‘Death To My Enemies,’ Urges Palin In The Nicest Possible Way

This picture is completely meaningless

America’s next idiot president, Sarah Palin, has reacted angrily to suggestions that publishing a graphic of congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords with cross-hairs superimposed on it might in some way have given ranty loner gunman Jared Looner the idea to shoot her.

“Anti-American gay commies are making unresponsible statements about mah rilly responsible publicity campaign,” screeched Ms Palin. “Well, since when did anyone ever take anything ah say seriously? Ha! Got ya there, ya pinko scumbags!”

“Ah urge all mah supporters to grab their weapons, go out and shoot me a lefty liberal before sundown,” she screamed in a video statement aired across the United States. “Of course, ah mean this solely in the context of political rhetoric, and it should in no way be taken as a call to pump every last filthy Democrat fulla lead.”

“Let me make this crystal clear,” she added vehemently, as images of every Democratic politician flashed across the nation’s screens, marked with 50 points on the chest and 100 for a headshot. “The last idea ah want to put in mah supporters’ redneck heads is a massive armed uprising against the Democrats, who undoubtedly deserve to go down in a hail of bullets, and anybody who says otherwise must be put up against a hypothetical wall and metaphorically shot.”

Tate & Lyle Nominated For Nobel Prize

The pharmacist will see you now

Shortly after the General Pharmaceutical Council’s dismissal of charges against a pharmacy chain which sells sugar to idiots who think that vaccines are all a big plot to kill them, the Nobel Committee announced that Tate & Lyle were now the front-runners for this year’s outstanding contribution to medicine.

A spokesman for Ainsworths, the chemists who recommend homeopathy for malaria prevention, leapt up from behind the counter wearing a huge, terrifying mask, shook his juju bag until a corner of a sugar lump fell out and screamed, “That’ll be 25 quid mate.”

“Look, it’s pyramid shaped too,” he added as he pranced about, shaking a large twig topped with an Action Man head. “That’s the best immunisation that money can buy.”

Tracey Brown - the director of Sense About Science, which brought the charges - told reporters: “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” before emigrating in search of a country where at least one person in authority has more intelligence than a whelk.

Sea Trek: The Degeneration

Ref: US Navy Captain Owen Honors loses post over lewd videos 

SCENE I: INT. The female ratings’ showers of the U.S.S. ENTERPRISE. Two women are gasping ecstatically as they soap each other.

VOICE-OVER: CAPTAIN JAMES T. JERK (for it is he)

Sex – the final frontier. These are the voyages of the soft pornstarship Enterprise. Its six-month mission: to speak out lewd words; crude generalisations; to bodily go where no DV-cam has gone before!

(Grams: Funky wah-wah guitar intro.)

SCENE II. INT: The ENTERPRISE bridge. YEOMAN RANDY, who appears to have forgotten her underwear, is pointing a camcorder at CAPTAIN JERK, while a clearly-aroused MR SCOCK focuses his attention on a What-The-Butler-Saw viewer. LIEUTENANT EBONY is at the communications console, with a strange silvery object in the usual orifice. ENSIGN JAKOV is having a fiddle at the controls, while LIEUTENANT SMELU is grinning like a wanking Jap, because that’s what he is. Outside, scantily-clad female sailors are doing unmentionable things in the rigging.

JERK

Pornstardate 2007, Tuesday. The uh, Enterprise is on deployment, patrolling the borders uh, of the erogenous zone. The crew are uh, looking forward to a spot of well-earned R&R uh, involving a lot of FFM, maybe a little uh, CFNM and uh, possibly a spot of simulated S&M.

(SFX. Doors open with a sigh of pleasure. DR. ‘MOANS’ MUCKY steps out of the pornolift.)

JERK

Moans uh, what brings you to the bridge? No uh, action in dickbay?

(Cue: crew fall out of chairs laughing)

MUCKY

It’s all this skirtin’ aroun’ th’ erogenous zone, Jim. Ah doan’ lahk it. Who knows what those dirty Iraqulan women are up to out there, hidden from saht under a veil of darkness? It keeps me awake at nights jes’ thinkin’ about it.

JERK

I know how you feel, Moans - and uh, a lot of the crew feel the same uh, way. It uh, seems there’s a whole lot of feeling going on uh, aboard the Enterprise! 

(Cue: crew fall out of chairs laughing)

Something’s wrong - I just can’t quite put my finger on it.

SMELU

Ooh, I can help you with that, Captain!

(Cue: crew fall out of chairs laughing)

JERK

Thank you, Mr Smelu, but I uh, don’t think that will be necessary. Get a uh, grip on yourself.

SMELU

I already have!

(Cue: crew fall out of chairs laughing)

JERK

I uh, need to take this in hand. I’ll uh, be in my uh, quarters with Yeoman Randy.

(He gets up and leaves. SFX: Doors sigh.)

SCOCK

I have been reviewing the security footage of the female crewmembers’ quarters, Doctor. I find it quite fascinating.

MUCKY

Why, you green-blooded…

(SFX: Blue alert.)

JAKOV

Unidentified wessel approaching, Mr Scock!

SCOCK

Raise trousers, Mr Jakov. Lt. Ebony, open hailing frequencies.

JAKOV

Trousers raised, serr!

EBONY

No response, Mr Scock. I don’t usually have that trouble.

(SFX: doors sigh. JERK stumbles onto the bridge, quickly tucking his shirt into his trousers, which appear to be on back to front.)

SCOCK

Status report, Mr Smelu?

SMELU

It appears to be a Federation shuttlecraft, Mr Scock. It’s not responding to Lt. Ebony at all. This could be my lucky day!

(Cue: crew fall out of chairs laughing)

EBONY

Incoming emission, Captain!

JERK

Uh, on screen.

JAKOV

But ve are just getting to the best bit, serr!

JERK

Contain yourself, Mr Jakov.

JAKOV

(disappointed)

Too late, serr.

EBONY

Sir, it’s Admiral Obama. He wants to come aboard.

JERK

Don’t we all?

(To screen)

Cancel blue alert. Uh, Admiral - this is an uh, unexpected uh, pleasure.

OBAMA

Sorry, Jim, but Seafleet Command has had reports of unusual activity in this sector and I’m here to make a snap inspection of the Enterprise. I trust there’ll be no hard feelings.

JAKOV

(under his breath)

Not any more!

JERK

Mr Scock - Dr Mucky - meet me in the Transporner Room in five minutes. Uh, full dress uniforms for the Admiral.

SCENE III: INT. TRANSPORNER ROOM. LT CMDR HOTT is at the console, looking rather flushed.

(SFX: Doors sigh. Enter JERK and MR SCOCK in formal uniform.)

JERK

I hope you’ve got uh, a steady hand today, Hottie. We don’t want any uh, little accidents.

HOTTIE

Och, a’ haed a wee one earlier, Cap’n. A’ve jis’ done wipin’ the console doon. Where’s Dr Mucky?

(SFX: Doors sigh. Enter DR MUCKY, dressed as a Japanese schoolgirl.)

MUCKY

Oh. You meant those dress uniforms.

HOTTIE

The Admiral willnae want tae be kep' waitin', Cap’n.

JERK

Too late, Moans. Hottie, uh - enerjizz!

(SFX: cheesy 70s Hammond organ music. VFX: ADMIRAL OBAMA materialises.)

JERK

Welcome aboard, sir.

OBAMA

No need for the formalities, Jim. This must be Mr Scock - but who’s this pretty little thing?

JERK

Uh, this is my chief medical offender, Dr Mucky, sir.

(MUCKY curtsies.)

SCOCK

I believe the good doctor is conducting research into making uniforms more comfortable, Admiral.

OBAMA

Excellent, excellent – you must send me a copy of the report, Mucky.

MUCKY

I’ll make sure it’s exceptionally well illustrated, Admiral.

OBAMA

I’m sure it’ll be a pleasure. Now, the Bridge please, gentlemen.

SCOCK

If I may say so, Admiral, I’m not sure that would be entirely wise.

(But ADMIRAL OBAMA is already at the door, which opens with a particularly ecastatic SFX gasp.)

OBAMA

Er… is that usual, Jim?

JERK

I’m afraid we’re, uh, running a bit low on oil, Admiral.

(SFX: door moans "Oil!" with pleasure.)

SCENE IV: INT. The BRIDGE.

(SFX: Doors pant open.)

Enter JERK, OBAMA, MR SCOCK and DR MUCKY.

SMELU

Ooh-ooh-ooh! Admiral on the bridge! Hello, sailor!

(Cue: crew fall out of chairs laughing)

OBAMA

As you were. Gentlemen - I just want you to carry on as normal.

SMELU

Ooh, get him with his “carry on”! I Sorry, sailor boy, but I don’t do anything normal!

(Cue: crew fall out of chairs laughing)

SCOCK

Dr Mucky, I believe Lieutenant Smelu is due for his annual physical in Dickbay.

MUCKY

Why, you pointy-eared hobgoblin… er, will y’ excuse us, Admiral?

(ADMIRAL OBAMA nods curtly.)

SMELU

Come on, big boy! I hope you’ve got warm hands! Who‘s your dressmaker?

(Cue: crew fall out of chairs laughing again.) SMELU and a muttering DR MUCKY exit.

(SFX: Doors leer suggestively.)

JERK sits in his chair, which begins to vibrate loudly – he hastily presses a button to stop it.

OBAMA

What’s that up there on the screen, Captain Jerk? There seem to be strange, amorphous blobs out there, just hanging in space.

JAKOV

I’m terribly sorry, Keptin. Ve got a leetle carried away.

(Cue: crew fall out of chairs laughing. A panel explodes, messily. JAKOV takes out a heavily-soiled handkerchief and goes forward to wipe the screen. ADMIRAL OBAMA moves over to the science station and peers into the What-The-Butler-Saw viewer.)

OBAMA

What on earth…? Those women are out of uniform!

SCOCK

Er… As a Vulcan I am interested in all aspects of human behaviour, Admiral. My current field of study requires me to observe non-procreative mating rituals, particularly among human females.

OBAMA

That may be, Mr Scock, but Seafleet has strict regulations regarding the improper use of photon torpedoes!

(Cue: crew fall out of chairs laughing)

JERK

Uh, with all due respect, Admiral, it’s been a while since you last had any hands-on experience of uh, running a ship.

EBONY

(removing top)

You can get your hands on these babies any time you like, Admiral!

(SFX: Alarms go off everywhere, panels explode, doors fly open screaming “Yes! Yes!” Cue: crew roll on floor laughing.)

OBAMA

Jerk! This is the slackest crew I’ve ever seen!

SMELU

(appearing naked and proud in doorway)

Chance would be a fine thing!

OBAMA

Captain Jerk, I’m relieving you with immediate effect!

SMELU

You lucky bitch! I’ve been dreaming about that for years! Mind if I watch?

(SFX: Blue alerts, panels explode all over the bridge. Crew roll on floor helplessly. JAKOV and EBONY dive under a console and start throwing items of clothing in the air.

JERK

(forlornly)

Beam me up, Hottie.

(Grams: more cheesy wakka-wakka guitars. Roll end credits.)

Happy 2010 From Apple!

Each pattern is satisfyingly unique

Achingly hip iPhone 4 users gradually woke up this afternoon to a cheerful greeting from the gadget that makes them better than the likes of us, wishing them a smug and superior 2010 from Apple.

“Here at Apple HQ, we’re confident that 2010 will prove to be even more exciting than 2011 was!” commented chief prick Steve Jobs, in a seasonal text message to his global mindslave community.

“I’m sure my supervisor will understand my non-arrival this morning when I tell him that my iPhone decided, for undoubtedly excellent reasons I don’t need to bother myself with, that I didn’t need to go to work today,” smiled self-styled ‘web designer’ Josh Geake, one of many insufferable twats whose iPhone alarm has chosen not to go off this year. “I feel nothing but pity for all the cattle whose cheap, inferior technology forced them to rejoin the rat race today.”

“I also feel sorry for all those bottom-feeders who have to post photos all over the internet without the hallmark green blob in the middle, thus proclaiming to the world that they are too poor to own an iPhone,” he yawned. “And it’s hard to believe, but these Luddites are still unaware that the plus sign is now the international symbol for turning the volume down.”

“My beloved £800 iPhone has revolutionised my social life,” he added with a self-satisfied smirk. “If it wasn’t for those ultra-fashionable yellow dots on the screen, über-cool cracks in the back panel and a string of exciting undocumented features involving the virtual camera shutter, proximity sensor, battery life and 3G speed and waiting to discover the correctly hip way to hold it, I’d never have had so many opportunities to inteface with so many beautiful trend-setters just like me queueing up for hours at the Genius Bar.”

Tragically, Stephen Fry was unable to offer a characteristically witty insight into the latest exciting iPhone drama, presumably because he was still snoring away merrily.

Miliband Suddenly Realises VAT Increase Will Make Stuff Cost More

Those large buttons are a big help to little Miliband fingers

Ed Miliband, a little boy who leads the Labour Party, has just worked out that the VAT increase due to come into effect at midnight will make things cost a bit more.

“I got this brilliant calculator from my brother David for Christmas,” enthused Mr Miliband. “I showed it to my uncle Alan the postman this morning – he’s a shadow chancellor in his spare time – and he explained it all to me. Apparently that ‘%’ button isn’t much help at all! You have to use your head a bit, but if you times the price of something by 0.8510638, then times that by 1.2, that’s how much it’s going to cost tomorrow.”

“And it’s a bigger number!” he exclaimed.

Mr Miliband then went on to explain to a room of hung-over journalists that poor people seem to be poor because they don’t have an awful lot of money, and that buying things that cost more will make them even poorer.

“So my advice to poor people is not to buy things any more, and then they won’t be poor any more,” he concluded brightly.

Posh boy chancellor George Osborne, however, replied that his uncle Vincent - who is a bit barmy and goes dancing every evening - had given him a really good scientific calculator for Christmas, and he had worked out how to do compound interest all by himself, with a bit of help from a nice man from the Treasury.

“Apparently VAT is charged on every transaction, not just the point of sale,” he gushed enthusiastically, “So VAT is added when the manufacturer sells his product to the wholesaler, and again when the wholesaler sells it to the retailer and yet again when the retailer sells it to you. That’s why great-uncle Ted introduced it in the first place, apparently, when I was two. Add in their profits, and prices are jolly well going to go up by a bit more than the measly 2½% the dopey proles are expecting.”

“It ends up more like 10%, actually,” he chortled. “Next time little Ed’s mum takes him to Toys’R’Us to spend his pocket money, he’s going to poo himself.”

Pope’s New Year Encyclical: Dissimulavero Moderari Meo Mensam Nefastam

Not what it looks like at all

Just a day ahead of an EU deadline requiring him to clean up his financial act, Pope Benedict XVI has confirmed the moral authority of the Roman Catholic church with a message of hope for the New Year contained in his latest encyclical, ‘Dissimulavero moderari meo mensam nefastam’, (‘I shall pretend to run my crooked bank properly’).

The somewhat belated step towards the moral high ground comes after Italian judges ordered the seizure of £19m which the Vatican had tried to deposit in a commercial bank in St Peter’s Square, without any explanation of where it had come from or who it was intended for, and began a criminal investigation into the sacred bank’s director and his deputy.

The Pope then tried to evade international laws on money laundering by claiming that his bank was not really a bank at all, but an Institute for Works of Religion. Financial regulators then sang the response, ‘Pa aliam filiolus Jacobus in eo campanae’, (‘Pull the other one, sonny Jim - it’s got bells on’), and dismissed him with a demand to clean up his act by 31st December or else.

Successive popes throughout the ages have maintained a tradition of pretending that things are not what they might appear to be to the simple, unenlightened layman. For example, the Vatican is not just a big church with rather a lot of administrative wings tacked onto it, but an important nation state with embassies and a seat at the UN, while a doddery old bloke in a big hat is actually God’s personal spokesman on earth and a Nazi anti-aircraft gun is in fact Christ’s Blessed Finger of Thunderous Mercy.

Northern Ireland Water Goes Into Hiding After Martin McGuinness Says ‘Heads Should Roll’

Down with this sort of thing

Everyone on the payroll of Northern Ireland Water has disappeared today, after deputy First Minister and former IRA deputy commander Martin McGuinness told the Stormont Assembly that “heads should roll” for leaving 80,000 people without water for days.

“We can neither confirm nor deny that the holding cells of every police station in the province are crammed full of water workers demanding protection,” said a spokesman for the PSNI. “Nor can we verify reports that every flight out of Belfast today was standing-room only.”

When it was pointed out to him that NIW is a state-owned utility and therefore, ultimately, the responsibility of the government, Mr McGuinness swiftly excused himself from the assembly chamber, then reappeared half an hour later wearing a reinforced polycarbonate neck brace – much to the chagrin of Ian Paisley, who had turned up outside with a hacksaw.

Clegg Destroys Credibility Of Last Remaining Trustworthy LibDem MP

Mr Hughes will soon get used to his new self-igniting trousers

Simon Hughes, the sole remaining member of the Liberal Democrats with an ounce of public support, was fatally compromised today by his appointment by deputy PM Nick Clegg to sell to a sceptical public the hated tuition fees increase which he alone had the integrity to denounce.

Mr Hughes has already appeared in several interviews looking shifty and untrustworthy, and will soon be doing the same in schools up and down the country – thus ensuring that an entire generation of future voters will never vote Liberal Democrat for as long as they live.

“This is a master stroke by my very good friend Nick,” commented prime minister David Cameron. “Now that twerp Hughes looks even more two-faced than his party colleagues in the Cabinet. At least their craven behaviour is a product of simple human greed, which everyone can understand - but as he won’t get paid a penny extra for casting aside his precious principles, the only possible explanation is that he is gutless to the core.”

“The only way that any LibDem politicians can now hope to ever get themselves elected again,” he giggled, “Is to formally merge their party with ours, and stand as Conservatives. Something for LibDem councillors to think about between now and May, perhaps?”

Charitable Britons Not Exactly Jumping For Joy At Promise Of Patronising Letter From Junior Minister Of Paperclips

+ Citizen transaction detected +

The government’s suggestion that some junior minister’s secretary might post a patronising form letter to members of the public who make large donations to charity has somehow failed to generate the hoped-for dancing in the streets, Cabinet Office minister Francis Maude admitted this evening.

“On the one hand, people seem to appreciate that simply having cash deducted from every transaction they make frees them from the onerous responsibility of having to actually think for themselves about which charities they might wish to support,” he said. “Unfortunately, however, people seem to have noticed that a suitable-for-framing letter from a government minister congratulating them on their generosity rather implies that the government will be keeping complete records of every single transaction they make, right down to which cash machines they use, and for some reason they find this rather irksome.”

Charities have already welcomed the scheme, albeit with some reservations.

“We think the scheme doesn’t quite go far enough,” said John Low, the rather well-paid chief executive of some strange and hitherto unnecessary entity calling itself the ‘Charities Aid Foundation’. “What we would greatly prefer to see is a scheme whereby everybody’s wages are automatically paid direct to us, and we can then opt to make the occasional one-off donation of a small percentage of their earnings to people whenever a rare mood of philanthropic benevolence briefly takes us.”

Daily Mail Urges All Right-Thinking Christian Folk To Put Sick Assembly-Ban Perverts To The Torch

The Daily Mail – the nation’s appointed upholder of the timeless Christian values of love, charity, understanding and public burnings – reacted today with Christ-like tolerance to calls from the National Secular Society for the abolition of compulsory religious school assemblies, which are required under the 1944 Education Act, by calling on all God’s children to hunt down every last godless heathen scum and send them all to the purifying flame.

The society’s antichrist-in-chief, Keith Porteous, sowed the seeds for his own richly-deserved consignation to the everlasting agonies of the pit in a shameful letter to education secretary Michael Gove.

They won't be teaching any more of that Darwin nonsense

“We believe that the mandatory daily acts of mainly Christian worship and, in particular, the imposition on children to take part in such acts, represent an infringement of rights,” wrote the brazen tool of Satan. “We recognise that assemblies with an ethical framework have a vital contribution to make to school life. We do, however, object to collective worship in principle, as not being a legitimate activity of a state-funded institution.”

On reading the hate-filled atheists’ wicked diatribe, Mail editor Paul Dacre was sorely stricken with a fit of holy righteousness and commanded his scribe, Neil Sarse, to rouse up the faithful followers of the Lord.

“Jesus never uttered a word about ‘human rights’,” he spluttered indignantly, “Therefore they are not of God, and we shall have no truck with them.”

“Our Lord Jesus Christ preached the blessed virtues of mercy and forgiveness,” he thundered with holy zeal. “This is why all God-fearing Christians must drive out the vile heretics from their nests – you can start with the teachers, all of them black-hearted trots to the core – and put both them and their sinful human rights to the torch. Now that’s what I call a school assembly truly worthy of our Lord and Saviour.”