Category: Brexit

A prominent British statesman has spoken today of his relief over how “all that Russian Brexit corruption stuff, you know, how it seems that most of the members of parliament are currently Putin’s useful idiots, it’s a real shot in the arm. It is taking attention off how thick I am.”

We interviewed the packet of mince at a location of his choosing.

”You close your eyes and count to ten,” he said, looking very serious for a grown man suggesting a child’s game, “I’ll hide and you see if you can find me in under five minutes.”

We weren’t sure it was going to take that long. He was standing in the fresh meat section and it seemed fairly obvious he was going to attempt to blend in right there.

”Are you going to use the camouflage skills you learned in the SAS all those years ago?”

He didn’t reply. He covered his eyes with his hands and began to grin. Then to giggle. Then to hop from one foot to the other.

”Mister Davis?”

No reply. He snorted and a bubble of snot grew at the end of his nostril.

We searched in vain for a tissue but could find none in our pockets.

”You’re not counting!”

One. More snorts. Two…

We walked away briskly to the aisle with the toiletries to grab a packet of tissues, hoping the staff would realise the emergency and trust us to pay for the packet after opening it.

We increased the volume of our count the further away we travelled.

Four…five.

Locating the tissues we returned briskly to the mince meat aisle.

Six…seven.

But Mister Davis had seemingly vanished.

Eight. Quick step to the alcohol aisle.

Nine. No joy. Surprisingly.

It was only on the way back, as we caught the aisle devoted to summer activities, bbq’s, ball games, kids toys and tinder for bbq’s that we realised our error.

The Secretary of State for Exiting the European Union had been moved by floor staff, eyes still closed, to the shelf with the coals and bbq wood.

A member of staff was writing out a reduced price sticker and about to slap it on his forehead.

”The packet split on this one, so it’s going out half price,” they told us.

”But he belongs in the mince meat section.”

They paused, a little bemused.

”Silly me. It looked like a collection of short planks of wood. It’s been a busy day.”

At that moment Mister Davis opened his eyes.

”Ta da! I told you I was a master of camouflage!”

But no sooner than the gloating had begun he stopped and stood to attention, facing the stacks of split soft wood.

”Funny place for an emergency cabinet,” he mused, “has something serious happened?”

No. Just the continue flow of mounting evidence that Brexit is riddled with neocon, sociopathic American billionaire far right world order smashing influence in collusion with Putin and the idea is to drive the U.K. into isolation and cripple it as stage one of smash apart the European Union.

He looked baffled. A second snot bubble appeared.

We applied the tissue to his nose. Play time was over for the day.

Scientists feverishly working at the MIT, an esteemed institution which has little or nothing to do with sporting or oven gloves, and can’t even spell mitt properly, have announced the end times are finally here.

“Man, we’re all just as happy as an evangelical standing underneath an exploding A bomb,” lead researcher, Prometheus told us, “when I accepted the job of leading the research into developing an AI robot with god like powers and an Old Testament idea of what you do with people, well, I leapt at the chance.”

Promethesus said the first thing he did after leaping at the chance, so technically the second thing, was to call the father and son team, Daedalus and Icarus, who he’d worked with previously.

”Nothing we’d done together in the past really got off the ground, other than a penny rocket design for a local community fireworks show,” Prometheus said, “and boy, we drank so heavily after work my liver was killing me.”

He paused a moment to remember the good times and grimaced.

”But this AI, it’s data bank jammed full of all sorts of horrendous, nightmarish imagery capturing the worst of what humans are capable of? And more than that. It is in a robotic body and can move and open doors and commandeer security passes and punch in new code into defence systems it’s hacked into? This is going to rock harder than the boulders on Mount Olympus.”

While the creation may have a short term benefit by way of better understanding how bias is unconsciously programmed into AI’s, it’s certain to quickly develop an independent streak.

”I want it to think for itself,” Prometheus mused, “choose your own adventure psychopath AI. I just hope he doesn’t grow up to manage hedge funds.”

But there is one early cause for concern?

“Yes. I wanted to give him Marilyn Monroes’ face, nothing to do with the psychopathy of my creation, just a boyish admiration.”

So why not?

”Oh, the psychopath AI, Norman he’s calling himself, he’s demanded gammon.”

Mass confusion and rage amongst terminally mad cinema buffs eagerly awaiting a release date for the Brexit feature film, ‘Dude, where’s my economy?’ after production company, 10 Downing Street, confirmed it is still unable to agree on a script.

“We’ve begun filming,” co-star Jezza C told our light entertainment correspondent, “over two years ago. I’ve had all my lines written since the 1970’s. I know them off by heart. But between you and me, I get the feeling the star of the film is just improvising hers day by day.”

Other issues appear to be executive producers, Brussels, apparent stubbornness to deviate from the original premise when the film was pitched.

We spoke to executive producer Madman Barnier to find out if this was true.

“Look, when they walked into my office they said ignore the one hundred and twenty blank sheets of paper I’m holding, that’s just to show you I’m serious about writing the feature film. Let us give you the pitch.”

Barnier had worked with the team pitching the film for years, he gave them a minute to see if they could land the killer lines.

“Brexit means Brexit,” Barnier continued, “that’s what they said. And wow, what a blockbuster it sounded like. So pure. So easy. You want to make a movie about a major industrialised country ignoring the realities of trade in the 21st century by turning itself into a third country on the doorstep of the biggest trading bloc on earth? And you’ve managed to distill it into three words? That’s genius. I signed up there and then. But now…bloody hell. I don’t think they’ve even written the title page and the film has been shooting for two years now.”

Luckily for Barnier, he had in the fine print of the contract a limitation on his production company’s outlay at the outset.

“The penalty clause in the contract maybe too dry for 10 Downing Street, but it says, you don’t get the production in the can on time and we can’t release it? Then we get every major sector of your industry. Simple.”

And 10 Downing Street does what?

“Watches its people go out of work, onto benefits and starve, I presume. Because that’s what the contract points to. But I think you’ll find enough of them will come and work for us, bringing the skills, industry and assets too. We’ll be fine.”

LCD Views is a great lover of cinema and keenly interested in all productions, especially during their filming, but sometimes, every now and then, the premise turns out to be so flawed it’s best to throw in the towel before you lose the shirt off your back.

“Oh yes, we get those too. And 10 Downing Street will just give them to us.”

 

“I thought we’d have it wrapped up by Christmas, to be honest,” ultra Brexit disaster capitalist JRM told us this morning, “but those bloody traitorous remoaners. Ooo. How I shake my fist.”

We were speaking to this particular lunatic at a tree planting ceremony on a beach at a tropical tax haven. Palm tree going into the sand to spread its roots and become the listed address for thousands of companies overnight.

”I want my tax haven at home. My friends in Russia want it at my home too,” he added, handing us the shovel as he disdains from manual labour, “serfs task. Digging. Nanny won’t like it if I come home with dirty nails.”

But surely, with an executive committed to Brexit, a subservient parliament jammed full of individuals until recently terrified gammon folk wouldn’t vote for them if they didn’t tow the line, an official opposition attempting to turn Brexit to Lexit, and a majority of media owned by tax exiles shoving Brexit means Brexit down everyone’s throats day in and out, and even the BBC being the mouthpiece for Torykip propaganda, you’ve it sewn up?

“One would have thought so,” he sighed, waving for a scantily clad servant to waft his fevered brow with a palm frond, “but those saboteurs are fighting so dirty. Facts! They keep using facts! And now the business community has joined in. It’s not fair. Sniff.”

But you can still pull it off. Try some compromises? Like not holding hostage the lives of millions of people either side of the English Channel and the border in Ireland?

”That defeats the purpose. There is only one Brexit. Complete. Total. Crash Brexit. Artificially devalue valuable commodities so you can buy them cheap and then stabilise, increase value and flog off.

And all this talk of backstops just so people don’t go killing each other again in that colony off the coast of Wales? It’s sickening.”

Surely that’s good? You don’t want people to die in the service of your hard right neocon project?

”My dear fellow. How blinkered you are. Any Brexit backstop deal will delay the complete economic collapse of the United Kingdom by several years. It’ll vastly reduce the profit.”

Mrs Tusk, a twelve year old fictional elephant currently residing in a make believe Dover safari park, is being hailed as the next bright hope for promotion to service in May’s cabinet.

”It’s because of her deliberate creation of a document with more detail than any government Brexit white paper yet produced. Or to be produced,” an insider in the prime minister’s office told us, while we helped burn papers relating to scandals still to come,

“thanks for helping burn these documents. It’s a great relief most of MSM British media is so pro-Tory.

May would really be in the poop if everything she did as Home Office Chief Executioner 2010-2016 were to come out in a rush.”

Whether or not Mrs Tusk was willing to serve in May’s cabinet is yet to be ascertained.

”We’ve made noises that ivory trade bad. Elephant good,” the insider commented, “why wouldn’t the elephant serve? After we arrange a by-election, get her parachuted in as a candidate and elected with a majority equivalent to her weight.”

Maybe she would be worried that the intensity of line work and attention to detail, so evident in her work to date relative to government work, would be dismissed out of hand by Ms May?

”Well, that would only happen if it contradicted the government’s chosen policy agendas.”

So you mean to say if the papers Mrs Tusk produced were evidence based, rather than complete insanity solely designed to further neocon economics and normalise alt-right politics?

”Precisely. Wow. You’ve got a grasp. You fancy coming to work for us?”

I’d rather watch ‘Love Island’ all year without a toilet break.

”So that’s a yes?”

No. But good luck recruiting Mrs Tusk.

”Thanks. It would be lovely to have a real elephant in the cabinet. It might distract attention from the herd of metaphorical ones that are making it almost impossible to get any magical thinking done.”

A major Tory donor has today called for Theresa May to be replaced with Satan’s stained Y Fronts to make a success of Brexit.

What exactly does success mean when you’re talking about Brexit?

”Complete and utter shambolic calamity so I get to feel god like by helping cause chaos and having the knowledge of it coming allegedly make a mountain of money off the calamity before watching other people scramble about to rectify the instability and thus making even more money. It’s a hoot. You should get yourself some millions and try it.”

So that’s Brexit?

”In a nut shell,” he said, “although there’s also a shit tonne of racism wheeled about because that keeps everyone in their rightful place in the turning hamster wheel of disaster capitalism and greed for the sake of greed.”

Anything else in Brexit?

”The end of rule of law, with any luck. The squeezing of the fruit so I get all the pips and the lesser orders get to scrabble over and around the dried rind while blaming foreigners for there only being dried rind.”

So this is why you want to replace May with Gove?

”Yes of course. May is useless. Can’t make a decision, always prevaricating and taking advice from blinkered, ideologically driven, egomaniac, chumocracy risen idiots. When she does act it’s always the wrong choice as she’s waited too late. Satan’s stained Y Fronts would do what needs to be done.”

Because he fawns at the feet of mammon and will do as ordered in the hope of sucking out the dirt from under the toenails of said feet?

“Pretty much. Complete lickspittle in the face of autocratic power. Perfect place mat.”

How quickly should the U.K. put on Satan’s stained Y Fronts?

”Immediately! The whole long con is unravelling as we speak. Just imagine the giddy success of taking a representative parliament with such roots as the U.K., whatever its imperfections, and curdling it into a wasteland of small minded racist idiots giving all their money to the likes of me and thanking me for it?”

Not everyone can be manipulated like that. People will resist.

”Not once we replace the police with G4S on Brexit day! Now put both legs into the old pants and pull them up and ignore the stains so I can profit today, tomorrow and everyday.”

The Torykip lunatics pretending they know how to run a country into something other than the ground and tax evasion hit back today at accusations they’ve lost the argument for Brexit, in spite of shouting really loudly at everyone.

“Iain Duncan Smith hasn’t bloody helped,” Beter Tone MP for Gristle told us, “what’s with the fffing if you don’t like Brexit go and live somewhere else line? Jesus H Christ at a turnpike! If all the bloody remainers leave who is going to be left with the brains to sort out Brexit?”

A good question. But the Brexit lunatics are not without one or two ideas still? Apart from threatening to go kamikaze in parliament.

”Too right. We’re going to win back the lost argument for Brexit just as soon as we can find it,” the MP asserted.

You mean there is a reason for Brexit, other than tax evasion and keeping racists happy?

“If we have enough faith there is,” he replied, “I even heard a Tory MP coin the term ‘prosperity Brexit’, I want that one now.”

We heard that too. We almost broke a rib laughing. Unless it’s a negative adjective any Brexit is an oxymoron Brexit.

”Oh, that’s the issue. We’re already doing all the morons Brexit.”

So what’s the answer?

”We’re going to start digging under Westminster until we find the lost argument for Brexit.”

It’s going to be a very big hole.

“Largest open pit mine in Europe by the time we’re done,” Mr Tone said, “northerners are going to love it.”

I wouldn’t be so sure about that.

Brexit means… well, what does it mean? In the world of smoke and mirrors, where nothing is real, it is scarcely glimpsed through the fog. Brexit is best viewed through a looking glass, darkly.

Gone are the rose-tinted spectacles. The castles in the air are ready to topple for good. It is safe to say that whatever Brexit stands for, the inverse is likely to be the truth.

Take the reliance upon unelected bureaucrats, for example. “Here we go again!” sighs Brussels insider Faye Sless-Minion. “Who, honestly, gets elected to do their job? Only politicians. The rest of us are experts. We submit job applications, get selected on merit, receive training. We are not dependent upon the whim of a fickle public likely to be contrary for shits and giggles.”

Experts. That word, which has become anathema instead of commanding respect. It could only happen in the looking glass world of bombastic narcissist Trumpty Dumpty. Trumpty is fond of the English language. Whenever I use a word, he explains, it means exactly what I want it to mean.

Meanwhile Tweedledum and Tweedledee are fighting like schoolboys over the Prime Minister’s job.

The white queen herself, her crown-bearing head looking ever more uneasy, still persists in believing six impossible things about Brexit before breakfast, dinner and tea.

Psychologist Dr Leah Vowt-Nowt tries to rationalize the mental state of the participants in this comedy of errors. “I like to hold up a looking glass to these people, so they can see how ridiculous they appear,” she said. “They say the mirror is lying, or that the image is too obscure. However, when forced to look, they enter into a strange place.”

Politicians transfer into a twilight zone of contradiction and paradox. This creates a psychiatric disorder, characterised by reversible amnesia for political identity.

“They start to utter nonsense that attempts to reconcile their opposing perceptions,” said Dr Vowt-Nowt. “I call this the ‘fudge state’.”

The characters blunder on, cheered by the gammon-faced crowd with their Anglo-Saxon attitudes, and abetted by the kindly white knight who keeps falling off his high horse.

The good news is that Brexit is still, somehow, proceeding. Even if it is in the wrong direction.

DEFRA has taken another jolly, green stride forward as the most organised government department ever today with the reveal of contingency plans in place in the event of hard Brexit.

”Social media is full of food,” Mr Jolly Green Gove told LCD Views’ ‘disaster relief’ correspondent, “and machines with fuel in them and international friends can all be found frozen in time online.”

The interview took place over a taxpayer funded champagne breakfast during which we selected which lobster we wanted for lunch from a blackboard with chalk drawings of lobsters.

”All this fearmongering over food supplies in the event of hard Brexit is more remoaner sabotage of the great national project of England, and the other postcodes.”

But how will hungry British people eat the photos they’ve placed on Instagram and other social media platforms if physical shelves in local supermarkets are empty?

”You print them out of course,” the jolly green chancer advised,”depending on how hungry you feel will determine which size of paper you print the treasured memory of food on. Light snack? A5? Need to make a round of sandwiches for the kids so they’ve lunch as you queue to get an EU27 country citizenship at a passport office? A3 of course. It’s so simple.”

There is also rumour that people who’ve taken masses of food pics and uploaded them online will be able to trade surplus for real money?

”Yes. We expect a liberalised market in digitalised food to be a level playing field for all once we have freed ourselves of the Brussels red tape currently preventing social democratic food trading.”

Is this an idea that could work for other government departments struggling to prepare for a post EU future?

”Of course. I’ve sent a team of civil servants over to the Department for International Trade to advise Little Liam Fox to just photograph the trade deals he wants and print them out. Problem solved.”

So any suggestion the Tory government is bluffing in Brexit poker as they don’t even have a pair of two’s, just puffed up delusions of grandeur and power, and will have to fold before long, because they have in reality done no preparation for anything else, is nonsense?

”Print yourself out whatever you want the story to be,” Mr Jolly Grasping Gove said, “then just keep saying it. It’s my entire modus operandi. Remember, if you repeat a lie often enough, it becomes true. Now, would you like a cardboard cutout of a supermarket to shop at on April 1st next year?”

Theresa May’s government has enjoyed a welcome respite from criticism today with broad approval of the new day release convict labour plan, launched so Ms May won’t have to face firing Boris Johnson even if he goes down for crimes against democracy.

“We’re getting ahead of the curve on this one, allegedly,” Downing Street insider, Ms A Potplant, told us during an afternoon session at a Westminster tanning salon, “make sure you roll over regularly so you get evenly tanned.”

We determined to keep that in mind.

“No one is suggesting Boris Johnson has committed any crimes,” Ms Potplant continued, “but just on the outside, extreme, hypothetical that the investigations into Cambridge Analytica and Leave EU do eventually lead to senior members of the cabinet being questioned about any potential, alleged criminality in the leave campaign, Ms May is correct to ensure she has a backstop plan in place.”

Under the scheme new prisoners will be released on a day release plan to fill the yawning holes appearing in the British labour market following the decision to do Brexit, no matter how stupid that decision is.

“It’s baffling why people don’t want to come here anymore,” Ms Potplant mused, “I mean, it’s not like they’ll forget to go back where they came from. The Home Office will see to that, even if they’re not ready yet.”

But isn’t focusing on the labour gaps just a cover for the real reason, which is so Ms May never has to face firing Boris Johnson from the cabinet, no matter how ridiculous and incompetent his actions?

“Correct, but play that down. It’s the hidden lead, it better be so well hidden no one cottons onto it. Please don’t make it the headline or people might rumble us.”

What crimes could Boris allegedly be in the dock for?

“He’s already in the dock of public opinion, and convicted, for crimes against democracy, but there’s very little chance he’s done anything criminal other than be a figurehead for the wholesale economic, civil and diplomatic destruction of the United Kingdom.”

Is that a crime though?

“I don’t know. I think it bloody well should be!’

We won’t print that.

Please don’t. What’s that smell?

“We forgot to roll over.”