Queen Visits Plymouth, Admires Floating Lump of Machinery, Buggers Off Again

Her Majesty the Queen and HRH the Duke of Edinburgh yesterday slipped into Devonport Naval Base to see a big grey metal object they last saw 12 years ago when it was first pushed into the sea.

Her Majesty the Queen and HRH the Duke of Edinburgh then slipped out of Plymouth again before any of the inbred mutants infesting the area beyond the dockyard wall found out she was there.

“Phew, that was close,” commented the captain of HMS Ocean afterwards.

The Derrick Bird I Knew: By Everybody In Cumbria

An army of journalists from the daily papers swarmed like locusts over the sleepy backwater county of Cumbria today, interrogating every shocked resident for their impressions of the berserk taxi driver.

Their painstaking efforts were rewarded, as they built up a complete picture of the most evil man the world has known since Tuesday.

Derrick Bird, it emerged, was a taciturn taxi-driver who always kept his thoughts to himself as he drove his passengers around; a devoted family who lived for his annual trips to Thailand; a jocular visitor to the village pub where he often regaled the regulars with his amusing silences; a cheerful outgoing loner who was well-liked by the people from whom he kept his distance.

It is increasingly likely, say the experienced hacks, that Bird’s serial slaughter was triggered by a combination of factors, including: an argument with other taxi drivers; a dispute over a family will; background radiation from Windscale; nitrogen narcosis brought on by years of scuba-diving; one Bettaware catalogue too many on his doorstep; or a hitherto-unsuspected sympathy for moles.

“Each of these motives might, to the inexpert eye, appear somewhat unlikely to unleash the homicidal maniac who lurks within us all,” warned a psychological profiler today. “In combination, however, they form the classic blueprint for mass murder.”

Shooting Innocent Civilians Not A Job For The General Public, Say Police

As a shocked Britain reeled around the North Sea like a punch-drunk boxer in the aftermath of Derrick Bird’s deadly shooting spree, police chiefs urged the public to remember that gunning down harmless people in broad daylight is a job best left to the experts.

“This blood-crazed nutter displayed a shocking lack of consideration for his unfortunate victims,” said Britain’s top female police officer, Cressida Dick. “Gun ownership must be the exclusive preserve of responsible death squads who adhere to strict rules, such as Rule 1 – only shoot people whom nobody in Britain gives a stuff about. Brazilians who have outstayed their visas are a particularly enticing target.”

Don’t Just Stand There, Home Secretary – Do Something

THE NEV FILTER ASKS: how many more lives, Theresa May, must be blown away before the government takes the necessary steps to prevent these horrific mass shootings from ever happening again?

That is why Nev has compiled a list of demands, which he is sending to the spineless Home Secretary - who has never once, in all her weeks in office, said a single word against the powerful vested interests that run Britain’s notorious target-shooting ‘clubs’.

- An IMMEDIATE BAN on all firearms except those which unfurl a flag bearing the word ‘BANG’;
- Next, an ALMOST AS IMMEDIATE BAN on so-called ‘games’ consoles, so that NEVER AGAIN can impressionable 52-year-old minds be BRAINWASHED by the SICK writers of Grand Theft Auto in the ways of EXECUTING innocent bystanders;
- The SWIFT IMPRISONMENT for life of ALL middle-aged men living ON THEIR OWN;
- An URGENT INQUIRY to establish the level of GUILT directly apportionable to the cynical SIR BOB GELDOF for his utterly SICKENING murder anthem, ‘I Don’t Like Mondays’.

If you agree with these COMMON-SENSE demands, make your feelings clear to our irresponsibly complacent government TODAY. Print them out now, write OR ELSE on the back in lipstick and pin them to the door of 10 Downing Street with a carving knife.

THE TIME HAS COME to finally legislate once and for all against random nutters. They will say it can’t be done; but I’m a random nutter and I say IT CAN.

What I Saw From 2000 Miles Away: Melanie Phillips’ Eyewitness Account of Israeli Raid

Respected British journalist Melanie Phillips has braved world opinion by releasing her startling eyewitness account of what really happened on the Marmara, the aid-carrying ship ambushed by Israeli commandos yesterday.

Writing on the Spectator’s website, Ms Phillips tells how she witnessed the assault at first hand from her desk two thousand miles away in London.

“What the lazy, ignorant and bigoted BBC aren’t telling you is that these so-called ‘peace activists’ planned the attack from the outset,” she explained. “The Marmite was in fact loaded to the gunwales with wire-guided knives, heat-seeking cricket bats and pipes made of depleted uranium - deadly weapons in the arsenal of six hundred trained jihadists hell-bent on martyrdom. They deliberately steered their warship straight into the midst of a small group of off-duty Israeli reservists - who were harmlessly playing a friendly game of sea paintball in their rowing boats and towed gyro-kites - with nothing but bloody massacre in mind.”

The frightened Israelis desperately tried to escape, swore Ms Phillips, but evil strongmen trained in a secret al-Qaeda circus grasped the gyro-kites’ whirling rotors and dragged them down onto the decks, while the ship’s bows opened to swallow up the fleeing rowers. The terrified captives feebly fired their paint pellets – all of which, owing to shortages caused by cruelly-misguided UN sanctions, happened to be red - at the seething army of chanting terrorists, who only retreated after their weapons had all been broken over the heads of the hapless Israelis.

Ms Phillips stoutly maintains that it was then that the masked death squads brought out their deadliest weapons: BB slings, each one capable of unleashing a lethal marble that can easily kill if fired at point-blank range into an unprotected brain.

It was only at this point that one of the beleaguered Israelis remembered he still had the flare pistol with which he had started his innocent paintball game, and with one lucky shot managed to subdue the six hundred trained killers.

“It is clear that the entire world has got the wrong end of the stick, as usual,” said the omniscient Ms Phillips, as the woefully ill-informed UN Security Council issued a tragically wrong-headed condemnation of Israel. “The Israeli government has only got itself to blame for not getting its honest, unbiased version of events across to anyone but me.”

“It’s a good job I happened to be close by in London to witness the truth of these shocking events at the far end of the Mediterranean,” she added, before returning to her fearless exposé of the communist threat facing us all.

Elderly Lady Launches Scathing Attack On The State Of Things Nowadays

The morality of the times is today withering under a hail of blistering criticism from a little old lady who is telling everybody she meets that “it’s all sex, sex, sex.”

Doughty Mrs Joan Bakewell suddenly launched her tirade at a surprised care assistant who had just brought her breakfast tray, saying that everything “started going wrong in the sixties, when all those drug-crazed hippies started calling for free love, with their long hair and what have you.” She added that she was “seventy-seven!” before adding, “Seventy-seven!”

Warming to her theme, Mrs Bakewell harangued her dozing fellow-residents of the Sunset Home For Retired Broadcasters with a devastating critique of the pill, the legalisation of abortion, bra-burning lesbian suffragettes and the horrors of the Woodstock Festival.

“Them and their sexual revolution!” she raged, drowning out the familiar drone of Breakfast Television X in the residents’ lounge. “They even said sex was pleasurable and wholesome, when we all know perfectly well that it’s dirty and wicked and only to be tolerated when the husband instructs his lady wife that he’s very much afraid to say the time has come to create an heir to carry on the family name.”

“Now it’s sex, sex, sex everywhere you look,” she thundered, spilling tea everywhere. “We tried to tell them that women are pretty little fools who couldn’t make a sensible decision if our lives depended on it, but would they listen? Oh no! So now we’re in a pretty pass where single mums, without the reassuring authority of a man in the household, dress their poor little bastards – and I’m sorry, but that’s the only proper word - dress their little bastards in push-up bras and crotchless nappies before cheerfully delivering them into the clutches of perverts in raincoats outside the school gates!”

“And I’ll tell you another thing,” she fumed. “Every week in Smith’s I have to fumble through yards of the vilest pornography imaginable to find a copy of the People’s Friend. Where will it all end?”

Eventually Mrs Bakewell’s shrieks woke veteran newshorse Richard Baker from his daydreams, causing him to mumble that back in the sixties the most prominent campaigner for sexual liberation was, in fact, her.

With barely a pause for breath, Mrs Bakewell described Mr Baker’s recollections as the senile ramblings of a silly old twit, maintaining stoutly that “that Mrs Whitehouse had the right idea” and adding that she was seventy-seven before the duty manager finally managed to convince her to take her tablets.

Film Critics Divided Over New Israeli Blockade-Buster Hit

Newly-released movie ‘Pirates of the Mediterranean’ opened around the world this morning to mixed reviews, with an enthusiastic thumbs-up from Israel’s filmgoers tempered by brickbats from critics in Britain, Denmark, France, Germany, Greece, Ireland, Italy, Sweden and Turkey.

The boisterous sea-going romp features an outnumbered band of jolly ne’er-do-wells (the Israeli Commandos, led by stylish, charming heart-throb Johnny Depp) on a madcap mission to intercept deadly humanitarian treasure before it falls into the clutches of evil, moustachio-twirling Palestinian civilians.

“The wobbly camera-work follows the regrettable modern fad of foregoing the use of a Steadicam to generate a spurious feeling of authenticity,” said a Foreign Office reviewer in London. “However, the feisty action sequences - in which a handful of jolly pirates, armed to the teeth and decked out their traditional striped handkerchiefs – cheefully leap into action against literally hundreds of club-wielding passengers are brilliantly choreographed. There’s a lot of killing, needless to say - but concerned parents will be relieved to learn that the blood-letting mostly takes place off-screen.”

The film is set in international waters, against a historical backdrop of Israel’s unilateral blockade of the lawless Gaza Strip. The plot - which some critics say is lost completely - involves a Turkish galleon setting sail to beat the blockade with its fabulous treasure of K-rations and sticking plasters, fiercely guarded by a rag-tag crew of six hundred peace-crazed ruffians scoured from the four corners of the globe. The boarding party of cheeky Israeli pirates sets off in a motley flotilla of leaky helicopters and wormy inflatables, determined to intercept the lumbering galleon and seize the prized aid before it can succour the desperate Palestinian hordes.

“Our happy-go-lucky heroes aren’t afraid of anything,” said enthusiastic fan Binyamin Netunyahu, who is proud of his huge collection of pirate toys. “Least of all what the world thinks of them.”

The world is already looking forward eagerly to a sequel, in which the US leads a huge fleet of heavily-armed men-o-war into the area to prevent any further acts of wanton piracy and bring the dashing cut-throats to justice. However, film buffs are predicting a long and disappointing wait.

Greece Fails In Bid To Be More Unpopular Than UK

Notwithstanding its valiant efforts to single-handedly bring down the entire eurozone and hurl the entire world back into the darkest depths of global recession, Greece failed last night to knock the UK off the top spot of Most Hated Country in the Europe’s Got No Talent song contest.

“Greece’s entry was as hateful as they could possibly make it,” said some tragic cloth-eared gimp who claimed to be an expert at this sort of thing. “The costumes that Georgios Alcoholios and Fuckbuddies wore were straight out of some camp travesty of Saturday Night Fever as it might be reimagined by Baz Luhrmann, just as the rules specify. As for the song itself, its infantile melody sticks in the memory like an evil brain-parasite, and its numbly anodyne lyrics were straight out of the International Business English dictionary.”

“Unfortunately for the Greeks, however, it’s impossible to ignore the unsurpassable loathsomeness of Great Britain in the eyes of the rest of the world,” he added. “Just as the hate factor for compliantly kicking off two unwinnable wars just to please George Dubya Bush was beginning to wear off, the rapacious thieving bastards of your notorious Square Mile ushered in the most devastating global economic meltdown since World War 2. That knocked four contenders right out of the contest before it even began – thanks to you, there isn’t a soul in Hungary, the Czech Republic, Montenegro or Andorra who was able to scrape together the cash for a train ticket to Oslo.”

Not content to rest on those laurels however, 8-year-old Josh Dubovine’s impassioned rending of “Any Old Shit Sounds Good To Me” came to the contest backed with the curse of 80s refugees Pete Waterman and Mike Stock, who are directly responsible for kicking off the irreversible downward spiral in popular taste that has brought the UK to a dark place where millions now sincerely believe that characterless vomit-streams of saccharine notes – which even Jimmy Young in his heyday would have considered too insipid to play on his Prog – are actually valid songs.

Needless to say, then, Greece’s hopes of achieving the coveted bottom spot were cruelly shattered as the British noise comfortably romped home with ten points.

Losers of the contest were Germany, whose 7-year-old representative Lena faces almost certain lynching when she returns home after securing an unwelcome 246 points - ensuring that Germany will be bankrupted back to the stone age by the ruinous cost of staging next year’s pointless extravaganza.

Dunkirk Remembered - By The BNP

Today we remember those fateful far-off days, now 70 years ago, when the tattered remnants of the British National Expeditionary Force were completely surrounded by ghastly foreign bastards on a small beach on the wrong side of the White English Channel, and how their miraculous rescue by a flotilla of little shits has become the stuff of legend.

The precise reasons for the British National Expeditionary Force being in the land of wine-guzzling Johnny Frog need not concern us too deeply. Suffice it to say that Hitler had the right idea, but his fatal flaw was that he was a bloody foreigner. Thousands of patriotic white Englishmen – and let’s not forget that, despite what the revisionist mainstream parties would have you believe, our inclusive forces also featured many loyal Jocks, Micks and Taffies in minor non-combatant roles – had faithfully answered their country’s call to arms in its hour of need, to crush Hitler’s jackbooted Paki hordes which threatened to wipe out thousands of years of white civilisation. Predictably, after being let down by our so-called European ‘partners’, faithful Billy Atkins and his white comrades-in-arms were trapped with their backs to the sea, facing the most ignominious defeat in white history.

Fortunately, however, salvation was at hand. Back in dear old Blighty, BNP founder-member Winston Churchill – at that time sidelined by the homosexual Establishment and vilified in the communist-dominated press just for standing up and being proud to be British – realised that something had to be done to save the British National Expeditionary Force from a massacre. So he got on the blower and selflessly set about doing something for others - a trait unique, of course, to the morally-superior white race.

One of the many establishment-spread lies that still endures about Dunkirk is that there was no air cover. The long-suppressed truth is that, although the beleaguered heroes on the beach-head swore that the UK Air Party were giving them no support whatsoever, in fact the doughty moustachioed warriors of the skies were just out of sight, fighting a brave battle over Brussels. For example, heroic Brylcreem boy Nigel Farage fearlessly towed his wing commander’s pennant into the air against overwhelming odds, only to prang his iconic and 100% British-made Stuka on the shoreline - to cruelly misplaced jeers from the very lads he was trying to help!

Meanwhile, as our white boys took ineffectual pot-shots at the circling darky bombers threatening their traditional way of life, Winston’s plucky little shits were steaming valiantly to the rescue. Our brave lads scrambled furiously over the mole who leaked the membership list and clambered aboard the flimsy rescuing shits, which often came close to sinking. And it was with heavy heart that the last of the shits finally sailed over the horizon – tragically abandoning plucky young Lt. Nick Griffin, who was left behind after fighting a hopeless rearguard action, only to be completely overrun at the last minute.

And so our dauntless fighting boys returned empty-handed but unbowed to dear old Blighty, where they bravely kept up the unequal fight against the Paki menace with whatever they could improvise - such as hastily-manufactured shit-throwers made, with typical white ingenuity, entirely out of old t-shirts.

And so the British National Expeditionary Force passed into history. Let all patriotic white Englishmen stand together and say with pride that, at the going-down-the-pan of the Daily Mail, we will remember them.

Tories Complete Unlikely Beatification of Alastair Campbell

The hitherto-inconcievable beatification of Alastair Campbell only awaits the approval of the Pope, after the government wailed petulantly and threw its toys at the BBC for having the cheek to book the Labour Party’s liar-in-chief for tonight’s Question Time instead of some dolt from the shadow cabinet who isn't too busy running around trying to collect nominations for the party's leadership contest.

“How dare the BBC field somebody who is skilled at answering back?” intoned creepy backbench android John Redwood, the last-minute stand-in in for David Laws, the Chief Secretary to the Treasury, who pulled out in protest and is making repeated efforts to hold his breath until he turns blue. “The government expects to be given an easy target - Liam Byrne, maybe, or Bob Ainsworth - to hold up to public ridicule.”

The transformation of Mr Campbell from hated spinmeister to revered icon has been one of the most remarkable political journeys ever taken by a partisan civil servant. After years of being reviled by the nation for his blatant lies about the circumstances leading up to the invasion of Iraq, Mr Campbell began to elicit sympathy from TV viewers when he appeared to suffer a complete nervous breakdown during a relentless interrogation by the BBC’s dreaded Andrew Marr, bursting into tears shortly after inserting a shallot into his right nostril.

Next, Mr Campbell unexpectedly lifted the hearts of the nation in the dark days of the interregnum following the election, remaining calm and unruffled when Sky News’ political editor on behalf of the Conservative Party, Adam Boulton, unexpectedly went berserk live on air and physically attacked him by repeatedly jabbing a potentially lethal finger at himself.

Now he finds himself the unwitting victim of a clumsy, failed attempt by Downing Street to interfere with the editorial independence of the BBC.

“I’m expecting to receive my halo from His Holiness any day now,” admitted Mr Campbell. “He understands very well the value of a first-rate propagandist - in fact, he tells me he had it drummed into him in childhood.”

Meanwhile, BBC bosses say they are surprised that nobody has yet objected to the inclusion of Piers Morgan in tonight’s broadcast.