Friday, 7 October 2011

Governor Jumps Off Bank Of England

Mr King's final uplifting message to Britain
Bank of England governor Mervyn King has raised speculation in some quarters that Britain’s glorious economic resurgence may not be as imminent as was previously believed, by leaping off the roof and plummeting to a merciful release on the pavement below.

Just before he stepped off the ledge into oblivion, Mr King was heard to scream: “This is the most serious financial crisis we've seen at least since the 1930s, if not ever.”

Shocked staff inside the crumbling Threadneedle Street edifice say they are struggling to keep sobbing executives from Lloyds TSB, RBS, Santander UK and the Nationwide Building Society from entering lifts or climbing the emergency stairs to the top floor.

Meanwhile, chancellor of the exchequer George Osborne was last seen dragging a bulging suitcase through the air tunnel onto a flight to South America, leaving behind a trail of Monopoly banknotes on which the ink was still wet.

Fox Orders Investigation To Tell Him Why He Keeps Inviting His Mate Along To Sensitive Defence Meetings

Swivel-eyed defence secretary Dr Liam Fox has ordered an official investigation to tell him why on earth he keeps inviting the best man at his wedding along to important defence meetings and foreign trips, after it emerged that Adam Werrity-Dodgity – who has no security clearance - has tagged along for 14 top-level meetings at the MoD headquarters and was handing out House of Commons business cards claiming to be Dr Fox’s advisor during his official visit to Sri Lanka.

Mr Werrity-Dodgity has been reluctant to give interviews
By sheer coincidence Mr Werrity-Dodgity - a former flatmate of Dr Fox - also happened to be the sole employee of Atlantic Bridge, a right-wing organisation set up by the defence secretary with Baroness Thatcher as its patron, whose purpose was to foster close links between leading neo-conservatives on both sides of the Atlantic, and which was shut down last month by the Charities Commission following a deeply critical investigation into its activities.

“Right now, I simply haven’t the faintest idea why I keep Mr Werrity-Dodgity closer to me than my own shadow,” explained Dr Fox, sweating heavily. “I am rather hoping that this top-level internal inquiry will come up with something plausible.”

He then terminated the interview somewhat abruptly, pointing to the sky and shouting “look at that interesting thing” before running away and diving head-first into a black Cadillac with darkened windows, which happened to be driving slowly by with its back door open.

Thursday, 6 October 2011

Apple Founder In Fundamental Design Flaw Recall

Millions of people who are way cooler than you and I are deeply traumatised by the announcement that Apple founder Steve Jobs has been recalled by his maker over a basic design flaw which they thought had been fixed.

“I really thought they’d sorted out the fault in my beautiful little object of desire last year,” blubbered Apple fanatic Uncle Stephen Fry, all over Twitter. “Not being particularly boffin-minded, I didn’t want to bother myself with what a pancreas even looks like, let alone how it works. I just expected it to do lots of clever stuff in the background. I never imagined it might be something which would seriously detract from my everyday appreciation of Steve, or the warm feeling of smug superiority which he generously deigned to bestow upon me.”

Master... master... why have you forsaken us, master?
Former NME scribe Tony Parsons, who has since made a name for himself writing stories in which the characters recite lists of all his favourite stuff, sobbed: “For me, this tragic Steve defect has taken all the joy out of: (1) the iPhone; (2) the iPad; (3) the MacBook; (4) the PowerBook; (5) a complete matched set of original iMacs; (6) the Performa; (7) the PowerMac (including G3, G4 and G5 models); (8) the Quadra; (9) the Centris; (10) the Xserve; and, last but not least, (11) the glorious Newton PDA.”

Lord Sugar of Amstrad, meanwhile, paid a moving tribute to himself and the shit he used to put his name on: “The peculiar drag-and-drop interface, unfamiliar 32-bit colour, awkward ‘mouse’ accessory and paltry internal hard drive of the Macintosh II very nearly gave my pioneering PCW8256 word processor, with its ground-breaking 80 columns of green text and unique 3” floppies, a run for the money. Jobs – you’re fried!”

Finally, it fell to the lyrical talents of Dannii Minogue to poignantly sum up the shattered emptiness suffered by millions of shiny-thing addicts, with her deeply touching elegy: “#SteveJobs RIP”.

An Apple disciple later reassured weeping worshippers of cheaply-made gadgets with a reassuringly expensive price tag that, on the third day, an immaculate Jobs2, 3 or even 4s would rise again, rolling away the stone from the Foxconn crypt in China to hold out the redeeming promise of everlasting lifestyle accessories to his faithful followers.

Wednesday, 5 October 2011

World Economic Crisis Your Bloody Fault

The prime minister today explained that the catastrophic implosion of the entire global economy was entirely down to you and your bloody credit cards, you silly sod.

You silly cow
“We're in a debt crisis,” admonished Mr Cameron. “It was caused by too much borrowing by businesses, banks, Labour governments - but most of all, you. The only way out of a debt crisis is to deal with your debts. That means households – i.e. you lot - paying off the credit card and store card bills. Now.”

“You stupid, stupid bastards,” he added.

Mr Cameron’s advice for a speedy return to happy days is for you to stop buying stuff.

“The banks simply had no alternative but to keep extending your credit limit again and again because of your reckless irresponsibility. Now look what you’ve done,” he scowled. “Fancy buying things that weren’t absolutely essential to your continued existence, just because you wanted them. Like iPhones. And digital televisions. And furniture. And clothes. What the hell were you thinking? Idiots.”

The prime minister warned that if you didn’t settle your massive debts by the end of the month, he would be forced to send the bailiffs round to every household in the country to seize everything in your home and give it all to the poor, suffering banks. And serve you right.

Murdoch Family and Friends To Voice Simpsons

After awarding himself a massive 47% pay rise this year, taking his salary to a thoroughly-deserved $33m in recognition of his expert management of his tightly-run media empire, News Corp boss Rupert Murdoch warned that its Fox subsidiary would no longer be able to waste $8m a year on a bunch of jobbing actors whose only talent is to read Simpsons scripts in a variety of silly voices.
Rupert Murdoch announces his pay rise
“Crikey, any drongo can do that,” said Mr Murdoch, announcing that he would be sacking the entire cast of the long-running series and replacing them with his own family and close associates.

“I like a challenge,” explained Mr Murdoch, “So I reckon I’ll have a crack at playing the talentless, dim head of a dysfunctional family. My fragrant kung fu lady Wendy will, of course play Marge. James is the obvious choice for that lovable rascal Bart. My highly-principled old pal Rebekah Brooks can bring all of her depth and gravitas to the part of Lisa, and young Liz can be Maggie. Crikey, I reckon this voice-acting lark is a piece of dingo’s piss.”

What you will hear:

(Simptons theme)
Marge: Hi, Homey, you back ealry! What happen?
Homer: Blimey, Wend, I came a bit of a gutser, and now the bloody plant’s melting down!
Marge: They sack you for being sirry breeder? Where divorce rawyer?
Homer: No worries, cook, there’s no need to get your clacker in a tangle! She’ll be apples. I awarded myself a performance bonus. Them dags’ll never suspect it was my fault!
Bart: Strategic multi-stranded path to explore, paternalistic role-play example!
Lisa: Oh, the shame! The shame!
Homer: Strewth, Lisa, me little ankle biter, here’s some pocket money. Will 3½ million do?
Lisa: I’m over it. (wanders off to spend more time with saxophone)
Maggie: Ptt-ptt.
Marge: Risten! Who knock on door?
Mr Burns and several hundred angry shareholders: Simpton, you no-hoper! I’m mad as a snake!
Homer: Eek!
Nelson: Ha, ha!

Tuesday, 4 October 2011

‘If A Terrorist Owns A Cat It’s Like Diplomatic Immunity,’ Insists Home Secretary, ‘Or Something’

Home secretary Theresa Maybe won a standing ovation today from the Tory faithful, as she warned conference delegates of the horrors of human rights.

“The uvva day, right, sam bladdy terrorist - I ain’t bein’ racist, but less just say ‘e wuz probly reekin’ uv curry know wot I mean – ‘e got nicked dinnee, for mowin’ down a busload uv kids wiv a machine gun or woteva, an’ when we tried to send ‘im ‘ome to whereva the bladdy ‘ell it is ‘e come from, ‘e pulls aht a bladdy cat - an’ blow me dan wiv a fevva, some prat in a wig sez well ‘e carn’t be deported canee cuz uv ‘is cat or summink,” she told her shocked audience.

Probably hidin' a bomb up its jacksy an' all, reckons Mrs May
“I in’t makin’ it up, I tell yer straight. Cross me art, iss Gawd’s own troof innit?” she insisted earnestly. “I ‘eard it off a coppa, an’ ‘e got it straight from one uv ‘is mates. Bladdy immigrant bastuds, ‘oo needs ‘em?”

A spokesman for the Judicial Office later pointed out that Mrs May was, in fact, making it up -or, in legal terminology, loquendo de toto testiculis.

“There was an immigrant who had outstayed his visa. He was Bolivian. He had a partner. He was in a permanent relationship of four years’ standing. He was granted leave to stay because, in trying to deport him, the Home Office had clearly failed to apply its own policy regarding a person’s basic right to a family life,” he sighed. “He did, in passing, mention his cat. That wasn’t actually a factor.”

Mrs May later admitted to the BBC that she had not actually bothered to check her facts before going off on a crazed rant in front of a crowd of impressionable Daily Mail readers.

“I wuz jass tellin’ a stawry, wunn I?” she added. “I dan’t need no facks gittin’ in the way uv a bladdy good yarn. I’m the bladdy ‘ome secketry, nah piss awf befaw I scrap the licence fee.”

Foxy Knoxy Can Come Round And Murder Us Any Time She Likes, Drool Journalists

“If you look as hot as Amanda Knox, who cares if you murdered some dowdy bint or not?” agreed every newspaper on both sides of the Atlantic today, after the totty in question was sensationally declared not guilty in Italy last night.

Now dry your eyes and get your baps out
The vital factor which has emerged since her initial conviction four years ago, according to the finest legal minds in the news industry, is that Miss Knox is one hot little minx who clearly loves a bit of it. Another vital piece of evidence that was missed – which was immediately obvious to America’s top commentators, but mysteriously overlooked by greasy, incompetent wop prosecutors - is that she is unmistakeably American.

The media world is now clamouring for the exclusive and unexpurgated publishing and film rights to every explicit detail of Miss Knox’s red-hot sex games, which may or may not have involved raunchily sticking a kitchen knife into some bird’s neck.

Her former boyfriend walked too, it seems, if anyone is interested. However, he is not nearly as photogenic - or indeed American - being nothing but an unappealingly hairy-arsed wop who will be lucky to get booked for Channel 5’s Celebrity Big Brother next year and is probably the real murderer anyway.

Monday, 3 October 2011

Modern Compassionate Conservatism: Cameron Explains Triple Oxymoron To Party Faithful

David Cameron has been explaining his bizarre, triply self-contradictory concept of ‘Modern Compassionate Conservatism’ to the party faithful at conference today, driving home his message by using an amusing assortment of disableds as props for added comic effect.

That's more like it
“First of all, I’d like to thank the local Jobcentre for sending me so many willing assistants,” he chuckled, raising his first laugh by snatching the wig off a depressed, retching chemotherapy outpatient and flinging it out into the baying crowd. “What a tremendous boost it must have been for your self-confidence, dear, when you heard that your ESA was being stopped because Atos Medical say that you’re perfecly fit and capable of work!”

As he drew a big clown’s smile on a bedridden MS victim with a red marker pen, the prime minister explained: “Old-fashioned compassion was all about feeling sorry for crips and spackers. For years, disableds have been saying they don’t want our pity. Well, they must be absolutely over the moon now that we Conservatives have abolished it.”

“Modern compassion the Conservative way is all about empowering the useless,” he went on, whilst hilariously mooning a blind man. ”And now that we’ve slashed their income, what greater way of seizing control of their own destinies could there be than taking the brave, unselfish decision to stop being a burden on their loved ones by topping themselves?”

Mr Cameron also spoke movingly of the jobs for which nutters were particularly adapted. “The police are always keen to recruit violent psychopaths into their Armed Response Units and riot squads,” he laughed, “And there are plenty of opportunities within the Liberal Democrats for simps and vegetables. Finally, let me end with an uplifting example of one loony’s triumph over adversity: being a paranoid schizophrenic and a compulsive liar with Tourette’s and messianic delusions have uniquely qualified Paul Dacre to edit the Daily Mail.”

Give Children The Chance To Go Up Chimneys At 14, Says Chris Dickhead

Young scum absolutely love a good clamber
Sir Chris Dickhead, the former head of Ofsted, has called on the government to stop pretending that a few more years at some tarted-up ‘academy’ school will somehow manage to pummel even the most basic literacy and numeracy into the desperately thick hellspawn who infest their corridors, and to cut their losses and kick them up the nearest chimney at 14 instead.

“You can keep these ghastly little inner-city shits in school till they’re 100: but, let’s face it, the best stab at literacy they’re ever going to manage is scrawling a rudimentary cock on the lavatory wall,” opined the greatest living expert on education. “The kindest thing would be to kick them out at 14 and send them up chimneys for a pound a day, or maybe use them as reactor shielding.”

Dickhead also bemoaned the government’s plans to encourage Britain’s public schools to sponsor ghastly state-run brat pens, warning: “The more that their luxurious facilities are cluttered up by low-pated scum from some nearby monkey pit, the less they are available for the fee-paying scions of the upper-middle classes and gentry."

"The only time these degenerate council-estate creatures should ever be seen in a public school science lab," he advised, "Is for a dissection experiment.”