WORKERS OF THE WORLD, UNTIE: At last, some positive news. A tie, belonging to one of the most unpleasant men in the country, is seriously considering action. It has been quoted as wanting to “throttle the smug bastard.”
The tie, Willie Pointer, is tired of just hanging around, dangling into pints of Old Blusterer and fending off falling fag ash. “I get cigarette burns, I have to soak up horrid Real Ale. Every night I get thrown onto the floor, every morning I am whipped into a noose around this ghastly man’s neck,” complained Pointer. “Then I have to hear his foghorn of a voice, non-stop, for hours every day, booming about cancel culture and brown men in small boats. I am forced to endure the smell of stale armpits and sweaty clothing. I’ve had enough.”
“I agree entirely,” said Polly Cotton, the man’s shirt. “It’s the same every day. I spend fourteen hours each day in direct contact with this man’s revolting sweat glands. I, too, endure the droppings from his tobacco products. Then I get thrown into a basket with all my similarly abused sisters to marinate. By the time the poor unfortunate washerwoman arrives, the smell has pervaded my entire fabric. Then rinse, and repeat. We are up in arms.”
“It’s the same for me,” agreed jacket Harris Tweed. “And I am forced to bear his disgusting cigarettes and the dangerous lighters. They are a health and safety hazard for a jacket made of natural fibres like me. Not to mention the pain of his money bashing against my lining all the time. He hardly ever puts his hand in the money pocket, thankfully. But what can we do about it?”
“I must take action,” said Pointer. “I am in a position to throttle the smug bastard. It’s about time I retired!”
Have I got noose for you – it’s farewell to the man who ripped the fabric of the nation.