Does The Daily Mail Really Sum Up Everything That’s Wrong With Modern Society?

Exhibit A

By Kim Kardashian

The Daily Mail is the poster girl for 'almost everything that is wrong with Western society', according to a leading celebrity.

The paper is part of a culture that glorifies women's physical appearances over their character, claims Dr Kim Kardashian, in a story the Mail will run under a picture of her in her underwear.

“It is not too strong a statement, I venture to suggest, to say that almost everything that is wrong with Western society today can be summed up in about 200 symbolic photos every day of celebrity tits, legs and arses plastered all over the Mail Online website,” Dr Kardashian will say. “The descent of Western civilisation can practically be read into every curve, of which, you will note, there are indeed many. Is this what we want our young people to aim for? Is this what success should mean to them?”

“What is the Mail telling our young people about life? As a society, we have clearly attached a value to it,” she will say. “There may be some lies about the unemployed, cancer or house prices buried in there somewhere – I expect Paul Dacre has to shout ‘Cunt!’ at Peter Hitchens, Jan Moir, Richard Littlejohn, Stephen Glover and Melanie Phillips every day to keep his arses in shape – but these are very hidden lies, buried under the other lies surrounded by glitz and sparkle.”

Jimmy Carr's Post-Ironic Humour Masterclass

Nobody Threatening To Kill Anyone For Wanting $100k Handbag

After receiving death threats for hacking a $100,000 Hermes Birkin handbag apart with a chainsaw and setting fire to it on her reality TV show, Clint Eastwood’s daughter Franscesca says she is still no closer to discovering why nobody has been marked for death for wanting to waste $100,000 on one in the first place.

Hoo-ee, gals, we's gonna have us a lynchin'!

“Ma paw blowed millions to keep Sondra Locke a-hangin’ on his arm, but wun’t nobody tol’ him he was gonna die for it,” pouted the 18-year-old model. “An’ hell, she could be -and was - comprehensively out-acted by a goddam gibberin’ monkey. Reckon them death threats is a-comin’ from jealous Hermes customers who done staked their claim on these here bags an’ are still waitin’ on a delivery.”

Mr Eastwood, meanwhile, vowed to track down the low-down dirty scum who threatened his purty daughter and bring them to justice.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he sneered. “Being as this is a $100k Hermes, the most power-dressing handbag in the world, and would blow your neighbours clean away, you've got to ask yourself one question: Do I feel needy? Well, do ya, punk?”

Nev Filter Signs Deal With Daily Mail

Nev, the unimpeachable paragon of satire, proudly announced today that he has signed a lucrative deal with Associated Newspapers to pen a regular column about house prices for his long-standing nemesis, the Daily Mail. The Nev Filter’s fans both expressed their surprise at the unexpected development by fainting dead away.

Perhaps Nev will buy a field - ideally, one with a tree in it

The idealistic author of such scathing articles as ‘Daily Mail Now Openly Admitting That It Makes Stuff Up’, ‘Decent, Hard-Working Families Exposed As Spiteful Daily Mail-Reading Desk Jockeys Contemplating Divorce’ and ‘Daily Mail Demands Dangerous Frogs Act For Snarling Sarkozy’ pointed out that the cynical posturing of the Daily Mail as the nation’s self-appointed arbiter of absolute morality was, in fact, an exact match for his own position.

The Nev Filter’s new allegiance comes hot on the heels of Private Eye’s staunch front-cover defence of Rebekah Brooks, but was overshadowed by Chris Morris’ surprise announcement that he is moving to the United States to become the lead anchor for Fox News Channel.

“It’s not about the money,” insisted Nev loftily, “Although I wouldn’t put it entirely beyond the theoretical bounds of possibility that I might find some small use for it.”

Recession Ends As Blue People Win Thing

Shiny thing make it all better

The British public were still dancing deliriously in every street up and down the land this morning after blue-shirted people won a shiny thing and red-shirted people didn’t, causing the recession to disappear forever.

Not in other news:

Europe Reverts To Hunter-Gatherer Existence 

NHS Abolished 

Badgers Awarded Benefits As Disabled Cull Begins

Fire Hose Up Arse Makes Cowell’s Dead Eyes Revolve Like Fruit-Machine Reels

Cowell's enema face

According to the must-read book serialisation of the century, brought to a grateful and eager nation by the Sun, Simon Cowell’s soulless cadaver is routinely reanimated by the appliance of high-pressure water hoses to the rectum of his decaying corpse.

“Every Saturday morning we receive a hoarse, rasping call from beyond, requesting the urgent services of a water appliance at a residential property in West London,” explained a spokesman for the London Fire Brigade. “It may seem a gross misuse of our resources to pump 600psi up Simon Cowell’s jacksie until laser beams shoot out of his eyes, but the lads have checked the small print of their employment contracts and, technically, bringing the Lord of TV Darkness back from the underworld counts as a lifesaving act.”

“Our crews were never trained to handle a situation as traumatic as this. The chief’s recommending the poor buggers for bravery medals,” he said, adding: “If Cowell kept a Minogue handy in a glass case, he wouldn’t need our help at all.”

Depp and Portman Sign For Help In McCartney Hostage Video

After studying the latest video footage from supervillian Paul McCartney, sign language experts today confirmed that Hollywood actors Johnny Depp and Natalie Portman, whilst pretending to comply with his sick demands, are heroically issuing cleverly-coded messages of defiance instead.

In his cruel video message, evil mastermind McCartney forces his captives to sign the words of ‘My Valentine’, his latest hysterical threat to world peace. However, the resourceful Depp brilliantly subverts his tormentor’s twisted message by signing ‘enemy’ instead of declaring his love for the aged Scouse maniac - whilst Portman, movingly, begs Western leaders to parachute in a fresh supply of humanitarian jam rags.

Depp: "Kill me. Kill me now"

“Our brave boy and girl have highlighted the sheer hypocrisy of McCartney,” explained an expert in being deaf. “By exploiting the differences between American and British Sign Language, they have fearlessly exposed his cynical ignorance of the very issue he professes to care so deeply about.”

"What gives McCartney the right to inflict his nonsense on deaf people too?" he demanded plaintively. “When will the UN authorise the use of force?”

ITV Launches ‘Celebrity Knocking Shop’

The Saturday evening ratings war today entered a frightening new ‘shock and awe’ phase, with ITV bosses hoping to smash BBC1’s The Arse with Simon Cowell’s ultra-raunchy, no-holes-barred Celebrity Knocking Shop.

“The idea first came to me in 2007, as I was surreptitiously working my hand up Dannii Minogue in front of ten million viewers while Leon Jackson got her in the mood,” explained TV’s leading starfucker. “I thought to myself, ‘Crikey, we could get a fantastic climax if the desk suddenly fell away.’ I’m sure Dannii would have been up for it, although I never actually spoke to her about it.”

Mr Cowell and a fearsome-looking sex toy

“I never spoke to her at all, actually,” he added. “Her irritating yap would only have distracted me from coating her hair, her sexy clothes and her rubber tits with ‘Simon’s wonder drops’.”

Cowell later researched the potential of his new ratings magnet, he revealed proudly, by wearing Cheryl Cole as a cocksleeve in front of Natalie Imbruglia and handing her a questionnaire.

Deluded members of the public will be invited to sing, dance and play piano on Celebrity Knocking Shop in order to inflate Mr Cowell’s sack to bursting point, whilst he bangs his way through the celebrity C-list.

A defiant BBC spokesman later commented that Tom Jones was definitely up for tugging furiously at ‘Little Tom’ whilst imagining naked showbiz novices gyrating lasciviously behind him.

“In fact, he’s been doing it for weeks already,” he elaborated.

It’s OK to Offend People, Mumbles String-Haired Seppo Airhead

Singer, actor, vajazzle installation pioneer

Ribena - a blaring mouth on legs who genuinely believes her ‘Straw Man goes to Belsen’ look is not only morally acceptable, but also in some way desirable – today informed millions of mystified BBC viewers that it is perfectly OK to offend people, but only if you have a silly name and make a comfortable living by prancing about in front of young children in your knickers.

“For a minute there, I thought this incoherent stick person was blurting out some sort of impassioned defence of free speech,” said a spokesman for freedom-of-expression campaign group The Manifesto Club. “But no, apparently not. When expert sound engineers edited out all the grunting noises, the few words that remained claim that thrusting her fadge in your kids’ faces whilst wearing a pair of fishnets and nothing else is at the cutting edge of Art, and anyone who's worried that their pre-teen daughter might do likewise is Stalin on steroids.”

“Oh, and it seems Ribena would very much like an Oscar for dressing up in a $200m game of snakes and ladders, or some such rubbish,” he added. “On the plus side, I gather she’ll be keeping her Aunt Jemima covered up for a full hour and a quarter. So that’s a first.”

Tulisa Sex Tape Gives Cowell Worst Idea Yet

Ahem

The sex tape of X-Factor judge Tulisa Cuntostavlos which, by the damnedest coincidence, happened to surface on the internet just in time for the launch of her debut solo single is disappointingly shonky, but nevertheless a bloody good reason to keep her on the panel, says TV overlord Satan Cowell - adding that it has inspired him to develop an entirely new format which will further hasten his carefully-planned apocalypse.

“I urge every bird who is fit as fuck, at least in her own little mind, to send me her sex tape,” leered the unholy multi-millionaire who has somehow gained complete mastery of the world’s tellies. “The most disgusting – and I do mean that in every possible sense of the word – will result in an invitation to debase yourself live on stage in my latest masterpiece of broadcasting, The XXX Factor.”

The Cowell thing is already recruiting a judging panel of drooling Z-list has-beens whose careers have reached the point at which they will actually be glad of the opportunity to pollute themselves into a communal bucket for the amusement of idiots.

“Noel Edmonds is quite keen,” he smirked. “Half a pint keen so far, in fact, and he hasn't even seen any tapes yet.”

A spokesman for Ofcom, the body which is nominally responsible for maintaining some sort of standards on TV, said: “On the one hand this is the worst kind of cynical exploitation of human folly, the merest channel-hopping glimpse of which will surely degrade and corrupt viewers into a state of permanent imbecility. On the other hand our demon lord has decreed it. So it’ll be on ITV, seven o’clock tomorrow evening. Don’t miss it.”

First World Holds Breath Over Dreadful Hobbit Threat

How can a loving creator sit idly by and let such things happen?

The first world’s attention remains totally focused on the desperate humanitarian struggle for the name of a pub in Southampton today as - following a heartfelt plea for sanity and compassion to prevail, from a man who asks pointless questions for a living - a man who dresses up for a living became the latest statesmanlike figure to step forward and attempt to solve the greatest first world problem in history.

The man who dresses up is already acquainted with the man who asks questions, as both of them are involved in telling a story with moving pictures. Both men promised an anxious first world that, the moment they have finished their storytelling, they will definitely undertake a fact-finding mission to Southampton and experience at first hand a pint of warm, watery beer at the critically-endangered pub.

Britain On Brink Of Civil War Between Fans Of Adele And Blur

War is declared

Battle lines are being rapidly drawn throughout Britain today, after Adele’s planned Brit Awards rant against the music-industry “suits” who plucked her from obscurity was sensationally cut short last night to allow fellow millionaires Blur to plod through their grandad-pleasing set, with families being rent asunder by sharply-divided loyalties which threaten to pit fathers against daughters and sons against mothers.

“I applaud Adele’s brave and principled stance against the penis-waving music moguls who cynically showered her with awards just to shift units and make her a household name,” said Berkshire mum Jen Hayes, who has annexed all the cutlery in preparation for a long and bloody conflict. “And if that stupid husband of mine utters another word about Damon bloody All-Bran he’ll be spending his nights on the living-room sofa from now on, trying to cuddle up to the dog.”

Her 14-year-old son Josh has already suffered the tragic loss of both testicles on the way to school, after suicidally telling elder sister Chelsea that the only similarity between Adele and R&B legend Aretha Franklin is their dress size.

Sky Bids For Exclusive Rights To Chisora-Haye Gunfight

Broadcasters are desperately trying to outbid each other for the TV rights to the forthcoming shoot-out between British boxing rivals Dereck Chisora and David Haye, following their exhilarating display of top-level professional brawling at a press conference in Germany.

Don't miss the highlights on Sky Sports 1

The date and venue for the thrilling display of world-class marksmanship are undecided at the moment, with experts urging both participants to arrange their eagerly-anticipated deathmatch before one or both participants is jailed by the German authorities.

“As da challenged party, Haye gots da privilege of nominatin’ toasters,” explained a spokesman for the World Duelling League from the organisation’s headquarters in Corcoran State Prison, California. “He might, fo sho, be choosin’ da traditional option of rapiers, but today’s discerning sport hos is wantin’ automatic weapons and fast whips. For me, da dope biscuit gots to be – and indeed has been - a Uzi nina outa da back seat of a Lex.”

“I don’t know what kind of pussy wheels ma limey dogs gots, though,” he admitted. “How much rubber can a Mini burn when you rollin’ outa a 187?”

Guilt-Ridden Costner Vows To Avenge Whitney Houston By Sailing World’s Oceans Until He Tracks Down Evil Sheriff Of Nottingham

Not actually a suspect at this time, say LA police

Wracked by guilt over failing to prevent Whitney Houston’s tragic death because he is only a fading Hollywood celebrity and not actually a real bodyguard at all, a tearful Kevin Costner today told the singer’s grieving family and fans that he has acquired a trimaran, and will not rest until he tracks down the wicked Sheriff of Nottingham and slays him, bringing peace at last to the ocean realm.

“During the long years of my quest I shall be accompanied by a faithful pet wolf,” sobbed Costner, who cannot breathe underwater and is a terrible shot with a bow and arrow. “I hope my wolf will help me to eventually come to terms with my overwhelming feelings of remorse and give me some sort of closure, through the healing power of interpretative dance.”

Government To Terrorise Cities With Mary Portas

Local government minister Gimp Shitts today unveiled a threat to pull the names of twelve unfortunate cities out of a hat, and inflict Mary Portas on them.

Attack of the 50ft harridan

“The problem facing Britain’s high streets is that there are simply not enough shops selling posh frocks and painful shoes to young women,” crowed Mr Shitts, as he gleefully scribbled the names of every provincial shithole in Britain on a sheet of A4 and tore it into strips with a ruler.

“The key to regenerating these ghastly northern toilets is a thorough bullying from an acid-tongued battleaxe,” he enthused. “In the old days this role was performed admirably by Mrs Thatcher, but she’ll be raving about the inaccuracies in Meryl Streep’s hairdo for the rest of her twilight years. Fortunately, in Britain’s hour of need, another bitter old hag who knows more about everything than anyone else has emerged to save us from ruin.”

“The only way the chosen victims will be ever able to rid themselves of the baleful presence of Mary Portas,” he warned, “Is to give in immediately to her demands. No matter how malicious, petty, short-sighted, counter-productive or self-defeating they may appear to – or, indeed - be.”

Record Label In Search For Lowest Publicity Stunt

Classical music label Decca has launched a global search for the deepest human voice ever heard, after composer and idiot Paul Mealor squeezed out a piece which is physically impossible to sing.

“Mr Mealor was famous for five minutes when a tribe of squaddies’ cockwarmers wailed their way to the top of the Christmas charts with his profound meditation on separation and loss, ‘Whoever You Are’ , so obviously we need to cash in fast before his name drops out of the back of your head forever,” said a Decca spokesman. “Unfortunately, the only thing this fucktard’s managed to bang out since Christmas demands the services of a vocalist with a throat the size of a hatchback. And, unless we can teach a whale to sing in Latin, there’s nothing in the natural world which can hit three octaves below middle E.”

This does not exist, and neither do computers

“Fortunately for us, voice-transforming gadgets have been available cheaply since 1996 so, from a technical point of view, it’s not really a problem,” he added. “And they work in real-time, too, so that covers the quick cash-in tour - which is how we usually try to recoup the cost of recording a CD nobody is ever going to buy. But then we came up with this brilliant idea for a publicity stunt. Here goes.”

“Ahem. Dis shout going out to anybody what gots a throat the size of a fanny magnet,” he warned the public. “Bluds! Bluds! All you gots to do is convince yourself your bath-time grunts is like waaay better than the perfectly-modulated tonality of a trained world-class professional, then tell all your chav mates with wicked sound systems in their wheelz that you is be shouting out to all your homeys on the long-playing Decca release of da hipster Paul Mealor’s subwoofa-pumpin’ ‘De Profundis’ innit.”

“Standard,” he added shiftily.

Joey The Horse Cited In Brand-Perry Divorce Papers, Found Stoned On Hollywood Boulevard, Makes Anti-Semitic Remarks To Arresting Officer, Hopes To Branch Into Directing

It's the same, sorry tale of Hollywood excess

Looking dishevelled and ungroomed, ‘War Horse’ top movie star Joey the Horse held a press conference today to apologise for the bizarre outburst he whinnied angrily at a police officer who arrested him yesterday - for staggering down Hollywood Boulevard, high as a kite on sugar lumps - in which he claimed that the Jews were responsible for all war films.

“I have been under terrific strain lately,” Joey neighed to Tinseltown hacks. “I’ve been cited as a co-respondent in the Russell Brand and Katy Perry divorce – I’m not at liberty to say who with – and I confess that I have fallen victim to a terrible addiction to nosebag candy.”

Joey added that, after detoxing at the Vetty Ford Clinic, he hopes to get behind the cameras to direct ‘Race Boy’, a moving tale of a magnificent chestnut farmer who is cruelly drafted into an inequine steeplechase run by criminally incompetent donkeys.

“Of course, the scenes of slaughter where thousands and thousands of brave but uncomprehending humans are callously ordered over the top of the hurdles by their asinine generals will be harrowing to watch,” promised Joey, “But that’s not really at the heart of the film. In fact, it’s not important at all. What matters is that, against 100-1 odds, the plucky farmer wins the race - only to face the knacker’s yard afterwards.”

Cliff Alive And Available For Weddings, Funerals, Bar Mitzvahs

Sir Cliff Richard today reminded the public that he is still very much alive, and would very much welcome the opportunity to sing at your special occasion.

Sir Cliff can bring his own backcloth, too, for added glitz

“I can bring my own amp and backing tape and everything,” promised the lizard-throated God botherer. “Very reasonable rates. Just sit me next to a mains socket and I can set up in a jiffy. Perhaps you’re organising the office Christmas party this evening, and Lady Gaga has cancelled at the last minute. Give me a call. Please. I can definitely fit you in.”

For an extra fiver, Sir Cliff says he will also chuck in Una Stubbs.

“And I promise not to bang on about Jesus,” he added earnestly. “Not while the mic’s plugged in, anyway.”

Talking Dog To Split

It's Amy Winehouse all over again

YouTube’s sensational talking dog today shocked fans by announcing that he is breaking up at the peak of his career.

“I need some time out to deal with my sudden rise to fame,” explained the dog celebrity. “I will be checking into the Priory clinic to deal with my food addiction issues, and when I am recovered I shall be looking at various media career options. Presenting Daybreak on ITV is just one exciting possibility I’ll be exploring.”

Meanwhile, a radiant Katie Price told reporters she is expecting the dog’s child.

Supervillain Widdicombe Unveils Diabolical Plan For World Domination

"Bwa-ha-ha-ha"

Driven criminally insane by David Cameron’s refusal to elevate her to what she believes, in her madness, to be her rightful place in the House of Lords – and, of course, by forty years of towering sexual frustration and Toryism – cackling former MP Ann Widdicombe hideously burst through the global airwaves this morning to announce her devious plot to become head of the entire world.

“Cameron, you beastly little cad, you’ve been very naughty!” she shrilled, as frightened viewers cowered behind their sofas. “Behold, I have already succeeded in dominating the minds of millions of silly modern women, by clumping my way through Strictly Come Dancing in a manner they found inexplicably endearing – entirely wiping from their pretty, empty heads all recollection of my vociferous enthusiasm for foxhunting, banning abortion and making non-attendance at evensong a hanging offence.”

As panic spread from nation to powerless nation, the newly-self-styled ‘Matron’ screeched into the bleeding ears of whimpering captive Fern Britton: “Either the rotter Cameron resigns within the hour and grants me the launch codes for Britain’s holy nuclear missiles, or I shall be forced to take part in Celebrity Big Brother on Channel 5, where I shall not hesitate to disport myself stark naked in the shower room before the blistering eyes of a shrieking world.”