Category: Brexit

The EU was instantly on the back foot after Donald Tusk’s desperate release of their unrealistic and bullying trade negotiation guidelines today as a video emerged of innocent BMW’s being drowned in a prosecco lake.

LCD Views received the video tape from a secret sauce that maybe tomato, but is more likely sweet and sour.

We will be uploading the damning video on all our platforms, just as soon as we have finished bidding for a third hand Betamax on EBay, and sourced a power cable for it.

”I can describe the heart rending scenes, if you’re sitting down?” Green Searchlight offered,

“make sure you have a glass of water or a gallon of vodka handy though. It’s one of the most edifying things I’ve ever seen. It broke our old state of the art Betamax player. I only managed to get the tape out before it burst into flames. So hot is the evidence that the EU is bluffing. That everything they’ve said is just an opening gambit. That a jobs first Brexit is the least we can expect.”

We’re ready.

”Okay. Most of it is filmed in infrared so it’s actually green,” Green begins, “you can see them leading a line of freshly painted BMW’s, just off the production line, down towards this shimmering lake.

It’s moonlight.

By the size of the moon I reckon this act to hide surplus luxury cars, that were once destined for the UK market, happened under the recent super moon.”

Green paused for a while, just to feel smug about Saint George, before continuing.

”One by one the BMW’s are pushed, pulled and dragged into the prosecco. It’s clearly a desperate attempt by the unelected, tyrannical, deluded plutoautomotocrats that run the megasuperstate EU, to hide the evidence of just how much the EU needs the UK.

If this video gets out on social media the EU is finished in the Brexit negotiations.

They will be forced to bend over and give us everything we demand.

Bespoke cherrycake and pie in sky mix on the table, no rules to follow, no money to pay. They’re over.

The farce of the last two years, during which they have repeatedly said the same stock thing each time one of our diversity loving, open handed, pluralistic public servants made a reasonable offer to help them out after we leave will be laid bare for all to see.”

Green stopped. He could smell the British victory that is now so near to hand.

LCD Views would like to thank the noble British heroes who got this damning EVIDENCE that the Brexiters are right into our hands.

Just wait until you see it.

The EU’s farcical red lines are dust.

England will surely win the battle of Britain now.

We will have our cakes and we will keep them, at least until they go mouldy and we realise we should have eaten them.

Who are you going to sell your cars to now EU? Who is going to drink that prosecco? Who is going to cut up the brie? If you’re lucky, in time, we’ll give you a jar of our jam.

There is to be an exciting response for the UK’s carmakers persistently bugging government for clarity on trading conditions post Brexit, with the announcement a front bench minister is being selected to call them traitors.

”This builds on existing Brexit policy,” A Turd 3rd, MP for Why-on-wie, junior minister at DExEU, told LCD Views when he dropped by the office to smash up some of our treasonous computers.

”We feel that by calling anyone quibbling over the bold and exciting future which Global Britain has embarked on traitors, we can better persuade others not to point out the glaring flaws and contradictions in our governance.”

It’s thought the robust response, when delivered with a coordinated editorial attack in The Express, The Daily Mail, The Sun and the now batshit crazy Telegraph, will do more than convince the diverse and international owners of the U.K. automotive manufacturing sector to invest billions into Global Britain.

”What’s the point of quibbling over conditions when you know the conditions will be cake?” Turd 3rd asked, “and the low hanging cherry fruit is ripe all the time in Global Britain. Pour your money in. We really do need you to.”

Its believed after the automotive sector has the “treason cut from its flabby flesh by the surgical precision of a Boris Johnson word salad”, the government will move democratically onwards into dropping facscist styled turd mortars onto the next quisling.

”The aerospace sector wants to watch out too,” Turd 3rd warned, “I heard that jumped up somebody yesterday, nattering away about just in time manufacturing, precision, the competitiveness throttling cost of warehousing spares.

Don’t think we don’t know they’re a nest of bloody fifth columnists also.”

LCD Views commends the government for the swift and truthful way it is dealing with the many unnecessary roadblocks being erected on the firm and trembling tarmac of Brexit by the bully boys in Brussels.

We encourage all big international investors and employers to pay the price for Brexit, regardless what their shareholders and employees may say, as we’re all Brexiters now, and furthermore, we’re all in it now. You don’t need certainty when you have faith. Thank you.

Britain’s mouldy cheese wheel, Iain Duncan Smith, has rolled himself out of the fridge and proposed a solution to the Irish Border problem, which until now, had seemed unresolvable.

“A seamless Irish border solution is readily available,” Irritable Duncan Syndrome droned, “people just have to show a little imagination and patriotism and get behind the country.”

But what is the solution Iain? Is it a construction of a physical manifestation of universal credit on the Irish Border?

“That sort of talk will get you into trouble. Traitor,” Irrational Debt Spend retorted, “you just have to look no further than the solution adopted by our good friends and neighbours on the Korean Peninsula.”

You do know they’re still technically at war, don’t you Iain?

“Getting lost in soundbites won’t help anyone,” Imagine Doing Something hit back, “The border between North and South Korea is a seamless border that utilities tried and test technology that has been in use for decades now.”

So you’re saying two armies facing off with thousands of artillery pieces ready to fire at a moment’s notice, and a massive aerial bombardment from the United States also constantly ready to fall from the sky?

“Oh, I don’t know if we need to involve the United States,” I Doom Spectre replied, “well, not at least until it’s time to start arms smuggling again.”

Thanks IDS, we don’t know what we’ll do if you ever get locked out of the BBC radio studios.

“Probably shout less at the radio while making your eggs in the morning.”

Wow. He actually said something provable and true.

Construction of the Road to Brexit, which goes from… somewhere… to… somewhere else, has apparently ceased. The reason is that costs have gone way over budget.

The illustrations are impressive, at least. They show a wide, sweeping expanse of glittering tarmac, elegant junctions, and hundreds of happy people in their cars. The only snag is that the route has not been defined. The map simply shows two dots, one marked “Here” and the other “Brexit”, and the Road, drawn freehand in crayon, more or less joins the two.

LCD’s Single Track Roads correspondent tracked down the construction headquarters with some difficulty. It turned out to be a shabby Portakabin in a field in the middle of nowhere. Cows munched the grass solemnly. There was no sign of the Road anywhere.

An old chap with an old spade and mucky wellingtons was in front of the Portakabin, digging a border. His name turned out to be Bill Droads.

Where is the Road to Brexit? we asked.

“It should be here,” replied Droads. “The first roundabout should be in the next field, and the main carriageway should be where you are standing.”

Should be? Should be? But this Road needs to be built immediately, doesn’t it?

“That’s right,” Droads confirmed. ”But construction has had to be halted before it has even started, because of cost overruns.”

How come? Nothing has been built yet.

“There has been a lot of money spent,” Droads said icily. “There’s the Managing Director, Finance Director, Marketing Director, a whole load of architects and management consultants, fancy offices in the heart of London, the works. There have been meetings, lunches, and a huge launch gala. All this has to be paid for. Unfortunately, nobody thought to plan a route or employ anyone to construct the Road.”

So it’s just you, in a Portakabin in a field?

“Yes. I even brought my own spade,” Bill confirmed. “They were too chicken to ask Carillion. I once tarmacked David Davis’ front drive so they asked me to do the job. But with no budget left I couldn’t do much. I can’t even ring up some mates to lend a hand as there’s no bloody signal out here!”

We decided to leave Bill to his border.

“Don’t tell them about the border!” he warned. “They will transfer me to Ireland!”

Rumour now has it that the Road will be orbital, like the M25. It doesn’t matter how far you drive, you always come back to where you started, sooner or later.

A woman and “the” boy were left struggling today to answer if “a” racism is now the only reason left for “the” Brexit?

Both individuals are currently surprisingly influential in shaping “a” future of “the” United Kingdom.

They’re certainly surprised.

”It’s great isn’t it!” “the” man told LCD Views,

“for years I shouted from the sidelines about injustice and progressive social values and then one day I found myself “the” boss.

It  was supposed to be “a” prank to keep some children of Tony Blair happy, or something. I never really got to the bottom of it, but I’m still laughing now.”

It seems both have been centre stage over the last nineteen months or so in the public discussion over what to do about “the” Brexit.

”It’s a bloody ride, I’ll tell you that for nothing,” “A” woman commented, “hair raising stuff. Mostly on the back of my neck, hitchhiker who turns out to be a serial killer kind of ride, but still, when I was just a girl learning to distrust people who looked different, I never dreamed one day I’d get to drive an entire national agenda on that basis.”

But it seems, even though both have reached giddier heights than anyone expected, they’re now struggling with how to go forward.

”I’ll keep supporting “the” woman in “a” parliament,” “the” man advised, “she can’t do anything without my help.

The fear of losing “the” youthquake makes me “a” bit jittery though, I may have to change “a” position or turn from hero to villain. Only “a” Lansman isn’t so keen on that. He wants “the” Lexit.”

So an endless pickle festival then?

”Yes. But focus on “the” woman would you please? Not on me. I’m trying to get “a” giant fencepost out of “the” backside.”

Okay.

”So what are you going to do now about “the” Brexit?” we asked “a” woman.

”Oh gosh. It’s very difficult. I admitted during “a” speech last Friday that it will make us poorer, it will lose us control, there’s not much left of “the” cake, I’m afraid. Even “the” official leader of “a” opposition can only vaguely promise to try make everyone a bit less poor, in the dreamscape of unicorns where he gets to do “the” negotiations.”

Well, what is left? There must be something? Still one reason?

”Yes,” they said as “a” chorus, “there is still “the” elephant in “the” Brexit room.”

Which is?

”The reason it all started to begin with. Can’t you see it? It’s staring you in the face?”

Prime Minister Theresa May is due to publish her gamblers’ guide any day now. She explains how to bluff your way to victory despite holding the two of diamonds and the seven of clubs.

This comes on the back of another great Brexit speech, in which she sets out her vision for Brexit as only a blind woman can.

LCD’’s Dubious Gambling Strategies correspondent took a cursory look through the book.

“It’s quite an unusual book, in many respects,” he said, in mystified tones. “For example, Chapter One, Call My Bluff, commences with a paragraph on basic bluffing. There follows a number of blank pages, presumably for David Davis to doodle on. It concludes with the words, ‘Repeat as necessary’.”

The book continues in similar vein, with an alarming lack of detail, and a determination to reinvent the rules of poker along the way. Of particular interest is the appendix, titled “Emergency Procedures”. This has red, white and blue-edged pages for ease of reference, and each page contains one of Theresa’s catchphrases.

Poker expert Tex Oldham was equally scathing. “Poker is a game of thrust and counter-thrust,” he stated. “Yes, there is an element of bluff, but a good player knows when he has had his chips and folds early on.”

Poker-faced May is playing for ever-increasing stakes. £1bn for the DUP? Done. The NHS? No problem. More crayons for David Davis? You bet. Has the Lady gone Gaga?

“She’s a busted flush,” opines Tex. “May is the gambler waiting in vain for that one big win to clear her debts. Who does she think she is, the queen of hearts? Off with her head!”

May is certainly determined to play her cards close to her chest. Does she have an ace up her sleeve? Or is it just a joker? Boris, the BoJoker, maybe?

Stick or twist? Like the knife in her back, it’s twist every time.

“One dose of Brexlax will allow you to take back control of your bowels and your borders,” Michael Gove claimed, as he fronted the ad campaign for Brelax Brexit laxatives, but now a shitstorm is brewing.

“It appears there was virtually no testing in either clinical trials or on monkeys,” LCD Views’ bathroom attendant said, “they just cooked up the recipe in Michael’s kitchen and made millions of batches. These were distributed by bus, and free with tabloids, all over the United Kingdom.”

But now it appears the government has had to step in and order an immediate recall of the claims accompanying Brexlax.

“People are reporting atrocious side affects,” our bathroom attendant continued, “one of my colleagues at Conservative central office said most ministers visiting spend the entire time in the WC groaning and more often than not praying for deliverance.”

It’s not known exactly what in the recipe is causing the liquid calamity in people using Brexlax, but it’s likely to be all the bullshit that went into the tablets.

“They’re about 99% bullshit actually,” our attendant added, “the other 1% is just pure racist spite. I wouldn’t take a Brexlax even if I were in danger of dying the death of Elvis.”

We did approach Michael Gove for comment on the viral furore, and he issued the following statement,

“This is proof of Brexlax’s effectiveness,” Mr Gove responded, “people are supposed to spend time on the toilet after taking my pills. It’s the signature touch of my involvement.”

But what should you do if you have some Brexlax in the home, or if a family member has some and is considering ingesting it?

“Burn them,” our toilet attendant said, “whatever you do do not let a reader of The Express take one. They’ve got it bad enough verbally as it is.”

LCD Views applauds the swift measures taken by Michael Gove to reassure the public over Brexlax.

We further advise that this laxative product is entirely unnecessary, because if you’re not already shitting yourself over Brexit, you soon will be.

“Just take one Brexlax a day and relax,” added Michael Gove, but he would, wouldn’t he.

LCD Views’ political games correspondent is thrilled to have been selected to announce Fudge-it Spinners have been chosen as official toy for Brexit.

“When David Davis cornered me in the Fudge ‘n Fiddle pub this morning I was initially concerned.

I could barely breathe in the mixture of whiskey fumes, testosterone and bs wafting off him in clouds,” Green Searchlight said,

“but once I realised that if I just didn’t breathe I could survive, things improved and I interpreted what he was saying.”

Apparently the decision to gift the announcement to LCD Views was made last minute, but that is standard for government policy in first the May administration, and now the Cummings’ government, and does not detract from the honour.

”Schools across Britain will be forced to distribute the fudge-it spinners to all children and lessons will be given in the main tricks. Diversion. Evasion. Outright lying. Retracting outright lies on twitter.

And finally, managing expectations of a country you intend to impoverish, partly to make Russian oligarch money laundering easier, partly for the imperial ambitions of US libertarians, but also to keep racists feeling less challenged by the way the world is changing with Brexit.”

Green managed to get the few legible words Davis said down in print and they are reproduced here, paraphrased, so as to be understandable.

”It’s to get the younger demographics signed up to Brexit. The fudge-it spinners are another tangible benefit and more than make up for a future devoid of freedom to move around an entire continent at all.

Also, they are more than sufficient to soothe any hurt feelings over not being able to take advantage of the various youth programmes the EU wastes money on in the hope of fostering a sense of ‘let’s not have another world war start in Europe’.”

Mr Davis had to go after he delivered the message. Apparently to steal a snowplow  and drive it into the pumps of a petrol station in Stevenage.

We asked six year old Emma Barnet what she thought of getting a free fudge-it spinner from the government.

”That seals it,” Emma said, “at the next general election I’m voting Conservative. Unless Labour respond with the offer of a slightly less crap Brexit, that still ensures my future options are pants.”

Episode 1: The Fellowship of the Wrong

The story begins in a hole. A big, deep, dark hole. And in the hole dwelt a bad Habbit named Nigel Faragollum. His mind was completely enslaved by his Magic Wrong.

The Wrong did not belong to Faragollum. It was the property of the dark lord Sauwrong, but it had been lost for years. Many believed that it would lie buried forever.

However the Wrong was found and taken underground by Faragollum. It was discovered in bizarre fashion by another Habbit, presented to the civilised Shires, and made respectable.

In time, though, minds became poisoned. Faragollum emerged to recover the Wrong. Sauwrong sent his chief lieutenant, the deadly Witch-King Dacre, to retrieve it.

Willbo, of the People of the Shires, was entrusted with the Wrong. He set off, pursued by the phantoms of xenophobia and sovereignty, to get beyond the Mounting Mistakes.

Accompanied by a motley band of wizards, dwarves and other mythical figures, Willbo managed to pass through the Mounting Mistakes. Unfortunately, he lost his most ardent supporter, who fell into a chasm of his own making.

Willbo was also pursued by trolls, unintelligent troglodytes parroting inane slogans. Unexpected relief came when the Lady Theresa and her ineffective husband gave the Wrong a break. Willbo emerged refreshed, and the Lady distributed gifts worth £10bn.

He then had to take the Wrong up the river without a paddle.

Faragollum followed Willbo wherever he went, desperately trying to recover his precious Wrong, but without success.

Eventually, and at his wits’ end, Willbo decided to do the right thing. He abandoned his illusory friends, and set off to destroy the Great Wrong with which he had been entrusted.

We remember the words of the prophet Camewrong echoing down the ages:

One vote to rule them all, one vote to bind them

One vote to bring them all and in the darkness bind them

In the land of Westminster where the ministers lie.

 

Episode Two: The Two Powers to follow…

“pssst, pssst Liam over here…………”

“What is it Boris, i’ve got to catch another flight to sign a fictitious trade deal with Narnia. So i don’t have much time. You know how big T wants daily trade deal success reports and things have been a bit thin on the ground of late”

“Look, look ! Look what i have bought. I saw one in Farage’s gaff and i said at the time……oh, how… i want one of those.”

“What is it Boris?”

“It’s a Brexit bed, Liam.”

“Well that’s what the picture on the front of the box shows and now all we have to do is put it together….you and me. You said you could sign a trade deal in two weeks and being a doctor, you will have the qualifications to be able to have this made up in a jiffy.”

“Where did you get it from Boris?”

“From Idea out on the outskirts of the EU. They have loadsa stuff when you walk around their massive shop. Except this one seems to have arrived in a big cardboard box.”

“Are their any instructions Boris?”

“Pah!….we don’t need instructions Liam. Look, we have the picture on the front, how hard can it be? Ah, here comes Jacob he can give us hand”

“What oh…..what are you up to Johson minor and friend? You do know the big T can give you a detention for fraternising in groups of two or more. Big T has become a bit paranoid of late, with thoughts of fellow Westminster MPs hatching ideas of a coup.”

“Jacob, we have the magic Brexit bed and we need a hand to put it together, perhaps if you read the instructions, as you are such a stickler for checking Hansard.”

“Oh i don’t do instructions dear boy, I have a man to do that. But I am intrigued with the Brexit bed. It looks big enough for all of us to lie in it. Boris what are you doing?”

“Quick, quick, here comes Anna Soubry and Dominic Grieve. Everyone quick, stand in front of it. I don’t want her and Dominic to get sight of our special prize.”

Hello boys, what do you have there?

“Nothing that you would understand Anna,” said Jacob, “this is male talk.”

“Dominic, that looks like the Brexit bed that Barnier was talking about. Remember, he said that there was a manufacturing problem and that Brussels could not give it a CE mark as it was inherently faulty. Something about when you lie in it, you can’t stop yourself from lying.”

“I am already drafting an amendment to make Boris stay in this bed forever,” reassured Dominic.

“Oh, Boris…..you have to go and buy one of them, didn’t you? As I recall, Farage had one and he passed it on to Donald Trump as a presidential inauguration present.”