Category: Brexit

The woman alleged to be the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom is taking some well-earned time out. The rumour mill says that she is building a shed in her back garden.

Theresa May is following the lead of her un-esteemed predecessor, David Cameron. Cameron, lest we forget, gambled the country’s future on a referendum designed to silence Eurosceptic critics. As we know, the plan backfired magnificently. Instead of hanging around to clear up his mess, Cameron promptly resigned to build a shed.

“I call it the rag shed,” Cameron admitted cheerfully. “I retreat to it whenever the lovely Samantha is on the rag, or loses her rag. A man needs his own space to escape from the harsh realities of living with a woman.”

Cameron reveals that he can spend time in his shed with his fantasies, alternatively called ‘writing his memoirs’. Equipped with a sofa, a desk, wifi, and enough gin to last a fortnight, he no longer needs to engage with his family except when slopping out.

Our mole at Number Ten revealed that Theresa May is secretly building a shed. “She is calling it her Brexit Shed,” said the mole, Andi Livin-Ahole. “She is assembling it in an ad-hoc manner. She keeps firing her incompetent project managers and ignores all guidance on construction.”

The rickety, leaking edifice is nearing completion, Livin-Ahole says. “It must be complete by 29 March,” he reveals. “She won’t extend the deadline even if it collapses about her ears. Which it might well do any moment.”

The attraction of the shed is obvious. You can escape from unwelcome attention and have privacy. May’s supporters have pointed out that sleeping in a shed is better than sleeping under a hedge. “Or under a hedge fund manager,” adds Livin-Ahole, acidly.

Shed means shed. But the image persists of our once-proud PM sitting in the rain, amid the remains of the wrecked shed, a plastic bag over her head, repeating over and over again:

Strong and stable… Strong and stable…

One of the great luminaries of the visionary potatriotic society that is reforming Great Britain into an improvised bit of performance art intended to portray emotionally what it is like to live in cellar eating guano and screaming at strangers who occasionally pop their head down to see if you’ve had a wash (the play is best staged in a mothballed abattoir), has generously turned his fierce intellectual light onto the matter of the Titanic and its sinking.

“It was a managed no buoyancy event,” Mr Satan MP said, “it would be a mistake for people to think it was just a calamity, nothing could be further from the truth.”

The clarity Mr Satan has brought to one of the most resonant events in 21st Century history has been welcomed by people who feared that the similarities between Brexit UK and the loss of the Titanic weren’t a good thing.

“No, this simply isn’t true,” Mr Satan continues, “numerous people managed to survive by sitting in life boats until a buoyancy event rescued them. Of course, very many lifeboats weren’t found until the occupants had frozen to death, but it’s best not to mention them. At least they were continuing to experience buoyancy, which just shows that buoyancy isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Or the mass of people who drowned, look the other way out of respect. Or the fact that the whole tragedy could arguably have been avoided with a little less hubris. Hubris is a dynamic force within the spirit of man. It should be embraced.”

Text books will have to be rewritten now to correct what are potentially un-potatriotic perspectives on the Titanic catastrophe?

“The very fact you insist on calling one of the most famous events in the history of modern Britain a catastrophe shows how much work is still to be done.”

And what about a no deal Brexit? To turn for a moment to today’s big issue?

“A managed no deal will be best,” Mr Satan MP smiled, “it’s all just a matter of the words you use. Convince everyone to go along with you and you’re a success.”

A woman is celebrating today with the news she gets to  keep her well paid job of moving money out of the pockets of poor people into the pockets of rich ones.

“I’m giddy,” power crazed, person hating f-wit Ms May told us, shortly after the result of a vote over her fate was announced, “I can continue to offer strong and stable degradation of everything that makes the U.K. worthwhile, while my husband conveniently works in a field where political drama and exchange rate fluctuations coincide to produce a golden goose. This is not a conflict of interest,

“This has nothing to do with Brexit, or my role in managing the process with the same xenophobia and small minded control freakery that stamped my mark on the Home Office,

”Keeping my job is also convenient, given some think, but I couldn’t possibly comment, that I like to shred evidence of wrong doing and foreign collision and corruption in our politics. That’s nothing to do with Brexit either.”

But how did she manage to win a vote of confidence, allowing her to keep her job, when many thought she might lose it?

”Look, my colleagues are impressively thick and self interested, but they’re not so thick they want to kick me out of my post when I’m still prepared to take the fall for the massive fraud they’re running on the great British public. Oh, and I returned the whip to a sex pest and promised everyone who voted for me  a peerage.”

It’s Christmas time. There’s no need to be afraid. Bob Geldof is at it again.
It seems like every year nowadays you can’t move for a new Band Aid lineup re-recording that bloody song again. Now fair enough, the original was great and had a great singalong value, but we don’t need endless permutations of new stars re-recording it every bloody year.

So this year they’re doing something different. The song they’re recording this year uses the same music but is called “Do They Know What Brexit Means At All”, and has rewritten lyrics designed to acknowledge that another vote would be good and to remind them of the benefits of EU membership.

“It just seemed like the right time to do it,” Bob Geldof explained. “So we thought we’d give it a full on campaign song.”

The latest Band Aid lineup includes modern musicians like Paloma Faith alongside older stars, including some like Sting who featured on the original record back in 1984. Bono reprises his line “Well tonight thank God it’s them instead of you!” yet again, which gives him the unique opportunity to chart precisely how much his vocal chords have deteriorated in the last three decades.

The original coda of “feed the world – let them know it’s Christmas time again” now goes “teach the Brits – let them know that Europe loves them still.”
There is an unconfirmed rumour that Theresa May is trying to get the song banned from the radio airwaves.

Early sales figures suggest that it could become a smash hit Christmas number 1.

The illusory Brexit Dividends have been whittled away. ‘Sunlit Uplands’ has been downgraded to ‘we survived worse disasters’. Just about the only thing remaining in Brexit’s favour is the Damoclean sword that is Article 50, or A50 for short.

Numerous groups have popped up on social media sites such as Faceblock, Snapcrap and Twit, devoted solely to lovers of A50. One hardcore Brexiter member of such groups has taken his devotion to new levels, by driving between Leicester and Stoke at every opportunity.

“I love to drive this route,” claims the aforementioned Brexiter, Ron Gendofstick. “To me, nothing says ‘Brexit’ more vividly than bypassing the East Midlands. Bypassing the EM is a metaphor for the fact that Britain will be able to bypass the EU without having to negotiate the notorious Brussels one-way system.”

LCD Views took the opportunity to travel the route with Ron, in order to unravel the mysteries of Brexit.

“Well, here we are in sunny Leicester,” said Ron, shaking the raindrops off his coat as we climbed into his classic Austin Cambridge A50. “Keep your coat on, the heater’s knackered. Oh, and the roof leaks. Here we go!”

Half an hour later, we were still stuck in the city centre. Ron missed the turning. “We’ll have to go round again,” he said. “Except the ring road is more like horseshoe shaped. It’s like where we are in the negotiations, going round in circles and getting frustrated. Bugger, more red lines, I mean red lights.”

Eventually Ron found the way out. Missing Coalville (“Bloody militant miners!” grumbled Ron) for a short pull up the motorway, before turning west to bypass Derby. A long and featureless drive ended with us plunging through Stoke on an underpass, before reaching the junction with the M6. What now? we asked.

“Nothing to see here,” Ron replied. “Better turn back and enjoy it all again!”

A long and pointless drive, just to return to where you started, but tired and worse off?

“That’s the Road to Brexit!” claimed Ron happily. “I’m going to do it all over again. Bye!”

But why drive from Leicester to Stoke in the first place? Simple. The best thing to come out of Leicester is the A50.

Contagious news for lovers of changing global reputations today with the announcement that famous bacterium, Yersinia pestis, has been renamed in honour of the United Kingdom’s achievements from 2016 to present.

”It needs a gong,” Professor Caut Redutebatur told LCD Views, “the work you as a country have been doing on the global stage. I mean, just wow, it’s so irresistible, you’ve now former ministers of state wanting to threaten allies and friends with food blackmail. Priti Patel is quite something, in such a crowded field too, a proper pustule. but that’s just the bursting cherry on top. From the moment Theresa May personally decided to trigger Article 50, very likely in a non-constitutional way, just because she hates foreigners? Such a public statement by an entire country? It’s like sneezes on everyone at the dinner table all at once just after telling them you’ve TB! So, a plague upon your houses! Ha! Have an award!”

The change in name will be automatically applied globally from midday today.

”It’s going to be retrospective too, just to really rub the old tincture in. Now when kids learn about the great plagues, they’ll be reading your name instead. It’s only fitting, it’s got to catch with or without the help of flea bearing rats. Especially when you run out the possibilities of what Brexit unleashes. A plague upon everyone’s houses! Ha!”

To find out the reaction to the change to the famous diseases name we decided to talk to the four horsemen of the apocalypse. World renowned experts in this field.

”Hello?” Iain Duncan Smith answered the phone, “is it me, David Davis, Jacob Rees-mogg or an international clique of kleptomaniac fascists you’re looking for?”

You’ll do Iain, what do you think?

”A tissue, a tissue,” he replied, “thanks to Brexsinia brexit, we all fall down.”

If only there was a cure…

Nigel Farage, the allegedly charismatic face of closet gammons everywhere, has made his move. Having seduced the Conservative Party, put the wind up David Cameron and secured his reputation as a rentagobshite, resigning from UKIP is his latest desperate attempt to remain relevant.

His beloved Brexit is, at time of publication, collapsing in a tragicomical manner. UKIP has been reduced to a laughing stock, and is flirting with the entitled thug Tommy Robinson. This is a racist lurch too far even for Farage, who prefers his fascists to wear a suit.

“It’s time I returned to mainstream politics!” coughed the man himself, dragging on a Capstan Full Strength outside The Old Bull And Shit. “UKIP is no longer a suitable vehicle for my unrealistic fantasies. I only formed the party in an effort to seduce Katie Hopkins!”

Which begs the question, what does an MEP who rarely attends sessions, has quit his own party, and has his mucky fingers in more pies than Little Jack Horner, do now?

“Well, the obvious choice is to become Prime Minister!” Farage wheezes, chugging on his IPA. “Frontline means frontline. I could walk into the job tomorrow!”

That would mean an election. Or, put another way, it means allowing The People to vote again.

“Not at all!” spluttered Farage, stifling a belch. “It’s not a big deal. It will be the easiest deal in history. I need a disgruntled constituency party to deselect their sitting MP. Someone like Chris Grayling, or Nadine Dorries, or Andrew Bridgen, someone that nobody’s ever going to miss. Walk up to Number Ten, knock on the door, tell Theresa to do one. Cushty!”

Nobody is sure why Farage want to do this. He has a cushy number already, sucking on the EU’s teat while broadcasting bile to the nation on LBC Radio, and a weekly guest spot on BBC Question Time. His stock has fallen like gravy on the floor.

Brexit is at Breaking Point. Nigel Farage may be the man to break it for good.

The government is on the back foot today over details of their soon to be released post Brexit survival kits.

The kits will be available free of charge to members of the Conservative Party, but available at a modest retail price of £750,000 for everyone else.

”That’s just the average price of a burgundy passport available for purchase from one of the smaller EU27 states,” Vlad “the” Impaler, junior minister at DExEU told LCD Views, “although of course most wealthy Tory backers will already have purchased a second citizenship as a Brexit contingency and so we will give them a kit gratis to thank them for supporting Theresa May’s deal.”

But while the RRP of surviving in a post Brexit U.K. may not ultimately be too controversial, the kits have been positively and negatively slammed for not including recipes for common household pets.

”I expect any sensible person already employs a cook who knows all the ways to skin a cat,” Vlad shrugged, “and guinea pigs and dogs and even snakes, for that matter. It’s really just a manufactured complaint. And anyone who hasn’t applied themselves to be born with a silver spoon will presumably just eat a cat raw? Won’t they?”

So that’s that criticism rebuffed too. But what about the complaint that a diving manual, a lifeboat, a life jacket and a whistle are also missing?

We asked Labour what they made of this latest Tory furore?

”A Labour government would not have “the” Vlad the Impaler as a junior minister at a jobs first Brexit focused DExEU,” Keir Starmer slapped down, “But “a” Vlad “an” Impaler.”

And that will make all the difference to your chances of survival post Brexit.

The brains behind Theresa May’s misselling strategy to get the great British public to swallow, without sugar, the toxic discharge of her Brexit WA and PD have hit today upon a sure fire way to con everyone into buying it.

“Who better to accompany Ms May on her around the U.K. sales trip than a infamous British automotive dealer of questionable quality second hand cars?” Mr Con Merchant, guiding strategist at Downing Street, told us, “it was actually Gove’s idea. Every bit of deceptive genius always is.”

How Ms May, famous for being strongest when working independently, will feel about being a double act is not yet clear.

”We will have Arthur Daley convince her himself and he’ll probably sell her one of Prescott’s old Jags while he’s at it,” Mr Merchant said, “and if things get sticky Terry can pop round and have a word in her ear, to the wise, like.”

Mr Daley himself has been unavailable for comment since the announcement, but is currently believed to be hiding in the gents of a boozer out of fear that Ms May is a disgruntled customer.

”We will get word to him that ‘er indoors has a Brexit bus going begging to be sold with a massive profit if it’s pulled off. That there are 17.4M suckers lined up to pay well over the odds for something that was clearly never going to work, and which anyone could find out for themselves if they only had access to Google. The world will be his oyster. He’ll be up for it.”

Brexit, a nice little earner, if you’re a currency trader, like say, half the government.