Showing posts with label culture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label culture. Show all posts
Saturday, 30 July 2011
Sunday, 13 March 2011
Cream Of British Acting Talent Confuse Chitty Chitty Bang Bang With Art
In an overdramatic letter to the Observer today, Britain’s world-beating luvvies begged the government not to cut funding to the arts, pointing out that many of them had won gongs which in some undefined way contributed £7bn to the nation’s economy.
“With the heart-rending reductions announced in last year's ghastly Spending Review, the terrifying withdrawal of simply huge amounts of local authority support, the stomach-churning abolition of the poor, defenceless UK Film Council and the cruel and brutal financial pressures faced by the innocent little Arts Councils and the dear old BBC, we are currently facing the deadliest threat to funding the arts and culture have experienced in the entire history of mankind,” they wrote on a tear-stained sheet of RSC stationery.
“Oh, and something about paintings and stuff too,” they added in a postscript.
As a typical example of how funding is affecting ordinary British actors, they highlighted the terrible plight of David Tennant, who used to earn £1m a year but is now unable to afford even the most basic personal grooming tools.
“We are seeing the titans of Britain’s thespian community losing their jobs daily to Martine McCutcheon and caterwauling members of the public,” sobbed Dame Helen Mirren, who achieved international recognition with her critically-acclaimed breasts in John Landis’ epic movie adaptation of Shakespeare’s An American Werewolf In London. “Without a big fat subsidy, how long can the benighted corners of this land continue to be culturally enriched by hand-me-down versions of West End musicals based on Disney movies or some sort of wafer-thin narrative linking pop hits of the 70s?”
“If anything, it’s an understatement to say that this so-called government is committing intellectual genocide against the matinee audiences of Great Britain,” explained Tony Robinson, as he prepared to be buried for 100 years in a time capsule, in a last-ditch attempt to keep Channel 4 paying for Time Team.
“Please, please give me another series,” begged one-time TV satirist Rory Bremner as he desperately tried to perfect his impressions of Lauren Laverne, Jimmy Carr, David Mitchell and Charlie Brooker. “Look, the Two Johns are on pensions now - I can probably get them for free.”
“With the heart-rending reductions announced in last year's ghastly Spending Review, the terrifying withdrawal of simply huge amounts of local authority support, the stomach-churning abolition of the poor, defenceless UK Film Council and the cruel and brutal financial pressures faced by the innocent little Arts Councils and the dear old BBC, we are currently facing the deadliest threat to funding the arts and culture have experienced in the entire history of mankind,” they wrote on a tear-stained sheet of RSC stationery.
 |
| The tragic decline of David Tennant from 2009 to today can only get worse |
As a typical example of how funding is affecting ordinary British actors, they highlighted the terrible plight of David Tennant, who used to earn £1m a year but is now unable to afford even the most basic personal grooming tools.
“We are seeing the titans of Britain’s thespian community losing their jobs daily to Martine McCutcheon and caterwauling members of the public,” sobbed Dame Helen Mirren, who achieved international recognition with her critically-acclaimed breasts in John Landis’ epic movie adaptation of Shakespeare’s An American Werewolf In London. “Without a big fat subsidy, how long can the benighted corners of this land continue to be culturally enriched by hand-me-down versions of West End musicals based on Disney movies or some sort of wafer-thin narrative linking pop hits of the 70s?”
“If anything, it’s an understatement to say that this so-called government is committing intellectual genocide against the matinee audiences of Great Britain,” explained Tony Robinson, as he prepared to be buried for 100 years in a time capsule, in a last-ditch attempt to keep Channel 4 paying for Time Team.
“Please, please give me another series,” begged one-time TV satirist Rory Bremner as he desperately tried to perfect his impressions of Lauren Laverne, Jimmy Carr, David Mitchell and Charlie Brooker. “Look, the Two Johns are on pensions now - I can probably get them for free.”
Saturday, 5 March 2011
Nation To Spend World Book Night Glued To BBC2
Britain is today looking forward to a nice relaxing evening in front of the telly, with viewers eagerly watching programmes telling them all they could ever want to know about the joys of literature.
BBC2’s helpful contribution to World Book night kicks off with a short film showing the printing and distribution of a million free books which, by staying at home, they will not be receiving. Next, intellectual heavyweight Sue from TV’s Mel and Sue will go to Agatha Christie’s lovely house and visit a racetrack with the son of Dick Francis in a sterling effort to find out whether they preferred word-processing on Macs or PCs.
The next page-turning instalment of a gripping evening will see leading critics asked whether they think the boring old novel has finally had its day. Each will in turn put on their most ironic face when delivering to camera the line, “Er – um - not at all - um - no.”
Finally, in the highlight of the magnificently booky evening, viewers will be spared the effort of dragging a finger through a doorstop full of tedious long words thanks to the mercifully short film adaptation of ‘Brideshead Revisited’, written by somebody or other. They will then go to bed, where they will fall asleep comparing it unfavourably with Downton Abbey.
 |
| Or you can listen to it while you're washing your pants |
The next page-turning instalment of a gripping evening will see leading critics asked whether they think the boring old novel has finally had its day. Each will in turn put on their most ironic face when delivering to camera the line, “Er – um - not at all - um - no.”
Finally, in the highlight of the magnificently booky evening, viewers will be spared the effort of dragging a finger through a doorstop full of tedious long words thanks to the mercifully short film adaptation of ‘Brideshead Revisited’, written by somebody or other. They will then go to bed, where they will fall asleep comparing it unfavourably with Downton Abbey.
Saturday, 5 February 2011
Fears Of Nazi Resurgence In Munich
 |
| The evil Kameron salute strikes fear into every heart |
Overt racial supremacism poured from the bigoted extremist’s sneering lips, from the rabble-rousing opening words – “Gosh, hullo everyone” – to his final, echoing screech of “Thank you.”
In tones calculated to strike the paralysis of fear into his opponents, Herr Kameron launched into a brutal attack of unprecedented fury on the nation’s ethnic minorities. “You know, I’m not entirely happy about forced marriage,” he bellowed viciously, before outrageously demanding that, ideally, all ethnic children in Britain should be forced - doubtlessly at gunpoint, and using every inhuman torture - to grow up speaking a bit of English.
“Behold the spectre of the death factories,” brave underground activists solemnly warned their Facebook friends. “How can the world stand idly and shamefully by and pander slavishly to this evil hatemonger, who dares to claim that Britain’s Islamic fundamentalists are drawn exclusively from within the greater Muslim community?”
Even as the evil Kameron spoke, his dreaded EDL paramilitary squads were brazenly parading through the streets of Luton, cruelly raising their deadly cans of Heineken to their mouths and bringing them down empty with a sickening crunch, as curious terrified shoppers looked on.
“It shows the extent to which Britain has descended into a repressive police state,” said a shocked Mr Dave Lenin of Facebook, “When a protest march can be allowed to proceed along a designated route without having seven colours of shit kicked out of them by the uniformed thugs of the Bedfordshire Police Authority.”
Monday, 6 December 2010
He’s A Very Naughtie Boy
 |
| A completely unjustified and gratuitous minger shot |
“I made an unpardonable slip-up this morning when I told listeners that I had Culture Secretary Jeremy H*** with me in the studio,” the red-faced broadcaster admitted. “I’m terribly sorry. It won’t happen again.”
Squirming BBC bosses confirmed that long-standing guidelines specifically banned the cunt from the airwaves.
“In this day and age pretty much anything goes, particularly after the nine o’clock watershed,” said embarrassed Director-General Mark Thompson. “But this cunt is utterly objectionable, and should never be broadcast under any circumstances.”
The government confirmed that anybody would, quite rightly, be mortally offended by the slightest mention of Jeremy H***.
“It’s disgusting and there’s simply no need for it,” admitted a spokesman for the Department of Culture, Media and Sport. “Believe me, you don’t want to see the filthy obscenities scribbled on the lavatory walls round here by civil servants who have to work with that unmentionable cunt.”
Wednesday, 6 October 2010
‘Your Country Needs You,’ Says Cameron, ‘To Shut The Fuck Up And Do As You’re Told’
“Your country needs you,” he announced to cheering crowds at the Tory conference, “To shut the fuck up and do as you’re told. Your country needs you to step up onto the firestep, climb over the parapet and march steadily forward into no man’s land with nothing more to protect you than a touching faith in the wisdom of your betters.”
In just a few years, promised Mr Cameron, Britain would surely become a land fit for heroes. Unfortunately, he warned, the intervening period would necessarily involve human suffering and sacrifice on an unprecedented scale, with the survivors emerging from their squalid holes, shell-shocked and bitter, to pick up the threads of their former lives as best they could.
“Already I hear the voices of a few RMT cowards urging you to march in the opposite direction, i.e. to the TUC Centre on Tottenham Court Road on the 23rd,” he sneered. “If their consciences are really so bothered, give these shirkers a white feather – to be printed in tomorrow’s soaraway ‘Sun Bull’, courtesy of that great patriot Horrupio Botmurdley – and ask them what exactly they think their objectionable friend Gordon Brown would have done if, God forbid, he was still prime minister.”
“Rest assured,” he promised, “The sacrifices demanded of you today will be regarded by future generations with unmitigated horror, ensuring that such futile carnage on an industrial scale will never be allowed to happen again. These will truly be the cuts to end all cuts.”
“If our lord Cameron is not a great man,” commented one blue-blooded Tory delegate later, “He is, at least, a great poseur.”
Saturday, 17 July 2010
Hated BBC To Be Closed Down
The hated BBC could well see the licence fee cut within a year, said James Murdoch today, without moving his lips, as the first step towards eradicating the evil, thieving corporate monster which has blighted your lives by cynically giving your money to its staff.
Mr Murdoch’s hilarious dummy, Culture Secretary Jeremy Hunt, had reporters in stitches when he added: “Now take your hand out of my arse, daddy’s boy.”
Sky viewers, meanwhile, were reported to be ecstatic about the outstanding value for money they received from their monthly subscriptions, as long as they could continue to have football matches beamed directly into their eyeballs for every waking second of their lives.
Mr Murdoch’s hilarious dummy, Culture Secretary Jeremy Hunt, had reporters in stitches when he added: “Now take your hand out of my arse, daddy’s boy.”
Sky viewers, meanwhile, were reported to be ecstatic about the outstanding value for money they received from their monthly subscriptions, as long as they could continue to have football matches beamed directly into their eyeballs for every waking second of their lives.
Saturday, 31 October 2009
Calendars Command Fun-Loving Families To Celebrate Commercially-Debased Festival By Cheerfully Terrorising The Quiet Guy Down The Road
Childless adults are tonight barricading themselves inside their homes as best they can, ready to face the annual festive Halloween celebration of the brain dead.
"This is a solemn Christian festival, sanctioned and sanctified by Hallmark and countless other devoutly-minded multinational corporations and humble pound shops, in which simple God-fearing churchgoers pay reverence to the dear memory of their departed friends and relatives by dressing themselves up in plastic tat, covering themselves in fake blood and victimising vulnerable, lonely people in their own homes," said a man dressed imaginatively as a zombie.
"It's their own fault, the weird bastard perverts," he added. "If they get dogshit pushed through the letterbox, it bloody serves the miserable freaks right for turning milk sour, molesting small children and animals and not being out on the streets themselves, besieging other isolated, vulnerable recluses like all decent folk do."
Halloween - or Arse Holes' Eve as it used to be known - is a much-loved children's tradition dating back to 1978 and the release of John Carpenter's original film, in which American teenagers are hacked to death by a masked maniac in a fairly obvious metaphor for the taboo subject of sexual awakening.
"Before then, it was a case of going along to evensong and singing a few boring hymns," said Archbishop Walter Mart, as he prepared for his sacramental duties by dressing up as an undead pirate bearing absolutely no resemblance to Johnny Depp. "But today it is a fun event for all the family to teach their children to treat the elderly with no respect whatsoever - and that extortion with menaces is perfectly acceptable behaviour, as long as it is sanctioned by the popular media and printed in diaries."
Card retailers and supermarkets are hoping to build on Halloween's successful marketing exercise next year, by promoting the populist debasement of another obscure date in the church calendar, Michaelmas.
"It is a tragedy that so many days in the year condemn people to the misery by having no corporate-approved means of enjoying themselves at other people's expense associated with them," said a family fun-loving spokesman for the British Retail Consortium. "We've gone for St Michael's Day primarily because September is traditionally a bit of a lean month in the pointless, throwaway crap market sector."
"What nicer way to celebrate the feast day that marks the archangel St Michael's pious founding of a high-street food-and-knickers chain than by rampaging through residential areas dressed as fucking enormous daisies?" he added. "Preferably with bloody great scythes, or some kind of modified strimmer or flymo that can be rammed into an old git's face."
"This is a solemn Christian festival, sanctioned and sanctified by Hallmark and countless other devoutly-minded multinational corporations and humble pound shops, in which simple God-fearing churchgoers pay reverence to the dear memory of their departed friends and relatives by dressing themselves up in plastic tat, covering themselves in fake blood and victimising vulnerable, lonely people in their own homes," said a man dressed imaginatively as a zombie.
"It's their own fault, the weird bastard perverts," he added. "If they get dogshit pushed through the letterbox, it bloody serves the miserable freaks right for turning milk sour, molesting small children and animals and not being out on the streets themselves, besieging other isolated, vulnerable recluses like all decent folk do."
Halloween - or Arse Holes' Eve as it used to be known - is a much-loved children's tradition dating back to 1978 and the release of John Carpenter's original film, in which American teenagers are hacked to death by a masked maniac in a fairly obvious metaphor for the taboo subject of sexual awakening.
"Before then, it was a case of going along to evensong and singing a few boring hymns," said Archbishop Walter Mart, as he prepared for his sacramental duties by dressing up as an undead pirate bearing absolutely no resemblance to Johnny Depp. "But today it is a fun event for all the family to teach their children to treat the elderly with no respect whatsoever - and that extortion with menaces is perfectly acceptable behaviour, as long as it is sanctioned by the popular media and printed in diaries."
Card retailers and supermarkets are hoping to build on Halloween's successful marketing exercise next year, by promoting the populist debasement of another obscure date in the church calendar, Michaelmas.
"It is a tragedy that so many days in the year condemn people to the misery by having no corporate-approved means of enjoying themselves at other people's expense associated with them," said a family fun-loving spokesman for the British Retail Consortium. "We've gone for St Michael's Day primarily because September is traditionally a bit of a lean month in the pointless, throwaway crap market sector."
"What nicer way to celebrate the feast day that marks the archangel St Michael's pious founding of a high-street food-and-knickers chain than by rampaging through residential areas dressed as fucking enormous daisies?" he added. "Preferably with bloody great scythes, or some kind of modified strimmer or flymo that can be rammed into an old git's face."
Tuesday, 6 October 2009
Nobel Prize Goes To Sorry Bastards Responsible For Camera Phones
The Nobel Prize for the Debasement of Science has been awarded to the horrible, horrible pricks who made it possible for each and every self-obsessed dullard on the planet to clutter up the internet with thousands of deeply uninteresting photographs of themselves and their like-minded friends doing the yawn-inducingly tedious things that all easily-amused piss artists feel compelled to do whenever one of their number pulls out a camera phone, the Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences announced today.
"Before the invention of the Charge-Coupled Device, the only way to capture these mind-numbing moments of inanity was to take along a camera, loaded with film which cost money to buy and even more money to develop," said the Nobel committee. "This tended to inhibit their photography - partly because the film usually ran out before things got really pointless, and secondly because when the prints came back the owner of the camera had sobered up enough to realise that they'd thrown away another tenner.
"Thanks to the tireless research of Willard Boyle and George Smith, however, every pissed-up retard can now snap away with their CCD-equipped mobiles to their heart's content, and instantly post the gut-wrenchingly unfunny results to their Facebook profile without stopping for a moment to ask themselves why in God's name anybody in their right mind could possibly want to cast their eye over yet another herd of slack-jawed inebriates. We want the whole world to know the names of Boyle and Smith, and we urge anyone with a brain to crap in an envelope and post it to them without delay."
The prize was jointly awarded to Charles Kao, without whose work on fibre-optic cables the internet would be so slow that it would almost certainly be restricted solely to stuff that somebody might actually find at least slightly interesting.
"Before the invention of the Charge-Coupled Device, the only way to capture these mind-numbing moments of inanity was to take along a camera, loaded with film which cost money to buy and even more money to develop," said the Nobel committee. "This tended to inhibit their photography - partly because the film usually ran out before things got really pointless, and secondly because when the prints came back the owner of the camera had sobered up enough to realise that they'd thrown away another tenner.
"Thanks to the tireless research of Willard Boyle and George Smith, however, every pissed-up retard can now snap away with their CCD-equipped mobiles to their heart's content, and instantly post the gut-wrenchingly unfunny results to their Facebook profile without stopping for a moment to ask themselves why in God's name anybody in their right mind could possibly want to cast their eye over yet another herd of slack-jawed inebriates. We want the whole world to know the names of Boyle and Smith, and we urge anyone with a brain to crap in an envelope and post it to them without delay."
The prize was jointly awarded to Charles Kao, without whose work on fibre-optic cables the internet would be so slow that it would almost certainly be restricted solely to stuff that somebody might actually find at least slightly interesting.
Friday, 26 June 2009
White Man of Black Origin Dies
The world's first and only recipient of a race transplant, Mackson Wackson, died last night after suffering cardiac failure at the age of 50, it was reported by all media.
Mr Wackson was born black, but died white several years after undergoing life-changing surgery at the hands of pioneering ethnologist Dr Strangelove.
"Mackson Wackson grew up very confused about his ethnic orientation," explained Dr Strangelove from his underground bunker this morning. "Well, I say grew up although of course I'm using the term rather loosely. Every morning he would look in the mirror and see a coloured man with a characteristic wide nose staring black at him, and this made him feel bad - really, really bad. He came to me in despair, and after he explained his bank account to me I agreed to conduct the world's first operation to remove a person's ethnic origin completely."
The surgery was conducted only after years of research by the chemical industry into developing special plastics which would reproduce the tone, texture and semi-permeable characteristics of human skin came to nothing. Mackson Wackson emerged from the operation more white than any white man in history, and with the world's smallest nose.
Sadly, Dr Strangelove was never able to cure Mr Wackson of his other terrible affliction, a crippling inability to walk forwards.
Mr Wackson was born black, but died white several years after undergoing life-changing surgery at the hands of pioneering ethnologist Dr Strangelove.
"Mackson Wackson grew up very confused about his ethnic orientation," explained Dr Strangelove from his underground bunker this morning. "Well, I say grew up although of course I'm using the term rather loosely. Every morning he would look in the mirror and see a coloured man with a characteristic wide nose staring black at him, and this made him feel bad - really, really bad. He came to me in despair, and after he explained his bank account to me I agreed to conduct the world's first operation to remove a person's ethnic origin completely."
The surgery was conducted only after years of research by the chemical industry into developing special plastics which would reproduce the tone, texture and semi-permeable characteristics of human skin came to nothing. Mackson Wackson emerged from the operation more white than any white man in history, and with the world's smallest nose.
Sadly, Dr Strangelove was never able to cure Mr Wackson of his other terrible affliction, a crippling inability to walk forwards.
Thursday, 26 February 2009
Ye Olde Edgy NME Awards Celebrate Rebirth of British Musical Talent
The stars of popular music and culture were out in force for the freshly-reinvented, cutting-edge NME Awards ceremony, held at the Globe Theatre last night.
The coveted Best Band title went to Britpop stalwarts Gilbert and Sullivan, who were sadly unable to attend the star-studded gala in person as they were currently working hard on being dead. A medium gave fans a graphic description of them receiving their award in the afterlife from Russell Brand, who was killed especially for the occasion.
However, the pair controversially lost out in the Hero of the Year category, which was won by US President Abraham Lincoln for his abolition of slavery - despite claims from some quarters that he shamelessly stole the idea from British experimentalists.
The duo's longstanding rivals, Flanagan and Allen, then presented a surprise to guests at the event by appearing on stage for the first time since they died, to deliver a barnstorming performance of their classic hit, 'Run Rabbit Run'.
Later in the evening, the Sexiest Male award went to long-dead bandleader Ted Heath - who, with His Orchestra, also won Best Live Band for the second year running, thanks to their clever fusion of elements of Dixieland jazz and swing into a dancefloor-friendly 'Big Band' sound.
The coveted award for Godlike Genius went to an ancient order of cowled monks, who have been steadily wowing generations of teenagers with their combination of in-your-face plainsong, epic polyphonic chants of Latin prayer and lusty renditions of 'Sumer Is Ycumen In' since the 13th century.
Finally, Villain of the Year - for the 1009th year in succession - was Satan, whose unholy works are, alas, still troubling the faithful even today.
The ceremony, hosted by edgy young comedian Geoffrey Chaucer, will be broadcast on Channel 4 when television is invented.
The coveted Best Band title went to Britpop stalwarts Gilbert and Sullivan, who were sadly unable to attend the star-studded gala in person as they were currently working hard on being dead. A medium gave fans a graphic description of them receiving their award in the afterlife from Russell Brand, who was killed especially for the occasion.
However, the pair controversially lost out in the Hero of the Year category, which was won by US President Abraham Lincoln for his abolition of slavery - despite claims from some quarters that he shamelessly stole the idea from British experimentalists.
The duo's longstanding rivals, Flanagan and Allen, then presented a surprise to guests at the event by appearing on stage for the first time since they died, to deliver a barnstorming performance of their classic hit, 'Run Rabbit Run'.
Later in the evening, the Sexiest Male award went to long-dead bandleader Ted Heath - who, with His Orchestra, also won Best Live Band for the second year running, thanks to their clever fusion of elements of Dixieland jazz and swing into a dancefloor-friendly 'Big Band' sound.
The coveted award for Godlike Genius went to an ancient order of cowled monks, who have been steadily wowing generations of teenagers with their combination of in-your-face plainsong, epic polyphonic chants of Latin prayer and lusty renditions of 'Sumer Is Ycumen In' since the 13th century.
Finally, Villain of the Year - for the 1009th year in succession - was Satan, whose unholy works are, alas, still troubling the faithful even today.
The ceremony, hosted by edgy young comedian Geoffrey Chaucer, will be broadcast on Channel 4 when television is invented.
Wednesday, 20 August 2008
It's Enough To Make Your Heart Go Sad
Glaswegians are celebrating in their usual fashion after it was announced that their home has been named a United Nations City of Music. The honour is bestowed by the UN’s cultural body, Unesco.
“We embrace the award on behalf of our talented musicians and composers, whose names temporarily escape me,” said Lord Provost Bob Winter. “I am confident this can only boost our musical ambitions and encourage and nurture future musical talent. Travis have already set the benchmark, as I believe they were briefly famous as far afield as Stirling and Dundee.”
Glasgow’s marketing officials let go of their bottles of Buckfast Wine for long enough to put together the winning 50-page bid in June. The document listed 127 musical events a week - including light-hearted community taunting at football matches, dozens of pubs with jukeboxes or karaoke nights, several homeless buskers and Wee Billy Bampot warbling The Celtic Song while having a widdle on his way home from the Thistle every Saturday night.
The prestigious title was officially presented by Unesco director-general Koichiro Matsuuro in a ceremony in Glasgow. Mr Matsuuro was then ceremonially presented with his teeth after an unscheduled display of Glaswegian martial arts by Mad Jimmy McTavish of that ilk.
“We embrace the award on behalf of our talented musicians and composers, whose names temporarily escape me,” said Lord Provost Bob Winter. “I am confident this can only boost our musical ambitions and encourage and nurture future musical talent. Travis have already set the benchmark, as I believe they were briefly famous as far afield as Stirling and Dundee.”
Glasgow’s marketing officials let go of their bottles of Buckfast Wine for long enough to put together the winning 50-page bid in June. The document listed 127 musical events a week - including light-hearted community taunting at football matches, dozens of pubs with jukeboxes or karaoke nights, several homeless buskers and Wee Billy Bampot warbling The Celtic Song while having a widdle on his way home from the Thistle every Saturday night.
The prestigious title was officially presented by Unesco director-general Koichiro Matsuuro in a ceremony in Glasgow. Mr Matsuuro was then ceremonially presented with his teeth after an unscheduled display of Glaswegian martial arts by Mad Jimmy McTavish of that ilk.
Wednesday, 14 May 2008
Tory Frontbencher in 'Shameless' Appeal for Credibility
The shadow Work and Pensions Secretary Chris Grayling has warned that many parents in the UK do not know how to bring up children. In a speech to the Reform think tank, the Conservative frontbencher claimed that parenting of the type seen in the Channel 4 series ‘Shameless’ has become the norm in many places.
“The problem is that these grotesque proles don’t have any Tory role models in their hideously blighted lives,” said Mr Grayling. “With no Conservative folk heroes to look up to, how do they stand a chance of bringing their godawful chav spawn up to vote Tory? That’s why I’m reducing a serious political debate to the level of name-dropping a popular TV show - in the vain hope that the scum who watch it may think that I have something in common with them.”
“The problem is that these grotesque proles don’t have any Tory role models in their hideously blighted lives,” said Mr Grayling. “With no Conservative folk heroes to look up to, how do they stand a chance of bringing their godawful chav spawn up to vote Tory? That’s why I’m reducing a serious political debate to the level of name-dropping a popular TV show - in the vain hope that the scum who watch it may think that I have something in common with them.”
Wednesday, 5 March 2008
Proms v. Corrie
Staying in the UK, and in a speech to the IPPR think-tank, Culture Minister Margaret Hodge has claimed that the Proms concerts attract too narrow a section of society. Instead, she singled out Coronation Street as an “icon of common culture that everybody can feel part of.”
“The Proms are full of boring, imperialistic classical music which only appeals to unreconstructed, top-hatted Tory toffs,” said the Culture Secretary. “And remember, the Nazis liked classical music. Whereas Coronation Street appeals to honest, easily-pleased, salt-of-the-earth Labour voters. I think it’s safe to say that Hitler never watched a single episode. Need I say more?”
Unreconstructed, top-hatted Tory toff David Cameron, however, claimed that Ms Hodge’s underdeveloped prole brain was simply not sufficiently refined to appreciate the aesthetic qualities of the understated yet complex tonal structures of the classical repertoire.
“It is a classic example of a Labour politician just not getting something,” he said. “When Margaret Hodge talks about a common culture, the emphasis is clearly on the common rather than the culture. I say, that’s rather a good one! Do write it down, Johnson, there’s a good chap, I may use it later against that plebby oik Brown.”
“The Proms are full of boring, imperialistic classical music which only appeals to unreconstructed, top-hatted Tory toffs,” said the Culture Secretary. “And remember, the Nazis liked classical music. Whereas Coronation Street appeals to honest, easily-pleased, salt-of-the-earth Labour voters. I think it’s safe to say that Hitler never watched a single episode. Need I say more?”
Unreconstructed, top-hatted Tory toff David Cameron, however, claimed that Ms Hodge’s underdeveloped prole brain was simply not sufficiently refined to appreciate the aesthetic qualities of the understated yet complex tonal structures of the classical repertoire.
“It is a classic example of a Labour politician just not getting something,” he said. “When Margaret Hodge talks about a common culture, the emphasis is clearly on the common rather than the culture. I say, that’s rather a good one! Do write it down, Johnson, there’s a good chap, I may use it later against that plebby oik Brown.”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)