Category: Brexit

The latest batch of No Deal notices released by HMG yesterday demonstrate that Brexit Britannia has all bases covered, especially when it comes to the all important symbols of our liberation from being a functioning member of the global community.

“The RAF is on standby to airlift in our new potatriotic British blue passports from France if the M20 becomes a lorry park,” Dominic Raab MP (for Meat) told a packed hall of patriots, “let me correct that, when the M20 becomes a lorry park.”

The reassurance will be welcome by a population busy contingency planning for the moments after the UK regains its independence, to just before the UK ceases to exist altogether.

“It’s worth it,” A Gammon told LCD Views, “after two and a bit years, billions sacrificed, the mental wellbeing of millions placed in jeopardy, the reputation of the United Kingdom trashed internationally for the callous and offhand way we are prepared to tear up legal agreements offering security and rights to millions over decades, and all to change the colour on a passport to a colour we could have changed to without Brexit.”

But with much less sovereignty.

“Yes. It’s all worth it. It’s still the only benefit identified, but once you hold that blue book in your hand and realise you’ll never leave home again with or without it, it’ll all be worth it.”

Quite where the RAF will land with the shipments of blue passports is not yet clear, as it’s unlikely they will be able to break the law and deliver them.

“They may have to airdrop them,” A Gammon mused, “presumably just south of the Irish border. Smugglers can take care of the rest after and get them into the UK.”

Never forget, as the day to day drama gathers distracting intensity with the running down of the clock, no one has yet been able to identify a tangible benefit of Brexit except for blue passports.

Word from the ether sphere is that Labour leaders John McDonnell and Jeremy Corbyn are in for a Christmas treat this year of the traditional Dickensian kind. Just as soon as they tuck their white haired heads into sleeping caps and lay down expecting to dream of erecting giant billboards with their faces on in every town square.

“It won’t be the dreams they expect. Ghostly Nick Clegg is planning to visit McDonnell and Corbyn this year on Christmas Eve,” LCD Views has been informed, during a seance to contact the pre-2015 Liberal Democrat parliamentary bloc, “and he’s bringing a warning from the future and the past for the present.”

The seance was conducted using a ouija board constructed with the dead wood of state paid university tuition, you know, before the neoliberal con-artists starting commodifying it to slow destruction, and letters cut out from the first university fee agreements issued after they were trebled.

”This talking board does not lie,” a political psychic on our payroll affirmed, “and that’s good. Dickens is the obvious frame for the message, as the Labour leadership’s support of Tory Brexit will lead to Dickensian conditions for the many, but not the few.”

But what will the ghost of Nick Clegg tell them?

”It’s not the ghost of Nick Clegg. He’s still alive thankfully,” our psychic corrects, “it will be a ghostly Nick Clegg. A different animal altogether. This one fully realises just how seriously it let ghoul scrooge Cameron manipulate it in order to destroy the Lib Dem’s as a parliamentary force and get the U.K. back to two party FPTP Westminster politics.”

Well, what will ghostly Nick Clegg tell McDonnell and Corbyn.

”It will point to what happened to real Nick Clegg after he sold out on key promises and principles to gain power. McDonnell and Corbyn are on the same tangent.”

How so?

”Before Nick Clegg said screw scraping tuition fees I’ve a seat at the big table now, let’s treble them. Before that he was viewed as one of the last honest brokers left in our politics, having picked up and run with the work of his forerunners, most especially Charles Kennedy.”

Who?

”Are you a member of Momentum? They’ve wiped him from memory too. Charles Kennedy led his entire party in opposition to Blair’s Iraq War.”

This is starting to sound like a party political broadcast…

”For which party? If Vince hands over to Gina Miller maybe…anyway. But no. We choose our targets from the news cycle. And McDonnell and Corbyn are doing the same thing as Clegg. Trashing the perception of themselves as honest brokers, bringing in a new kind of politics, in order to put perceived party interests before the country, with continual fence sitting Brexit fudgeberg making, even though they must know people are suffering from Brexit yesterday, today and everyone will suffer tomorrow. Comrade. What is it worth to make that omlette? How many eggs do they expect the Tories to break?”

And that will be ghostly Clegg’s warning? What happens when disillusionment kicks in?

”Just ask real Nick Clegg about what happens then. Turkeys may vote for Christmas, but afterwards only a miracle will get them to vote for it again.”

Labour were on the cliff edge of taking a commanding polling lead over both their Brexit policy partners, the Conservatives, and front runner Don’t Know, today after John McDonnell promised the centre and swing voters that a Labour government will smash the ship of state into a red instead of a blue iceberg.

”It’s leadership,” A Labour-Voter told LCD Views, “to know that even a radically different government on the surface would still lead to the fulfilment of UKIP’s only policy ever is giving me the shits. I mean, makes me tingle all over and know I can’t fart for fear of soiling myself.”

The refusal to take a fundamentally different stance on Brexit to May’s government by Labour is clearly exceptionally clever. Especially as anyone paying attention knows the six tests are nonsense and Labour still wants to end FOM, take that millions of ordinary working people who’s lives have been in limbo for years as the U.K. has a breakdown and makes them pay for it.

”It means voters will have no idea who the hell to vote for, in terms of Labour and Conservatives, if they don’t want the country to continue along a clearly horrific policy path decided by an opinion poll a few years back riddled with proven criminality and false promises,” the voter went on, “we may get a government hung like a bull if we have a snap election. And that will be a lot of jizz all over the electorate from Westminster.”

It also means that constructive ambiguity continues to serve Labour well if they never want to take over the Conservatives in the polls.

”Not offering a choice and just attacking the government’s handling of a policy that seems certain to impoverish and dismantle the union of the United Kingdom ensures Corbyn and McDonnell never actually have to govern. It’s pretty much the fulfillment of all those decades as paid up backbench MPs getting nothing done legislatively. I’m impressed. They can’t start their own victim narrative too, when the Tories edge them in the coming snap GE. You know when Boris becomes a remainer. It’s those bloody remainers, not enough of them believed a red iceberg was worth hitting.”

We did ask the man in waiting himself, McDonnell for comment, but he was busy remembering the time he flung the little red book across the Commons.

So we’ll imagine his comment instead,

”We need the Tories to break the eggs for us and then no one will blame us when the entire country turns into an omelette.”

Get your fork and plate and get in line. Just wait. And keep waiting. In line. Comrades. Both main parties have the country’s best interests in mind.

“Total humiliation is just our opening negotiating position,” Theresa May is to tell a jubilant U.K. this afternoon, after her barnstorming impact on the collected leaders of the EU27 in Salzburg yesterday.

“No prime minister of the modern United Kingdom, that roared into life like a creation of Doctor Frankenstein on the 23rd June 2016, is going to forced to face reality, no matter how mean those bullies in Brussels are. No matter how many air kisses Macron lays around me.”

The tough talk will be welcomed by a nation that waits anxious that reality may at some point force its way into U.K. government Brexit strategy.

”No deal is better than a no deal,” May will add, “why it was preferable for currency traders to have a transition period of madly fluctuating Sterling, and for all our major employers to have time to relocate across the channel in good order, I am not playing to the tune of anyone but about half a dozen billionaires who have taken short pound positions for late March next year.”

And to back up her tough talk she’s going to continue as is.

”Even now the best medical minds in the NHS, working alongside Harley Street, are attempting to revive Chequers. My personal monster, cobbled together from still born ideas and old cables, will rise to face Brussels again.”

She will then hold up a photo of Chequers, before finishing,

”No deal is better than no deal and I aim to make a success of it. A humiliation that will overshadow the imperial success of Chequers for generations to come.”

Total humiliation has been our negotiating position for over two years now and let’s make a success of it! Get behind May and push! Everyone! All together! Now!

High flying Minister of State for selling U.K. assets abroad, Little Liam Fox, has shot out of the post Brexit bolt hole today with a display of what we can expect for Global Britain.

”It was nice for parliament to make itself irrelevant,” Parliament watcher, Mr What-The Fcuk, told LCD Views, “I mean, what responsible, directly elected representative body wouldn’t make itself just a giant rubber stamp and give a bunch of immoral, neocon asset strippers, masquerading as MPs, carte blanche to do what they want with important laws?”

And do what they want with important laws protecting public safety and rights they will.

”Liam is a sign post for other MPs to follow,” aide to Liam, Mr Verily Werrity told us next, “by using the powers laughably handed over in that farce of a parliament discussion over the EU Withdrawal Bill, Liam is now able to launch his own meat brand ‘Fox Steaks – for fox sakes!’, using real fox meat gathered by zero hours workers set the task of picking up roadkill off motorways.”

Previously such meat would have been classed as only consumable by crunchies, but not now.

”No, not now! Liam and friends can do what they want after Brexit. Fox knows what will be on your plate from April next year, but it will definitely be good food because Liam will change the legislation to say it is.”

But wouldn’t it be a breach of parliamentary rules and MP’s code of conduct for Liam to profit so brazenly in the future, by way of his position?

”What rules?! Ha! No need to hide good friends behind curtains anymore. We can change those rules too! Get ready to stuff your mouth with the taste of Brexit. Liam will make it so.”

The slender seventeenth century throwback has defended his faction’s action deficit disorder. There is no forthcoming Brexit plan from the European Research Group, because that was the plan all along.

“It’s quite simple,” Mogg explained. “We cut all links to the continent, and revert to Magna Carta. Article 6, section 2, subparagraph 3.5 clearly states that ‘Anie hyborn Manne which poffeffeth in excefs of twentie-fix caracutes of land fhall bofseth the living Shitte out of anie Plebbs subfifting thereupon’.”

It’s a throwback’s throwback. Mogg predicts the return of Merrie Englande.

“Mediaeval England was a jolly fine place,” he asserts. “Colour, castles and crusades. It was a time of pageantry and conquest, and English gentlemen were honoured and respected.”

Some of Mogg’s colleagues in the ERG were less sanguine.

“In fact, none of us could agree what Brexit actually implied,” grumbled Rod Formy-Ownback, MP for Gammon-on-the-Grill. “Was it deregulation? Anti-immigration? Prejudice? Pride led to us all claiming to have always known. Entrenched in contradictory positions, it all fell apart.”

“We have spent the last forty years grumbling about the EU,” observed Gordon Bennett, MP for North-West Gobshite. “Grumbling is what we do. We snipe, moan and criticise, but never in a constructive way. We are demolition agents, not creatives!”

It has been suggested in some quarters that a catastrophic Brexit might be an opportunity for well-placed individuals to profit.

“Well, yes, that is indeed my hidden agenda,” confirms Mogg. “No need to hide it any more. I have the government in my pocket. Labour is disappearing up its own arse. All I need to do is ensure that we continue to hurtle over the cliff edge. Wait for the dust to settle, and you will discover that Lord Rees-Mogg now controls the whole of the West country.”

We can’t wait. Olde Englande, olde danger. In which we serf.

Fantastic news for people worried about rising energy bills this winter with the announcement that Our Government is to give every household its own nuclear reactor.

”It’s to celebrate British independence,” Chris Grayling, MP for Turtles-on-Fenceposts, told LCD Views, “once we are free of all those petty EU health and safety regulations we can pretty much do what we like, so what not make nuclear power personal?”

The reactors, small and potentially explosive, are modelled on a crossbreed design of the world famous Chernobyl and Fukushima reactors.

”This will ensure the lights stay on regardless of what happens after March 29th 2019. Even if it just ends up as one big, green, glowing light all over the U.K.,” Grayling explained,

“each reactor will be delivered by a zero hours worker who will be paid with food, and each kit will come with instructions for build and installation. I recommend putting them in your kitchen to impress your friends. You could even have parties to build each other’s. Encourage a sense of community. Do emergency drills and so on.”

It’s believed the motivation to make every household in the country self-powering is in part due to criticism of the plans to keep the lights bright in Northern Ireland by putting generators on barges in the Irish Sea.

”It’s also to keep people busy building them so they don’t have time to riot over food,” Grayling smiled, “and as a blatant bribe to buy support for Brexit. Bribery is pretty much the only basis going forward that U.K. democracy will function on, so let’s give every voter a personal taste.”

But what to do with all the waste? And what about civil emergency contingencies in the case of mass meltdowns?

”We’re going to dump the waste on the beaches,” Grayling explained, “you’ll be able to see the U.K. outlined from space. This will make it easier for my alien overlords to find me too, when they come to take me back to my home planet of Zaaaarg-D7. As I’m really only here to master about rail transport technology. I’ll be here a while yet.”

And in the case of mass reactor meltdowns?

”They won’t be critical.”

I suspect they will be? Or they won’t function?

”Excuse me?”

Chris Grayling, thank for your time.

“Don’t thank me yet. Wait unti you’re holding you’re first shipment of high grade Brexitanium in your hands at home.”

The man was found in a tatty chain pub, ranting at anyone prepared to listen. The viciously discounted beer had clearly gone to his head.

Brexit was the man’s theme, and beer mats were his cue cards. “This Brexit mess has made me increase my prices,” he fumed. “The solution is to leave the EU without a deal, that will bring prices right down!”

LCD Views’ Swift Half correspondent had dropped into the pub on the way home, and became enmeshed in the pub bore’s web of deceit.

“You know immigration, mate,” the man continued, as the hack paused, scenting a story. “Funny thing is, we need it. Brits suffer from brewer’s droop from drinking in my pubs all night. So the birthrate is dropping. Britain needs immigration, just not that horrid EU immigration.”

The man ordered two more pints of Nigel’s Old Saggybollocks and a packet of gammon scratchings as he warmed to his theme.

“Russians,” he belched. “That’s who we need. They can spend their nice roubles in my nice pubs and I can pay them peanuts. Nobody else will eat the bloody things!”

Swig. Belch. Over-friendly arm around shoulders.

“Between you and me,” he said in a loud stage whisper, “the further east you go, the less you need to pay them. I’ll set up a fake travel agency arranging visits to Salisbury Cathedral, and they will flock to me. What do you think of that! If you don’t like it, tough. As my mate James Dyson says, suck it up!”

Coincidentally, ‘suck it up’ is only one consonant different to the government’s official Brexit policy.

It is also a coincidence that the incoherent man flogging cheap booze in a race to the bottom is a complete arsehole.

In this world of the cheap and cheerless, you can’t beat Tim Martin Wetherspoon. Although most would prefer to beat him with a large club.

Planes were grounded at all twelve London airports today as emergency measures were taken after an Unidentifiable Pieing Object, or UPO, was seen hanging in the sky above the Palace of Westminster.

”The UPO has actually been over the Palace for a couple of years now,” our Westminster correspondent, Mrs Bubble, says,

“since the day David Cameron successfully dealt with the imperial minded, tax dodging fascists in his party by promising to call the EU referendum that occurred after mass cheating in June 2016.”

But while not a new feature, when in fact it’s standard political practice for many MPs to put little pies in the sky, this time it’s different.

”This time it’s different,” Mrs Bubble adds, unnecessarily, “it’s believed the spate of recent policy documents, or scribbled on fag packets, released by Brexit backing groups has lead to a pie so bloody huge it has begun to blot out the sun.”

That Jenkins clown saying “no one would notice” a No Deal Brexit, plus Raab blaming business for the impacts of Brexit on business, and Raab releasing more nonsense he claims is preparation for a completely unnecessary calamity he’s intent on creating, and McDonnell saying he couldn’t be arsed to fight a resurgent UKIP, but that’s okay because the hard right have clearly been beaten into retreat across the U.K. political landscape by having Con and Lab adopt one of their key agendas, all this has,

”birthed a monstrous floating nonstrosity that is anything but Pukka, or Greggs for that matter. Although I have it on good authority the taste of the pie in the sky is pork barrel.”

People are warned to believe what they see, but to have a plate and fork handy, with sauce if you like, for the inevitable moment when the gravity of logic brings the pie crashing down.

”Personally I’d bring a bucket and shovel,” Mrs Bubble said, “this monster is going to keep us all fed for years once it crashes to ground.”