With the formation of Britain’s first coalition government since 1945, just what are the key political assignations ceded to the Liberal Democrats?
Deputy Dawg: Nick Clegg. Mr Clegg will use this key position to radically influence the new government’s policies, in much the same way that John Prescott influenced Tony Blair.
Stationery Cupboard: Vince Cable. Armed with his trusty Casio fx-85, the redoubtable Lib Dem financial wizard will bring his formidable calculator to bear on Whitehall’s stocks of pastel-shaded A4.
Flowerpot Man: Chris Huhne. The other Liberal Democrat the public have heard of will be responsible for telling the public we’re all going to die at regular intervals. The messages, that is. Not the dying.
Head Prefect: possibly David Laws. Mr Laws is expected to receive a shiny badge.
Pict-Goader: possibly Danny Alexander. The incumbent will have the key role of being moaned at rather a lot by the SNP.
Meanwhile, the Green Party has opened its hairy arms to any Lib Dem MPs terrified at the prospect of having some responsibility for the first time in their lives.
Wednesday, 12 May 2010
Hung Parliament Special
Wah, Says Public
The British public started crying petulantly last night when the Liberal Democrats did what they said they were going to do, and is still wailing today.
Special emergency teams are being flown in from Britain’s grown-up neighbours to pick up all the rattles, which are knee-deep in many areas.
The British public started crying petulantly last night when the Liberal Democrats did what they said they were going to do, and is still wailing today.
Special emergency teams are being flown in from Britain’s grown-up neighbours to pick up all the rattles, which are knee-deep in many areas.
Tuesday, 11 May 2010
UK Now A Dictatorship, Says Global Media Organisation Answerable to One Man
In less than a week the United Kingdom has lurched from democracy to dictatorship, according to secretive media overlord Rupert Murdoch’s propaganda tool, the Sun.
Those 10 Tell-Tale Signs Of A Dictator
1. Unelected
2. Secretive
3. Repressive
4. Control Freak
5. Tells People What To Think
6. Hates Ordinary Citizens
7. Will Do Deals With Anybody To Consolidate Power
8. Supports Unwinnable Wars
9. Marries Younger Woman
10. Steps Down For The Public Good
Later editions of the Sun carry nine tell-tale signs of a dictator, whilst leaked reports from paper’s headquarters say the corridors are filled with speculation about who will put themselves forward for the soon-to-be-vacated post of junior features writer.
Those 10 Tell-Tale Signs Of A Dictator
1. Unelected
2. Secretive
3. Repressive
4. Control Freak
5. Tells People What To Think
6. Hates Ordinary Citizens
7. Will Do Deals With Anybody To Consolidate Power
8. Supports Unwinnable Wars
9. Marries Younger Woman
10. Steps Down For The Public Good
Later editions of the Sun carry nine tell-tale signs of a dictator, whilst leaked reports from paper’s headquarters say the corridors are filled with speculation about who will put themselves forward for the soon-to-be-vacated post of junior features writer.
NHS: ‘Say What You Like About Hitler But Boy, Could He Motivate People’
West Midlands Ambulance Service has defended asking staff to rate Hitler’s coolness in a survey, pointing out that the most evil man in history “galvanised a nation into doing something quite unusual.”
The survey, entitled “Making Mass Murder of the Sick Cool: How Emerging Leaders Wish To Be Managed And Supported”, was distributed to 4,000 members of staff, along with a cyanide gas cylinder for each ambulance.
A spokesman for the service later screamed at reporters: “The staff involved were not trying to cause offence to anybody. If they had, they wouldn’t have issued a questionnaire – they would simply have annexed A&E and overrun Birmingham City Hospital.”
"In discussing different styles of leadership, a survey which is one small part of the project sought to include an analysis of the dictatorial style,” he added. “With hindsight, it would have been better to have used a different example to illustrate this. Maybe Gordon Brown – whoops, sorry, he was in the survey too."
The survey, entitled “Making Mass Murder of the Sick Cool: How Emerging Leaders Wish To Be Managed And Supported”, was distributed to 4,000 members of staff, along with a cyanide gas cylinder for each ambulance.
A spokesman for the service later screamed at reporters: “The staff involved were not trying to cause offence to anybody. If they had, they wouldn’t have issued a questionnaire – they would simply have annexed A&E and overrun Birmingham City Hospital.”
"In discussing different styles of leadership, a survey which is one small part of the project sought to include an analysis of the dictatorial style,” he added. “With hindsight, it would have been better to have used a different example to illustrate this. Maybe Gordon Brown – whoops, sorry, he was in the survey too."
Monday, 10 May 2010
Australian Director Under Fire For Having No Elderly Chinese Relatives To Cast
The director of an Australian TV series about the Gallipoli campaign has been accused of “whiting out” history, after rewriting the script to make a Chinese-Australian hero Caucasian.
Billy Sing, the son of a Chinese father and white mother, was known as ‘the Gallipoli assassin’ for his bravery in battle, which earned him the Distinguished Conduct Medal. However, director Geoff Bigot says that, after unsuccessfully scouring his entire family tree for a male Chinese actor aged about 60, he was left with no option but to rewrite the character as a white man.
“Then I fossicked the whole of Oz for a whitefella to play the part of a whitefella,” he added. “But strewth, I drew a total blank there too. But tinny me, then I remembered that my son Nepot happens to be just the right colour, or the whole production would have carked it for sure.”
“Now all these chows are giving me a curry,” he added. “Yeah, that’d be right.”
Billy Sing, the son of a Chinese father and white mother, was known as ‘the Gallipoli assassin’ for his bravery in battle, which earned him the Distinguished Conduct Medal. However, director Geoff Bigot says that, after unsuccessfully scouring his entire family tree for a male Chinese actor aged about 60, he was left with no option but to rewrite the character as a white man.
“Then I fossicked the whole of Oz for a whitefella to play the part of a whitefella,” he added. “But strewth, I drew a total blank there too. But tinny me, then I remembered that my son Nepot happens to be just the right colour, or the whole production would have carked it for sure.”
“Now all these chows are giving me a curry,” he added. “Yeah, that’d be right.”
EU To Spend Money It Doesn’t Have To Prevent Damage Caused By Country That Spent Money It Didn’t Have
European finance ministers have agreed on a brilliant economic plan to save the eurozone from being dragged into the yawning fiscal vacuum created by Greece, which involves throwing 750bn euros they don’t have into the hole after it.
The world’s money casino wobbled precariously on Friday, when the EU announced plans to throw a notional 110bn euros directly at Greece, with gamblers casting nervous glances at large cracks appearing in the walls of the vast capitalist edifice.
“Today’s EU decision makes me feel slightly less frightened that the roof is about to fall in,” said investment banker Nick Stuff as he pushed another pension fund into a slot machine. “But the scaffolding has already gone up, and workmen are papering banknotes over the cracks. My confidence is returning. Come on baby - three lemons, three lemons! Give it up for daddy.”
Futures trader Rob Blind summed up the mood of the market when he told the Nev Filter: “Thanks to the EU’s finance ministers, I now have a huge reserve supply of chips to play with. OK, so they don’t actually exist, but as long as we all pretend they do we can carry on betting. That’s got to be better than closing the casino, right? Right.”
Britain fought a rearguard action over pouring billions it doesn’t have into a fund that saves the faces of eurozone members whilst leaving the British economy even further exposed. However, a shirtless Alistair Darling later explained his about-face decision to reporters by likening Britain’s relationship with the other economies of the EU to a third-class carriage tacked onto the end of an express train with a sobbing suicidal driver, hurtling through the night at frightening speed along a mountainside track towards a bridge whose central span had collapsed.
“Of course, we could always jump out of our compartment,” admitted the shivering chancellor of the exchequer, “but we’d just bounce thousands of feet down the mountainside to the same grisly death. So we might as well turn up the steam heating and savour these last few minutes of existence in some comfort.”
Meanwhile, the world’s money markets are peering into the darkness and eagerly placing bets on how many minutes will pass before the EU train reaches the bridge.
The world’s money casino wobbled precariously on Friday, when the EU announced plans to throw a notional 110bn euros directly at Greece, with gamblers casting nervous glances at large cracks appearing in the walls of the vast capitalist edifice.
“Today’s EU decision makes me feel slightly less frightened that the roof is about to fall in,” said investment banker Nick Stuff as he pushed another pension fund into a slot machine. “But the scaffolding has already gone up, and workmen are papering banknotes over the cracks. My confidence is returning. Come on baby - three lemons, three lemons! Give it up for daddy.”
Futures trader Rob Blind summed up the mood of the market when he told the Nev Filter: “Thanks to the EU’s finance ministers, I now have a huge reserve supply of chips to play with. OK, so they don’t actually exist, but as long as we all pretend they do we can carry on betting. That’s got to be better than closing the casino, right? Right.”
Britain fought a rearguard action over pouring billions it doesn’t have into a fund that saves the faces of eurozone members whilst leaving the British economy even further exposed. However, a shirtless Alistair Darling later explained his about-face decision to reporters by likening Britain’s relationship with the other economies of the EU to a third-class carriage tacked onto the end of an express train with a sobbing suicidal driver, hurtling through the night at frightening speed along a mountainside track towards a bridge whose central span had collapsed.
“Of course, we could always jump out of our compartment,” admitted the shivering chancellor of the exchequer, “but we’d just bounce thousands of feet down the mountainside to the same grisly death. So we might as well turn up the steam heating and savour these last few minutes of existence in some comfort.”
Meanwhile, the world’s money markets are peering into the darkness and eagerly placing bets on how many minutes will pass before the EU train reaches the bridge.
Sunday, 9 May 2010
Judgment of Solomon Offers Way Out Of Political Deadlock
A royally-appointed surgical team is today preparing to divide Nick Clegg down the middle, giving half of the Liberal Democrat leader to the Labour Party and half to David Cameron.
“Both parties want Nick Clegg, but they can’t both have him,” pointed out consultant buzz-saw operator Yon Yonson, who comes from Wisconsin (he works in a lumber mill there). “The people I meet as I walk down the street say, ‘Hey, what’s your position on the importance of electoral reform?’ Since Mr Clegg seems to be the stumbling block which has paralysed the government of Britain at a crucial time when hard decisions need to be made, I have been asked by the Queen to remove the obstacle. She has been up since Thursday night, pumped up on Pro Plus and Red Bull, and she says she can’t stay awake forever waiting for these dozy sods to stop playing silly buggers and come to her with a viable government.”
“Well, that’s what Prince Philip told me, anyway,” he added.
Mr Clegg was ceremonially seized at dawn by parliamentary officials led by Black Rod, who expertly bundled him into the Woolsack and solemnly processed back to Westminster Hall, the time-hallowed venue for the traditional ceremony of dismemberment.
Tory leader David Cameron has also been dragged to Westminster, where his left side is being planed down in preparation for his forthcoming Clegg-graft. The limpet-like prime minister is still holed up in his Downing Street fortress - although unmistakeable sounds of subterranean excavation can be heard emanating from number 11, where Chancellor Alistair Darling is said to be co-operating fully with a crack SAS prime ministerial extraction squad.
“We will have to trim the left of Mr Brown’s body once he becomes available for a Clegg transplant,” said Mr Yonson. “This may seem bizarre, but I have been assured that Britain’s quaint unwritten constitution is quite clear on the matter. Party leaders must be spliced together according to their political beliefs. To do otherwise would be deeply undemocratic.”
Impatient European leaders desperate to come to some kind of working solution to the imminent meltdown of the entire continent’s economic structure say they are ready to be confronted by a bleeding horrific two-faced monstrosity from Britain, as they have plenty of previous experience in this area.
“It’ll be just like the 80s all over again,” said EU President Hermann van Rumpuy. “We managed then and we’ll manage now. Happy days.”
“Both parties want Nick Clegg, but they can’t both have him,” pointed out consultant buzz-saw operator Yon Yonson, who comes from Wisconsin (he works in a lumber mill there). “The people I meet as I walk down the street say, ‘Hey, what’s your position on the importance of electoral reform?’ Since Mr Clegg seems to be the stumbling block which has paralysed the government of Britain at a crucial time when hard decisions need to be made, I have been asked by the Queen to remove the obstacle. She has been up since Thursday night, pumped up on Pro Plus and Red Bull, and she says she can’t stay awake forever waiting for these dozy sods to stop playing silly buggers and come to her with a viable government.”
“Well, that’s what Prince Philip told me, anyway,” he added.
Mr Clegg was ceremonially seized at dawn by parliamentary officials led by Black Rod, who expertly bundled him into the Woolsack and solemnly processed back to Westminster Hall, the time-hallowed venue for the traditional ceremony of dismemberment.
Tory leader David Cameron has also been dragged to Westminster, where his left side is being planed down in preparation for his forthcoming Clegg-graft. The limpet-like prime minister is still holed up in his Downing Street fortress - although unmistakeable sounds of subterranean excavation can be heard emanating from number 11, where Chancellor Alistair Darling is said to be co-operating fully with a crack SAS prime ministerial extraction squad.
“We will have to trim the left of Mr Brown’s body once he becomes available for a Clegg transplant,” said Mr Yonson. “This may seem bizarre, but I have been assured that Britain’s quaint unwritten constitution is quite clear on the matter. Party leaders must be spliced together according to their political beliefs. To do otherwise would be deeply undemocratic.”
Impatient European leaders desperate to come to some kind of working solution to the imminent meltdown of the entire continent’s economic structure say they are ready to be confronted by a bleeding horrific two-faced monstrosity from Britain, as they have plenty of previous experience in this area.
“It’ll be just like the 80s all over again,” said EU President Hermann van Rumpuy. “We managed then and we’ll manage now. Happy days.”
Saturday, 8 May 2010
Rest of World Doing Stuff, Apparently
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.
Friday, 7 May 2010
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.
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.
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