’s ego was pumped up to the size of a zeppelin, the has-been band eventually plodded noisily through their tired back catalogue, droning on for twenty tedious minutes past the already-extended curfew before coming back on stage to piss all over the festival some more.

The incident followed similar behaviour the day before at the Reading Festival, where Guns N’Roses sauntered onstage an hour late after Ankr’s head became stuck in a door.

A toy thrown from Ankr’s stretch pram later contained a scathing message to the festival’s organisers, informing them that if people were so concerned over a little bit of noise late at night, “they shoulda evacuated their shitty little towns and villages for the weekend.”

Festival boss Melvin Benn responded by pointing out that Mr Rose’s inability to read a watch had jeopardised the entire future of both events by flouting the agreed curfew, as other acts half his age shook their heads sadly and commented that 48 was a bit old to still be acting like a spotty teenager.

A purple-faced Mr Ankr replied by deploying his guns along the A1(M) close to the Leeds festival site, from where they began firing at crews who were dismantling the main stage. Meanwhile, his bomber fleet dropped deadly clusters of roses between Hare Hatch and Kiln Green, littering the site of the Reading Festival with petals.

‘I Live In A Dream,’ Glenn Beck Tells Far Rights Rally

Glenn Beck explains that the venue and timing are a complete coincidence

Led by the visionary talk show host Glenn Beck, tens of thousands of patriotic Fox News Channel viewers rallied in Washington today, urging the federal government to give them more far rights.

“It is not for me to proclaim that I am the new George Washington, Abraham Lincoln or Martin Luther King,” proclaimed Mr Beck, standing before the six-metre-high statue of Abraham Lincoln at the very same Lincoln Memorial in Washington, DC where Dr King gave his epochal ‘I have a dream’ speech exactly 47 years ago to the day. “So, please, I implore you all to banish any such thoughts from your conscious minds."

This is not Glenn Beck

“I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in tonight’s Fox News as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation,” declared the veteran extreme rights campaigner. “7½ score years ago a great American, in whose symbolically white shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. But one hundred years and fifty later, the White man still is not as free as he’d like to be. One hundred and fifty years later, the life of the White is still sadly crippled by the manacles of non-segregation and the chains of positive discrimination. One hundred and fifty years later, the White lives on a lonely island of prosperity in the midst of a vast ocean of material poverty. One hundred and fifty years later, the White is still languished in the centre of American society and finds himself an exile in his own head. And so we've come here today to fictionalize a shameful condition.

Neither is this

“It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment,” he continued, his voice carefully modulated to sound like heartfelt emotion. “This sweltering summer of the White's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom from equality. Two thousand ten is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the White needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the White is granted his extreme rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of injustice re-emerges.

“Some of you have come fresh with narrow brain cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of imaginary persecution and staggered by the winds of presidential blackality. You have been the veterans of self-created suffering. Continue to work with the faith that imagined suffering is redemptive. Go back to Austin, go back to Atlanta, go back to Oklahoma City, go back to Colorado Springs, go back to Dallas, go back to the suburbs and condos of our southern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.

“And so, even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still live in a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

And this sure as hell ain't

“I live in a dream where one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that only White men are created equal.’

“I live in a dream where one day on the black-infested hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves will once again wait humbly on the sons of former slave owners at the table of the White brotherhood.

“I live in a dream where children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the content of their character, but by the milky color of their skin.

“This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to Rupert Murdoch with,” concluded a triumphant Mr Beck, to massed cheers. “With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of White brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to watch Fox TV together, to go to a lynching together, to string up a negro president who’s almost certainly a secret Islamist together, knowing that we will be free one day.”

“And now over to Sarah Palin for the weather. Stormy days ahead, right, Sarah?”