Category: Austerity

NO SHIT SHERLOCK: The sewage crisis is to be tackled in the forthcoming budget. With no obvious way of diverting available funds into private pockets, the only available option is a “turd tax”. 

Chancellor Rishi Sunak will announce this latest measure to monetise basic human functions. It’s a simple way to allow well connected “effluent extraction experts”, or piss-takers, to get rich quick. 

The polluter pays. This is going to the source of the problem, the individual waste producer, claims the Treasury. Basically the more you poo, the more you pay. 

“It’s only like having a metered water supply,” claimed Treasury drone Penny Spender. “Anyone wishing to open their bowels must be prepared to pay for their discharge to be dealt with.” 

Spender revealed that this would work on the same principle as the Oyster card. Every time you pay a visit to the smallest room in future, you will have to tap in and tap out. 

“We call this Wipe & Swipe,” said Spender. “The longer you sit, the more you pay. It’s only fair. This will also cut down on people paying repeated trips to the lavatory during working hours. Employers will no longer be obliged to subsidise their employees’ bowel habits.” 

What do you say to people already struggling to survive on minimum wage, with UC cuts and NI rises? 

“Everyone must be treated the same,” said Spender. “In fact, poor people should pay more, because their waste is of lower quality than other people’s. There will be plenty of incentives for people to go when the system is less busy. Nappy Hour will be 1am until 2am, for example. People can earn Potty Points towards Free Flush Fridays. You will be able to buy an inch of sewer, and visit it whenever you like!”

And will the revenue be spent on improving water treatment? Or is it just another steaming pile of bullshit? 

ONE MAN AND HIS BURGER VAN: This festive season will see an unexpected Brexit bonus. The traditional German Markets, which sell such unpatriotic delicacies as glühwein and bratwurst, will instead be superceded by Great British Markets. 

This year will see the rebirth of the Great British Christmas. All European influences will be excised and replaced with the naturally superior British traditions. 

So instead of German Markets, with their anti-democratic bright colours and vibrant flavours, there will be British Markets in glorious monochrome. 

But what will they be selling? Burgers are out, because they originate in Hamburg. Bacon sandwiches would have been available, before all the British pigs were slaughtered and incinerated because of the lack of British slaughtermen. 

Fish and chips would be an obvious choice. Unfortunately, the Great British fishing industry has been killed off, and nasty European cod and haddock have been banned. 

But even if the only truly British food on offer is a stale, crusty cheese and onion roll derived from 1970s bar snacks, nationalistic pride alone will provide a warm glow. 

Gluhwein, mulled wine, hot chocolate and other likewise European monstrosities will, thankfully, be banished forever. Instead there will be weak tea and keg bitter, made with e-coli-enriched British water. 

Christmas trees are of course German, so don’t expect one of those. Instead, bring last year’s holly wreath, and partner it with the ivy reclaiming derelict city centre buildings. 

We must also consider whether it is right to celebrate the birth of a man born over 2,000 years ago, bearing in mind that he was a migrant born to a single mother seeking asylum in a cowshed. Instead we should commemorate a British Messiah, and celebrate Borismas or Faragemas. 

Ultimately the idle British working man shouldn’t waste a precious day just because it’s December 25th. Humbug, bah humbug! 

Who needs fun anyway, when you’ve got sovereignty? 

BULLY FOR YOU: The task of sweet talkin’ EU lorry drivers into sortin’ the UK’s problems out has fallen to Priti Patel. The offensively charmless Ms Patel will attack the problem with her usual grace and tact. 

Patel will first of all deny that she ever gloried in the title of Send Them All Back Home Secretary. She is then expected to draw up a stringent list of terms and conditions, before promising Christmas on Ascension Island. 

Home Office insider Kat O’Ninetails was able to fill in a bit of the detail. 

“Even though we need these foreigners to deal with their mess, we still hold the whip hand,” said O’Ninetails threateningly. “They should feel obliged to come back. After all, they disappeared just when we needed them, it’s the height of irresponsibility!”

I see that 27 drivers have signed up so far. That’s not very encouraging. 

“This is why we are goin’ on a recruitment drive!” snarled O’Ninetails. “The Glory of England should be sufficient motivation in itself, but obviously we will need to supply greater incentives. We will soon whip them into shape!” 

So the charm offensive begins. How are you goin’ to charm them? 

“Oh, we can be charmin’, believe me,” growled O’Ninetails, putting on a knuckleduster. “Firstly, and most importantly, do the filthy foreign traitors want to see English children starve? That’s the message we are puttin’ out across Europe right now. 

“Secondly, as we said, we are offering a free holiday on Ascension Island for all the garlic munchers who come back and beg for mercy. 

“Finally, if these measures don’t work, then it’s no more Mr Nice Guy, and we simply press gang them. The Army is on standby.” 

The hostile environment won’t be a barrier? Or border controls? 

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s not supposed to work, it’s only to make us look tough!” 

Nutshell. 

THE ANSWER, MY FRIEND, IS BLOWING IN THE WIND: A solution has been found to the energy crisis. Clever boffins have found a powerful and infinitely renewable source of hot air. 

The answer is to install a wind turbine in the House of Commons. The infinite amount of wind produced by the 600 odd windbags is estimated to be sufficient to power the entire UK. 

Those reliant upon gas have not been forgotten. A large biomass converter has also been installed. This will generate enormous quantities of natural gas, using the endless supply of bullshit. 

“I’ve done the sums, it will definitely work,” confirmed energy analyst Jenna Rater. “In fact, just a single speech by Boris Johnson is likely to be enough to power the whole of London for a month!” 

In fact, the figures suggest that the UK will produce a surplus of power, which could then be sold to the continent. 

“That’s a good idea in principle,” agreed Rater. “Unfortunately, when we left the EU, some patriotic joker booby trapped the cross-Channel electricity cable, causing it to blow up when anyone dared to use it.” 

What will we do with the surplus power, then? 

“Beam it direct to Australia, according to the Ministry of Making Up Simplistic Solutions On The Spot,” said Rater. “Of course, this is deeply impractical and relies upon technology that doesn’t exist. But bless them for trying!” 

One advantage must be that, with all this unlimited supply, prices will come down. 

“Are you joking?” exclaimed Rater. “Far from it! Indeed, all households will be obliged to run all their appliances all the time just to stop the system blowing up. But it’s Great British World Beating Levelling Up power, so we just have to suck it up.” 

Power to the people! And we will all pay through the nose for it. 

MONEY IS FUNNY : The biggest news in Brexitannia so far this week is that the Chancellor of the Exchequer Rishi “Dishy” Sunak has a puppy!

The dog who may or may not spend quality time with the UK’s architect of ‘Eat Out To Help Out’, the delay to last year’s winter lockdown and something fishy about David Cameron and lobbying. But the dog won’t mind, even if someone is hired to look after him the majority of his life he’ll get to see Sunak for bi-annual photo shoots.

“The dog is just amazing,” an aide to the Chancellor told LCD Views. “He is toilet trained! Which is more than you can say for most of the cabinet. Although they can nod and heel on command.”

The arrival of the dog also has benefits for everyone in the UK.

“No one is going to care about the unwinding of pandemic financial support in the age of Brexit now they know that Rishi has a dog,” the aide continued. “My entire family has just come down with the killer plague, which walked in our doors from school, but who cares? Rishi has a puppy! I’ll think of that when I’m monitoring my blood oxygen levels later and smile.”

And the benefits of Sunak getting a dog don’t stop there.

“The stubborn EU have got a finger in the eye! Rishi couldn’t have purchased a pedigree pup if we hadn’t got Brexit done.”

The puppy also deals with the niggling news today that the UK government have failed to secure a deal on access for the UK’s financial sector to the biggest trading bloc on Earth.

“Who cares if the UK’s financial sector withers down to firms solely considered with efficient tax arrangements, and the tax take is lower, and austerity needs to return. Rishi has a dog!”

FEED THE WORLD: Let them know it’s definitely not Christmas time. Crime Minister Boris Johnson has defended the decision to vote against extending the free school meals system over the school holidays. Yes, giving them meal vouchers may be one way to feed them, but there are better ways to tackle the problem.

Johnson announced a whole raft of excuses to explain why the simple expedient of subsidising children’s meals, in the same way that the House of Commons subsidises MPs’ meals, is a bad idea.

“There is no need to go down the socialistic route.” waffled Johnson tetchily, tucking into his pheasant and caviar pie, while downing the dregs of a £750 bottle of red wine. “The state of it, I mean, the state of Florida, I mean the state does not own poor children, I must state that, we hived them off years ago, wiff waff.”

Michael Gove tottered by, looking a little worse for wear. “This is for later, know what I mean,” he said, passing Johnson a small packet, and tapping his nose in a meaningful way.

“Ah yes, of course,” spluttered Johnson. “Food is addictive, we can’t encourage children to get hooked on apples and sandwiches now, can we? Cheers, Mikey, it’s about time for my pick-me-up!”

“Oh, you’re talking about this food voucher nonsense?” Gove chipped in. “What are food banks and charities for, may I ask? These valuable institutions exist for a reason, and far be it for us to seek to undermine them!”

“And the little tykes who clean out my chimneys won’t be able to get up there to do their job,” agreed Johnson, taking another mighty slice of the pie. “They must be fit and lean, and their families need the extra income!”

It would be deeply unjust to suggest that, if the government fed children directly, there is no way that Serco could make an obscene profit from the affair.

LET THEM EAT HUMBUG: Ebenezer Scrooge, the infamous fictional miser, is the new Minister for Feeding Poor Children. Free school meals will not be extended to cover the Christmas holidays. The depths this Dickensian government is willing to plumb just get deeper and deeper.

It would have been a popular move to provide meals for the poorest children in society. It would have been cheaper than a bogus PPE contract, or even protecting the Manchester economy. But no. Presumably because it’s socialism.

The excuses given were as creative as the decision was mean. Feeding the poor is nationalisation, for example. Work that one out. Also, the last Labour government didn’t do it. Which can only mean that the tail of Tony Blair is wagging Boris Johnson’s dog.

It’s Dilyn we feel sorry for, as well as the starving children.

We all know how this one will play out. Scrooge will be visited by the ghost of Bob Marley, whose music he will detest. Then an unholy trinity of time travelling spirits, possibly in a blue box, who will show him the error of his ways. The conclusion will be awarding Marcus Rashford MBE (Make Britain Eat) with another gong.

With Boris Johnson as his boss, though, the contract for delivering world beating Christmas dinners will be awarded to Serco. The £12bn contract will be fulfilled, with the first Christmas dinners to be delivered, promptly, in April.

The dinners will be oven ready, of course. They will consist of a few over-boiled sprouts, a small roast potato, and a sliver of chlorinated turkey. Each will include a rather uplifting homily by Jacob Rees-Mogg.

Rashford will be promoted to Ambassador from the People’s Republic of Manchester to Whatever’s Left of the UK. Scrooge will repent at leisure, comforted by a massive payoff.

And the children? Let them eat Sovereignty.

To feed, or not to feed: that is the question. Whether ’tis nobler in the main to suffer the slings and arrows of outraged families – or, by opposing, end them.

“There is never enough money to do everything that we want to do,” explained Past His Prime Minister, Boris Johnson. “I don’t even feed my own children, why should I feed anyone else’s? It’s just spaffing money up the wall.”

You can see his point. The food voucher scheme costs about £20m a week. This is a huge slice of the £350m a week that the NHS isn’t actually getting. To put it into context, the money saved from cancelling the voucher scheme over the summer would pay for the much needed new royal yacht.

Feeding his children is a logistical challenge for Johnson in any case. There are complicated alimony agreements to negotiate. There is the problem of discerning whether a given child is one of his. There are children that definitely exist, but whom he doesn’t acknowledge. Then there is Wilfred, whom he acknowledges, but who probably doesn’t exist. It’s a tricky one.

Added to this confusion is the insistence from rational, empathetic people that the scheme should continue. Foremost of these is footballer Marcus Rashford. He made an intelligent, passionate case which Johnson naturally dismissed.

“He’s a soccer player and a picaninny, isn’t he?” Johnson waffled to anybody who cared to listen. “Where does he play? What? He’s a striker and a left winger? Sounds like those ghastly miner chappies that Margaret – dear Margaret – had so much trouble with. If that sort of person is in favour, then there is no way I can support it. Time for my nap! Wiff waff wiff waff!”

Back to the fridge, then. At least this way our children will become thin enough to fit up the chimneys this winter.

Die another day: Britain’s favourite cheap as chips Brexit peddling pub chain has refused to close its doors. Instead, anyone who finds themselves inside a Wetherspoons this week will not be allowed out until the 14 day quarantine period has elapsed.

Lovers of budget bitter and generic lager will be in clover. Elbows will be exercised and spleens vented until a fortnight has elapsed, or punters succumb to food and/or alcohol poisoning, whichever happens first.

It’s the lock-in to beat all lock-ins. Customers unwilling to change their lifestyles one iota to help out their fellow human being will be isolated, with only soggy chips and Martin’s Old Ditchwater for sustenance. If they aren’t gammon faced numpties with the IQ of a baked potato now, they certainly will be by the time they emerge.

This is all because the unrepentant Mr Wetherspoons himself, Tim Martin, is refusing to accept government advice. Pay minimum wage? Have soap in the toilets? Serve good quality food and drink? Close down to prevent coronavirus spreading? Nah. The shock haired, tiny faced, self appointed expert in everything knows better.

In fact he is so confident in himself that he is demanding a government post. But which one? For imposing a 14 day lock-in on vulnerable members of society, he should be the Health Secretary, replacing whichever half-arsed placeholder is currently tasked with selling off the NHS.

“I don’t see why I should have to join in with this closure business,” grumbled Martin to LCD Views’ Fly On The Wall correspondent (a real fly with a miniature recording device strapped to his back). “My profits come from the free movement of people – oh shit, what am I saying?! People should be free to move from stool to stool, like a fly, see what I did there? And to the bar for another dirt cheap pint. But that’s it. This is why I have imposed a lock-in. Why am I talking to an insect? Buzz off!”

Next week: Wetherspoons changes core business to mortuary services.

Those magnificent men in their flying machines! The aeronautical innovators wouldn’t ever have got off the ground if they had been weighed down by onerous health and safety regulations, so why do we need them now?

That is the question being posed by Brexit idiot of the day, Grant Shapps. The same old trick of comparing two utterly different situations linked by a common thread is alive and kicking.

It’s the free market ideology turned up to eleven. Yeah, freedom, yeah, deregulation, but without a common rulebook you are going to quite literally run into trouble.

Imagine. The British aerospace industry makes its own rules. These rules will differ from everyone else’s. Otherwise, what’s the point?

But to fly in another jurisdiction’s airspace, their rules must be followed. So, to fly over Europe, the new rules must be at least as stringent as EASA. Logically, that’s an increase in regulation.

That won’t happen either. Brexiters say they hate red tape. So standards will be lowered. So British standard aeroplanes won’t be allowed out of British airspace. That’s fine. Other countries are too full of foreign people anyway. And if the wings fall off the plane on your internal flight? Tough. That’s the risk you take if you only want to pay a Brexit 50p for your seat.

Not that any of this has occurred to Shapps. The total lack of accountability means that no policy is ever scrutinised, and no pronouncement ever looked at critically. So you can say what you like, whether it makes sense or not, and blame someone else when it all goes tits up.

None off this bothered the Wright Brothers, whose homemade aircraft lacked seat belts, indicators and a handbrake. It would have failed an MoT, but it did actually fly. That’s good enough for Shapps, and it should be good enough for you too.

Progress, eh? It’s like experts. We’ve had enough!