Public anger over the continuing saga of MPs' expenses has boiled over - according to several polls - into widespread calls for an early election, in order to allow completely new set of MPs the chance to get their hands on those lovely expense claim forms.
"Puttin' a lot of new MPs in parliament will fix this mess, innit?" said leading opinion-former Joe Public today, when the Nev Filter caught up with him in the car park outside Sainsbury's. "I've really thought this through."
"Course, what I'd really like to do is flay the thick 'ide off my thieving bastud MP, yeah?, roll 'im in pepper and drag 'is raw, bleedin' carcass fru every street in town," he added. "But wouldn't you know it, they must of saw this coming, 'cos they passed a law against it years ago. So I reckon if we all vote the little shit out of office, 'e'll be so pissed off at bein' stitched up, e'll prob'ly 'ang 'isself. Then I reckon it'll be OK to flay the bugger, roll 'im in pepper and drag 'id raw, bleedin' carcass fru every street in town. Sorted. End of."
Mr Public also expressed his support for any independent candidate, no matter who they were or how barmy. Constitutional experts, however, were dubious that a ballot paper four yards long would change anything - pointing out that, in all likelihood, they would simply split any protest vote between themselves, and thus traditional party candidates would still get elected.
"Of course, we could all be wrong. If Gordon Brown changes the habits of a lifetime and listens to public opinion, a snap election could theoretically see a parliament dominated by a bickering rabble of random fuckwits who, lacking any coherent policies or means of formulating any, will probably drag the basic mechanisms on which the day-to-day running of the nation depends to a crashing halt within weeks, if not days," said an acknowledged expert on constitutional matters, Mrs Elizabeth Windsor. "In desperation, the people will then turn to the one authority figure who retains any last vestige of credibility."
"Not you, Charles," she added.
When these dire warnings were put to Mr Public, he replied, "Woteva," and headed off in search of a three-for-two offer on Carling.
Saturday, 23 May 2009
Pope Swaps Promise of Next World For Triviality of Virtual World
Skipping boldly past the Age of Enlightenment, the Industrial Revolution and the rise of humanist thinking, the Pope has led the Roman Catholic Church forward into the digital age by joining the social networking site, Facebook.
The Vatican will be holding a World Communications Day tomorrow, said the secretary of its Social Communications Department, Monsignor Paul Tighe.
"Young people today are not turning to traditional media like newspapers, magazines and encyclicals any more for information, enlightenment and a crushing sense of guilt and fear," he screamed. "And we Catholic priests are very keen on young people, you know."
His Holiness has already been busy getting to grips with cyberspace, sending friend invitations to the 475 Jesus Christs already on Facebook. He is also busy filling the homepages of the web-wise faithful with a relentless barrage of half-assed quiz results.
So far, Pope Benedict has thrilled his loyal cyberflock with the good news that:
- he is Marge Simpson ("big on family values, and very traditional");
- his parents should have named him Annie ("You are nice, caring and you love being with your friends");
- the first person he will marry will have a name beginning with G ("VERY hot!");
- he has a 98% chance of surviving a Zombie infection ("You would be the one to survive, and bring more with you. No one can stop you!");
- he would be a good assassin ("Yes, of course! You are a fanatical, Nazi-trained heavy weapons expert");
- Jesus would think he was a shithead.
The Vatican will be holding a World Communications Day tomorrow, said the secretary of its Social Communications Department, Monsignor Paul Tighe.
"Young people today are not turning to traditional media like newspapers, magazines and encyclicals any more for information, enlightenment and a crushing sense of guilt and fear," he screamed. "And we Catholic priests are very keen on young people, you know."
His Holiness has already been busy getting to grips with cyberspace, sending friend invitations to the 475 Jesus Christs already on Facebook. He is also busy filling the homepages of the web-wise faithful with a relentless barrage of half-assed quiz results.
So far, Pope Benedict has thrilled his loyal cyberflock with the good news that:
- he is Marge Simpson ("big on family values, and very traditional");
- his parents should have named him Annie ("You are nice, caring and you love being with your friends");
- the first person he will marry will have a name beginning with G ("VERY hot!");
- he has a 98% chance of surviving a Zombie infection ("You would be the one to survive, and bring more with you. No one can stop you!");
- he would be a good assassin ("Yes, of course! You are a fanatical, Nazi-trained heavy weapons expert");
- Jesus would think he was a shithead.
Friday, 22 May 2009
Ancient Curse of Steen May Be Lifted, Promises Cloven-Hoofed Party Leader
Conservative leader David Cameron has threatened an MP who accused his villagers of "jealousy" with expulsion from the party of darkness if steps out of line again.
Count Anthony Dracula - who has claimed over 87,000 pints of blood from virgins in his Totnesylvania constituency in the last four years - made his outspoken comments on Radio 4 yesterday.
"I think I have behaved impeccably," Count Anthony smiled, before sinking his fangs into the interviewer's neck. "I have done nothing criminal. And you know what it's about? Jealousy. I have got a very, very large castle."
"It was this government which introduced the Freedom of Virgins Act," he hissed, "And it was this government which insisted on the things which have caught me on the wrong foot - which if I'd been clever they wouldn't have done."
"Unfortunately I am very stupid," he added, before flying back to his mouldering pile, "And I am now at bay. Curses!"
The ancient count has been an MP in feudal South Devon since time immemorial, where his name is muttered fearfully as a curse to frighten children. However, the rustic villagers of his consituency are now so incensed by his unrepentant bloodsucking that they have gathered at the foot of his castle waving firebrands.
"Us'm starvin' to death in arr shit-walled 'ovels," shouted a ringleader, "While that there Count Anthony do spend ee's days a-lyin' in luxury in ee's foin noo rort-iron coffin, all a-paid fower by the blood of arr dorters!"
An ugly situation was defused, however, when Count Anthony's unholy lord and master, David Cameron, appeared in a puff of red smoke and reassured the irate yokels that any further acts of craven vampirism from the complete and utter Count would result in the permanent withdrawal of the party whip, and other instruments of torture.
Count Anthony Dracula - who has claimed over 87,000 pints of blood from virgins in his Totnesylvania constituency in the last four years - made his outspoken comments on Radio 4 yesterday.
"I think I have behaved impeccably," Count Anthony smiled, before sinking his fangs into the interviewer's neck. "I have done nothing criminal. And you know what it's about? Jealousy. I have got a very, very large castle."
"It was this government which introduced the Freedom of Virgins Act," he hissed, "And it was this government which insisted on the things which have caught me on the wrong foot - which if I'd been clever they wouldn't have done."
"Unfortunately I am very stupid," he added, before flying back to his mouldering pile, "And I am now at bay. Curses!"
The ancient count has been an MP in feudal South Devon since time immemorial, where his name is muttered fearfully as a curse to frighten children. However, the rustic villagers of his consituency are now so incensed by his unrepentant bloodsucking that they have gathered at the foot of his castle waving firebrands.
"Us'm starvin' to death in arr shit-walled 'ovels," shouted a ringleader, "While that there Count Anthony do spend ee's days a-lyin' in luxury in ee's foin noo rort-iron coffin, all a-paid fower by the blood of arr dorters!"
An ugly situation was defused, however, when Count Anthony's unholy lord and master, David Cameron, appeared in a puff of red smoke and reassured the irate yokels that any further acts of craven vampirism from the complete and utter Count would result in the permanent withdrawal of the party whip, and other instruments of torture.
World Sheds A Tear For Poor British Airways
The world burst into floods of tears today at the news that British Airways, its former favourite airline, was reporting an annual loss of £401m.
The lovable, cuddly airline blamed its fall from profitability on the cost of fuel, the weak pound, the recession, Satan and moonspots.
"This dramatic reversal of fortunes is certainly nothing to do with our policy of shamelessly milking travellers with eye-watering fares turning round and biting us on the bum," said chief executive Willie Warmer, who also announced that he would be foregoing a month's pay in July. "I shall just have to hope that the remaining £673,750 of my salary will tide me over."
British Airways has traditionally relied on charging astounding prices for business travellers' jollies, safe in the knowledge that their company expense accounts would pay up without batting an eyelid. However, industry analysts pointed out that the airline had failed to notice that there were no longer any businesses left in Britain.
Meanwhile, the world promised BA a nice ice lolly if it would just shut up for five minutes.
The lovable, cuddly airline blamed its fall from profitability on the cost of fuel, the weak pound, the recession, Satan and moonspots.
"This dramatic reversal of fortunes is certainly nothing to do with our policy of shamelessly milking travellers with eye-watering fares turning round and biting us on the bum," said chief executive Willie Warmer, who also announced that he would be foregoing a month's pay in July. "I shall just have to hope that the remaining £673,750 of my salary will tide me over."
British Airways has traditionally relied on charging astounding prices for business travellers' jollies, safe in the knowledge that their company expense accounts would pay up without batting an eyelid. However, industry analysts pointed out that the airline had failed to notice that there were no longer any businesses left in Britain.
Meanwhile, the world promised BA a nice ice lolly if it would just shut up for five minutes.
Wednesday, 20 May 2009
Deadly Floating Coffin Rebuilt For Gruesome Death Record Attempt
The public will have the chance to see sudden decapitation in the Lake District for the first time in over forty years, after national park officials gave the go-ahead for high-speed trials by the restored Bluebird speedboat - which achieved lasting notoriety after somersaulting and killing its pilot, Donald Campbell, on Coniston Water during a 1967 attempt on the water speed record.
The wreck, and assorted bits of Mr Campbell, were recovered from the murky lake in 2001 by diver Bill Ghoul, who has lovingly and creepily restored the jet-powered slaughter boat.
"I think it is a good result," said Mr Ghoul. "I am euphoric at having the final objective in sight, namely a re-enactment of this death-trap's 300mph disintegration - only this time in front of a battery of state-of-the-art high-speed cameras."
Unfortunately, however, the team's efforts to restore the soggy remains of record-breaker Donald Campbell have met with rather less success.
"To be honest, there's only so much you can do when all you've got to work with is a skull wedged firmly in a flattened crash helmet, and some algae-covered bones rattling around inside a rotting set of overalls," admitted Mr Ghoul. "So we plan to run a TV reality contest to find a member of the public who will happily sit in the cockpit of this jet-propelled coffin as it tears itself - and him - apart live on national telly."
The initial application is only for trial runs at 100mph, to demonstrate that the lethal boat is only moderately frightening at such speeds. However, if the hideously-unstable Bluebird and its idiot cargo somehow manage to remain intact for long enough, the ultimate goal is a fresh attempt on the world speed record - almost certainly ensuring a bloody repeat of the disastrous 1967 attempt.
"Only this time it'll be in HD colour, and we'll be able to slow the carnage right down and zoom in on every severed body part as it hurtles through the spray," enthused Mr Ghoul as TV producers queued up with their cheque books.
"In bullet time, too," he added cheerfully.
The wreck, and assorted bits of Mr Campbell, were recovered from the murky lake in 2001 by diver Bill Ghoul, who has lovingly and creepily restored the jet-powered slaughter boat.
"I think it is a good result," said Mr Ghoul. "I am euphoric at having the final objective in sight, namely a re-enactment of this death-trap's 300mph disintegration - only this time in front of a battery of state-of-the-art high-speed cameras."
Unfortunately, however, the team's efforts to restore the soggy remains of record-breaker Donald Campbell have met with rather less success.
"To be honest, there's only so much you can do when all you've got to work with is a skull wedged firmly in a flattened crash helmet, and some algae-covered bones rattling around inside a rotting set of overalls," admitted Mr Ghoul. "So we plan to run a TV reality contest to find a member of the public who will happily sit in the cockpit of this jet-propelled coffin as it tears itself - and him - apart live on national telly."
The initial application is only for trial runs at 100mph, to demonstrate that the lethal boat is only moderately frightening at such speeds. However, if the hideously-unstable Bluebird and its idiot cargo somehow manage to remain intact for long enough, the ultimate goal is a fresh attempt on the world speed record - almost certainly ensuring a bloody repeat of the disastrous 1967 attempt.
"Only this time it'll be in HD colour, and we'll be able to slow the carnage right down and zoom in on every severed body part as it hurtles through the spray," enthused Mr Ghoul as TV producers queued up with their cheque books.
"In bullet time, too," he added cheerfully.
Vote For Us and Save £3: Tories Push For Snap Election
Conservative Party leader David Cameron is calling on Gordon Brown to call a General Election, certain in the belief that he will be swept into Number Ten on a tidal wave of popular support for freezing this year's TV licence increase.
"£142.50 for the privilege of watching endless repeats of Dr Who on BBC3 is nothing short of daylight robbery," claimed Mr Cameron. "£139.50, though, sounds about right."
Sir Michael Lyons, chairman of the BBC Trust, issued a press release saying that the BBC would go bankrupt without your £3, leaving you with nothing to take your mind off your wretched, ant-like existence but Jeremy Kyle on ITV or a blank screen on Dave.
However, Mr Cameron countered the dire warnings from Broadcasting House by saying that, under a Conservative government, your life would be so full of glee that your telly would soon be covered in cobwebs.
"This attack on the BBC's funding is only the beginning," he promised. "We will stop all payments to MPs, ensuring that only public-spirited wealthy people will be able to afford the privilege of selflessly serving the nation. How do you fancy Alan Sugar as Employment Secretary, Simon Cowell in charge of Culture, Media and Sport and Jordan as Chancellor of the Exchequer?"
"We will also cut all state benefits to the workshy," promised Mr Cameron. "This will create a huge revival in the indentured servant industry, which has been moribund for too long. In return for a roof of some kind over their heads, the unemployed can be put to work in your house and garden until you become sick of the sight of them, when you can release them back into the wild. Pensioners can be put to work in the kitchen, either cooking a variety of nutritious meals they remember from the war or making jam. And the disabled make lovely garden ornaments."
"But the main thing to remember when voting Conservative is those three shiny pound coins jingling on your pocket," he added.
"£142.50 for the privilege of watching endless repeats of Dr Who on BBC3 is nothing short of daylight robbery," claimed Mr Cameron. "£139.50, though, sounds about right."
Sir Michael Lyons, chairman of the BBC Trust, issued a press release saying that the BBC would go bankrupt without your £3, leaving you with nothing to take your mind off your wretched, ant-like existence but Jeremy Kyle on ITV or a blank screen on Dave.
However, Mr Cameron countered the dire warnings from Broadcasting House by saying that, under a Conservative government, your life would be so full of glee that your telly would soon be covered in cobwebs.
"This attack on the BBC's funding is only the beginning," he promised. "We will stop all payments to MPs, ensuring that only public-spirited wealthy people will be able to afford the privilege of selflessly serving the nation. How do you fancy Alan Sugar as Employment Secretary, Simon Cowell in charge of Culture, Media and Sport and Jordan as Chancellor of the Exchequer?"
"We will also cut all state benefits to the workshy," promised Mr Cameron. "This will create a huge revival in the indentured servant industry, which has been moribund for too long. In return for a roof of some kind over their heads, the unemployed can be put to work in your house and garden until you become sick of the sight of them, when you can release them back into the wild. Pensioners can be put to work in the kitchen, either cooking a variety of nutritious meals they remember from the war or making jam. And the disabled make lovely garden ornaments."
"But the main thing to remember when voting Conservative is those three shiny pound coins jingling on your pocket," he added.
Tuesday, 19 May 2009
Too Much Cock(TM) Is Bad For You, Warn Experts
Excessive Cock(TM) intake can lead to a range of unpleasant experiences, warned doctors, with symptoms ranging from feeling weak at the knees to severe muscle strain.
Experts cited the case of an ostrich farmer in Australia who needed emergency treatment after taking in a huge amount of Cock(TM) on a daily basis, leaving him gasping for breath. He has since made a full recovery, and has been advised to cut down on his Cock(TM) habit.
Another case involved a pregnant woman who swallowed up to three litres a day for six years and complained of tiredness, appetite loss and persistent vomiting. Doctors are still trying to understand how she remained pregnant throughout the whole six years, but think it may have something to do with the extraordinary effects of so much Cock(TM).
Researchers believe that such cases are not untypical, however.
"These days, super-sized Cock(TM) is being pushed in people's faces all the time," said team leader Dr Strangelove. "People are noisily slurping Cock(TM) in cinemas, mixing their drinks with it in public bars, and having it with their chicken. Disturbingly, we are now seeing a rise in special half-size Cocks(TM) aimed at children, who get far too excited for their own good."
Excessive Cock(TM) has already been linked with a range of health problems, not least of which is uncontrollable diarrhoea.
"I went to see the Star Trek movie last week, and I asked for the largest Cock(TM) they had," said one clearly-shaken filmgoer. "It was a bit of a struggle, but I just about managed to fit it all in before the climax. But I was shitting myself, I can tell you."
STOP PRESS: Nev Filter sued by Coca-Cola Corporation over simple typographic error
Experts cited the case of an ostrich farmer in Australia who needed emergency treatment after taking in a huge amount of Cock(TM) on a daily basis, leaving him gasping for breath. He has since made a full recovery, and has been advised to cut down on his Cock(TM) habit.
Another case involved a pregnant woman who swallowed up to three litres a day for six years and complained of tiredness, appetite loss and persistent vomiting. Doctors are still trying to understand how she remained pregnant throughout the whole six years, but think it may have something to do with the extraordinary effects of so much Cock(TM).
Researchers believe that such cases are not untypical, however.
"These days, super-sized Cock(TM) is being pushed in people's faces all the time," said team leader Dr Strangelove. "People are noisily slurping Cock(TM) in cinemas, mixing their drinks with it in public bars, and having it with their chicken. Disturbingly, we are now seeing a rise in special half-size Cocks(TM) aimed at children, who get far too excited for their own good."
Excessive Cock(TM) has already been linked with a range of health problems, not least of which is uncontrollable diarrhoea.
"I went to see the Star Trek movie last week, and I asked for the largest Cock(TM) they had," said one clearly-shaken filmgoer. "It was a bit of a struggle, but I just about managed to fit it all in before the climax. But I was shitting myself, I can tell you."
STOP PRESS: Nev Filter sued by Coca-Cola Corporation over simple typographic error
The Doziness Of The Long-Distance Faller
A British parachutist has had a miraculous escape from splattery death after temporarily forgetting all about the thing he had strapped to his back.
James Boole, a skydiver with twelve years' experience, was filming another jumper in Russia for a TV documentary. He tumbled 6,000ft in freefall, only remembering to open his parachute moments before slamming into a snow-capped mountain at more than 100mph. Mr Boole has since been shipped home, encased in concrete from the neck down.
"It's my partner's fault for signalling too late," explained the veteran of more than two thousand jumps. "I was completely engrossed in looking through the camera viewfinder, and although it did seem a bit funny when I saw fir branches going by, I hadn't had a signal from the idiot I was filming."
"I did think he was coming down a bit slowly," Mr Foole went on. "So I thought about it for a while. 'It must be all the drag from that big funny umbrella thing he's hanging from,' I decided eventually. Then I noticed he was making the sign of the cross, which seemed a bit odd, so I thought I'd better look it up in my Parachutist's Big Book of Signals. I opened my backpack, and to my great surprise a load of multicoloured silk burst out. 'Oh bugger,' I said to myself, 'I must have picked up somebody else's backpack by mistake.' Then I hit a snowdrift."
"The camera's a complete write-off, according to my X-rays," he added. "I reckon my stupid so-called mate owes me a bit more than an apology."
James Boole, a skydiver with twelve years' experience, was filming another jumper in Russia for a TV documentary. He tumbled 6,000ft in freefall, only remembering to open his parachute moments before slamming into a snow-capped mountain at more than 100mph. Mr Boole has since been shipped home, encased in concrete from the neck down.
"It's my partner's fault for signalling too late," explained the veteran of more than two thousand jumps. "I was completely engrossed in looking through the camera viewfinder, and although it did seem a bit funny when I saw fir branches going by, I hadn't had a signal from the idiot I was filming."
"I did think he was coming down a bit slowly," Mr Foole went on. "So I thought about it for a while. 'It must be all the drag from that big funny umbrella thing he's hanging from,' I decided eventually. Then I noticed he was making the sign of the cross, which seemed a bit odd, so I thought I'd better look it up in my Parachutist's Big Book of Signals. I opened my backpack, and to my great surprise a load of multicoloured silk burst out. 'Oh bugger,' I said to myself, 'I must have picked up somebody else's backpack by mistake.' Then I hit a snowdrift."
"The camera's a complete write-off, according to my X-rays," he added. "I reckon my stupid so-called mate owes me a bit more than an apology."
Monday, 18 May 2009
Lamb-Like MPs Blame Speaker For Leading Them Into Sin
Angry MPs have made it clear that the Speaker of the House of Commons is a charismatic leader of a heretic cult, whose saturnine influence led them all astray through the malignant force of his irresistible personality.
"I was a gentil and parfait knight, as the loyal serfs of my consituency will attest, before I fell under the sway of Speaker Martin," said a furious Sir Edwin Hideage (Con., Motton Bayleigh). "But this demon appeared to me in a vision, urging me to refortify my castle in preparation for the coming apocalypse. It is entirely due to his weasel words that I claimed two groats for work on repointing the battlements, four guineas for Greek fire and four shillings and ninepence for trebuchet maintenance. I shall of course repent my sins by distributing these moneys among the lepers who huddle beneath the walls of my stronghold, but verily I say that Speaker Martin is a cavorting imp of Satan, and demand that he be subjected to trial by newspaper."
"Speaker Martin journeyed through the realm, offering absolution from expenses, and when he came to my constituency I did call him to my presence and demand that he explain the expenses system to me," confessed a shaken Robert Blague (Lab., Warden of the Cinque Estates). "His honeyed tongue did lull me into sinful dreams of riches, leading me to indulge in the shameless flipping of hovels, contrary to the teachings of Our Lord Jesus Christ. In contrition, it is my intent to do penance for a week in a converted sty, for I am but an innocent lamb lured from the flock; but I call for this knave to be subjected forthwith to Holy Inquisition by the heralds."
Members, who only last week were vying to abase themselves in the eyes of the enraged peasantry, jostled and fought in their efforts to outdo each other in describing the dismal betrayal of their faith in the expenses system administered by the sin-gorged mendicant. Speaker Martin himself, however, stood impassively erect as serjeants-at-arms bound him firmly to his gilded chair (John Lewis, £15,499) atop a huge pile of faggots at the head of the debating hall, all the while rending the air with his cries to Lord Gordon, his patron, to save him.
His unholy master was, however, notable for his silence, absorbed as he was in the apparent study of the chamber's decorative ceiling bosses.
"I was a gentil and parfait knight, as the loyal serfs of my consituency will attest, before I fell under the sway of Speaker Martin," said a furious Sir Edwin Hideage (Con., Motton Bayleigh). "But this demon appeared to me in a vision, urging me to refortify my castle in preparation for the coming apocalypse. It is entirely due to his weasel words that I claimed two groats for work on repointing the battlements, four guineas for Greek fire and four shillings and ninepence for trebuchet maintenance. I shall of course repent my sins by distributing these moneys among the lepers who huddle beneath the walls of my stronghold, but verily I say that Speaker Martin is a cavorting imp of Satan, and demand that he be subjected to trial by newspaper."
"Speaker Martin journeyed through the realm, offering absolution from expenses, and when he came to my constituency I did call him to my presence and demand that he explain the expenses system to me," confessed a shaken Robert Blague (Lab., Warden of the Cinque Estates). "His honeyed tongue did lull me into sinful dreams of riches, leading me to indulge in the shameless flipping of hovels, contrary to the teachings of Our Lord Jesus Christ. In contrition, it is my intent to do penance for a week in a converted sty, for I am but an innocent lamb lured from the flock; but I call for this knave to be subjected forthwith to Holy Inquisition by the heralds."
Members, who only last week were vying to abase themselves in the eyes of the enraged peasantry, jostled and fought in their efforts to outdo each other in describing the dismal betrayal of their faith in the expenses system administered by the sin-gorged mendicant. Speaker Martin himself, however, stood impassively erect as serjeants-at-arms bound him firmly to his gilded chair (John Lewis, £15,499) atop a huge pile of faggots at the head of the debating hall, all the while rending the air with his cries to Lord Gordon, his patron, to save him.
His unholy master was, however, notable for his silence, absorbed as he was in the apparent study of the chamber's decorative ceiling bosses.
Wheels Fall Off Creaking Scrappage Scheme
The much-vaunted car scrappage scheme, in which clapped-out old bangers are traded for new cars, hangs in the balance today after leading manufacturers Ford and Honda belatedly realised that the government was actually serious about expecting them to contribute half of the £2000 scrappage payments.
"The original request was for a contribution of £1000 from the industry," said a white-faced Honda spokesman. "We were fully expecting the dealers to absorb that sum, as part of the usual discount that self-deluding motorists love to think they are getting by a bit of haggling over the completely theoretical price on the windscreen. Now we're being told we can't do that. If Gordon Brown and Alistair Darling think we're going to give a grand of our profits to every single Tom, Dick or Harry who pollutes our forecourt with some rusting old Metro he picked up from the scrap merchant for fifty nicker, expecting to burn off in a spanking new CR-V, the bastards can fuck themselves sideways with a bull bar."
A Ford spokesman concurred broadly, but suggested that the Prime Minister and Chancellor of the Exchequer should, in the view of the Ford Europe management team, insert steering columns up each other's recta.
The manufacturers have suspended deliveries to their dealership networks, threatening both Dagenham and Swindon with burial under towering walls of brand new cars, which are reported to advancing on the towns at a rate of twenty metres per hour.
"The original request was for a contribution of £1000 from the industry," said a white-faced Honda spokesman. "We were fully expecting the dealers to absorb that sum, as part of the usual discount that self-deluding motorists love to think they are getting by a bit of haggling over the completely theoretical price on the windscreen. Now we're being told we can't do that. If Gordon Brown and Alistair Darling think we're going to give a grand of our profits to every single Tom, Dick or Harry who pollutes our forecourt with some rusting old Metro he picked up from the scrap merchant for fifty nicker, expecting to burn off in a spanking new CR-V, the bastards can fuck themselves sideways with a bull bar."
A Ford spokesman concurred broadly, but suggested that the Prime Minister and Chancellor of the Exchequer should, in the view of the Ford Europe management team, insert steering columns up each other's recta.
The manufacturers have suspended deliveries to their dealership networks, threatening both Dagenham and Swindon with burial under towering walls of brand new cars, which are reported to advancing on the towns at a rate of twenty metres per hour.
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