Category: Democracy

Wonderful, just wonderful and fantastic news today with the announcement by local pressure group Momentum that they are rebranding as Abstention and relaunching their special brand of small hall focused politics with a sandwich cream.

We were invited along especially to the press conference, which was given at the smallest town hall ever constructed in England, just off the coast of Norwich on an islet most people have forgotten is still there. But it’s still campaigning, even if no one will bother to report it, so there.

”Perfect place to continue to build momentum,” our guide, a nineteen year old sociology student who stands to inherit millions once he gives up the commie stuff and agrees to run Dad’s oil company, as is his birthright,

“are you going to Jeremybury next week? Fab party in the park. Nothing better to get together and sing some songs while the country decays into the state needed for revolution. Da comrade? Da?”

Da. Now, what about this sandwich spread?

”Oh phew, for a horrible moment from the bad look in your capitalist’s eye I thought you were going to ask why Corbyn keeps siding with May on Brexit.”

Let’s talk about the sandwich spread first and get to the minor stuff later?

”Yes. Otherwise I’ll organise a pile on on all social media platforms in the hope of bullying you out of the debate.”

I’m used to it. I saw through Corbyn in 2016 when it came to Brexit. As Brexit will rule all and make all the positive policy ideas of Labour impossible, I’ve been questioning for a while.

”You lack purity of essence. That’s your problem. You’re now personally responsible for rough sleepers. You Blairite scum.”

Save it for after we publish. Tell me about the sandwich spread?

”Oh. Right. It has purity of essence all through it.”

But why call it Abstention?

”Because that’s all we do as the official opposition. Abstain. Remember, Lexit is more important than the NHS.”

So it’s a fresh, principled, new kind of sandwich spread?

”It sure is. Here, have a taste.”

Tastes bloody cynical to me.

”That’s because you’re scum. Now, would you like to join Abstention? It’ll only cost you all the manufacturing jobs the United Kingdom has left.”

In a shock move Tuesday, former UKIP leader and seven times unelected parliamentary candidate Nigel Farage has denied that he ever claimed to be Nigel Farage.

Speaking live on his early evening radio chat show “Drive you round the bend time with Nigel Farage”, Farage denied categorically that he had ever confirmed that his name was or ever had been Nigel Farage.

“True, Nigel Farage did claim that Britain would be better off outside the EU. Yes he did support the claim we send £350m to Brussels every week and we should spend that money on the NHS instead. And he absolutely did claim that 70% of UK laws are made in Brussels when in fact it’s only about 13%, but did I ever say I was Nigel Farage? ” cackled a red eyed unshaven Farage casually slipping a small bottle labelled “serum” into the pocket of his silk lined cloak.

Breaking off from his demented monologue to take calls to the phone-in segment of the show, Farage, or “not Farage” as he claimed to be, was nonplussed by one caller demanding to know how he, Nigel Farage, as the host of his own radio show, named after him, Nigel Farage, could blithely deny being Nigel Farage, the person named as hosting the radio show, “Drive you round the bend time with Nigel Farage”.

Momentarily flummoxed and unable to answer, Farage announced a commercial break, returning a few minutes later clean shaven and relaxed.

“Well, it’s quite simple,” he coughed.

“I don’t know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a political butterfly, or whether I am now a political butterfly, dreaming I am a man,” he explained, paraphrasing fourth century Chinese philosopher Zhuangzi who he also confirmed he had never heard of. Probably.

“Either that or I need to have a word with my GP, Dr Jekyll, about this vitamin tonic he has me on…” he added.

In other news, Broadway producer Harvey Winebottle has confirmed that he is keen to cast Farage to play the lead role in his up-coming stage musical version of “Fanny by Gaslight”.

“Clearly Nigel’s ability to make the most outrageous statements and then blithely harass listeners into agreeing that he never said them, demonstrates an uncanny ability at “gaslighting” that can only benefit the show,” said Winebottle.

“While the rest of the title is something he is clearly, equally synonymous with,” he winked.

The UK’s members of parliament are to vote on all the Lords amendments to the EU Withdrawal Bill next week. This asks the best minds the United Kingdom can assemble under one generous benefits package if they’d like to continue doing the job they’re paid for or be replaced by a giant rubber stamp? I was going to write “members to decide whether or not to firm up or just be a giant catalogue of dildos”, but that seemed crass.

“It’s a tough call,” one MP told LCD on the condition of anonymity, “thinking can be really hard. The option to carry on letting May and Davis and other titans do the thinking for me is pretty tempting.”

They also have to weigh in the risk of demanding parliamentary sovereignty over the minor matter of Brexit and risk the wrath of offshore tax exile media barons calling them traitors to democracy, a democracy said media barons feed off but arguably don’t help pay for.

“My brain actually hurts. I’m trying to please all of the people all of the time, and it’s really difficult,” J C of N Islington told us, “I’m actually very excited about a little party I’m throwing in a park a few days later. The whole country is slowly turning into a steaming pile of autocratic shit and I’m planning a party? Does that make me a commie? It’s better to sit this one out quietly in the corner and keep getting paid whether or not I do the vital job in a adversarial representative parliament that I’m paid for? A bit like a pampered domestic cat. An old one. One who likes the fire lit early in the afternoon. I let other people do the planning for me.”

Complicating the issue is the overwhelming anxiety of getting voted out at an election if they end up carrying a can hardly any of them think should be carried to begin with.

“Look. I had a friend who wanted to jump off a cliff. It was a very high cliff. I told them it was a bad idea. They said they were going to anyway, but could I give them a lift to the cliff as they didn’t have any bus fare.

So I drove them to the cliff. They’re still at the edge of it, last I looked, now I’ve got to decide whether or not I push them off, pull them back, or just hold hands and jump with them.

If I manage to land on top of them I might come away with only a broken hip. I’m sure they won’t survive the fall. It’s really difficult to decide what to do.”

Still, next week, they get to all decide together at least in a mad rush something that should be deliberated over for a very long time.

If they choose to become a rubber stamp it will make future choices much easier.

“I’m probably going to vote to become a big rubber stamp. That way, whatever happens afterwards won’t be my fault.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to finish reading this little article on ‘The Glorious Revolution’. I’m not really sure what that was all about. It was so long ago now.”

Digby Jones is the latest pot to call the kettle black. The unelected, unaccountable Lord of the Realm is railing against EU officials doing their jobs.

Poor Digby has lost sight of some of the facts. The EU is governed the same way that the UK is. Elected MEPs debate and decide. Then civil servants work to make it happen. There’s a word for these civil servants, which may inform Digby’s prejudice. Experts.

LCD’s Parachuted Politicians correspondent spoke to friend and fellow Lord, Lady Lawdown, to gain an insight into His Lordship’s state of mind.

“He’s a crossbencher for starters,” she said tartly. “That means nobody has to sit next to him!”

But isn’t he an expert businessman? After all he was director general of the CBI, and made a lord so he could join the government?

“Yes, but nobody is quite sure how he managed it,” replied Lady Lawdown. “He has made a career of being kicked upstairs. Not so much CBI, more like CBA.”

CBA?

“Can’t Be Arsed,” Her Ladyship retorted.

“I am a Lord, which makes me both Right and Honourable!” Jones broke in. “How dare you!”

“Hush, Digby dear, you will go all gammony again,” said the Lady, consolingly. “It’s not a good look, the whole of Twitter will be mocking you. Here, put some pineapple on your face and chill.”

“Anyone fighting against Brexit is a destructive remoaner!” he persisted. “Traitors! Denying me my right to cream off even more taxpayers’ money! Stop being obstructive, and let’s just get on with it.”

“Digby, give it a rest. Have a fried egg,” soothed Lady Lawdown. “Parliament exists to smooth the process and come to a reasonable conclusion.”

“But, but, but, Parliament is a tyranny!” he exploded.

“Yes. And you are part of that Parliament,” she sighed. ”Now go back to your office, and don’t come out again until you have calmed down properly.”

Unelected Digby’s Tyrannical Parliament is imposing a destructive, illegitimate Brexit upon the country against the wishes of a huge swathe of the British People. That’s democracy, folks.

LCD Views can report on the latest developments with the Faragenfurter after an exclusive interview today with Nigel Farage, conducted in a pet cemetery.

“Do you think this would be a good spot to bury Brexit?” Britain’s ingrown toenail asked us, “there’s a nice bit of shade from that oak close by? A good thing too. A proper British tree. None of that foreign muck.”

The ground looks a bit stoney, we suggested, good British bluestone though, none of that foreign muck. It could work. We could dig a test hole?

“I hope no one from somewhere far away buries their pet far right, tax dodging, completely shambolic, would have worked if May had got that increased majority last year as we could just have crashed out and cashed in, aided and abetted by malign forces and useful idiots, political project here.”

We asked if he was worried about not being able to eavesdrop on the conversations going on nearby, when coming to lay flowers on Brexit’s grave? Having understood that he claims now to have never have said Brexit would make the UK better off, just he had tenderly hoped it would make us all as racist and despicable as him?

“I’m not coming back after the burial,” Mr Farage rebuffed, “now look here, don’t you go saying I ever, ever suggested Brexit was a project the great British people should embark on.”

But you were the zombie king of Brexit for years?

“That’s fake news,” Mr Farage flushed, “in fact I will tell you now, no, no, no, don’t interrupt me, I will tell you now, in one week from now I’ll be denying I ever campaigned for Brexit to begin with.”

Can we print that today? Is this an exclusive?

“Nothing is exclusive about me but my adoration of Spode, Moseley and tooth brush moustaches.”

Can we print that in seven days?

“Only after I tweet it. Only an idiot would campaign for Brexit.”

Horror in central London today as beloved and beleaguered British chumocracy toast rack, foot stool and all round bowel complaint Iain Duncan Smith was rushed to A&E with lock jaw after his vocal CAPS LOCK stuck during Brexit outburst.

”It was horrifying to witness,” giggled a witness, “I nearly shat myself I laughed so hard when his lower jaw just jammed in place during a Brexit interview.”

It seems Irritable Duncan Smite Self In Face With Fist And Repeat was talking about using denigration, film flam, dismissal of reality and insults to bridge the growing divide in U.K. politics regarding Brexit when the calamity occurred.

”Clearly we all know now that only tax dodgers and fascists and geriatric revolutionaries who need complete chaos to progress from GO are going to benefit from Brexit,” an expert opined, “so Eerie Douchebag Shit is finding the going a bit rum when he’s wheeled out like an old veined cheese to berate and badger the populace to get behind Brexit.”

So deep now is the rhetorical deficit in support of the hard right, hard left, shake it all and ruin all about Brexit project now that Irritable Dickhead Smith is having to plunder the genius deployed online by kippers and biffers and bots in debates (loosely using that word) about Wrexitall.

”He got very worked up. He started squirming. He was frothing at the mouth some and then it happened. He reached in deep. He just shoved his head right up his own arse, got stuck at his shoulders and ploughed on regardless of the harm he was doing to himself and anyone watching.”

Is that when his jaw locked?

”Yes. He just finished shouted, flat palm raised, if you love the EU so bloody much why don’t you go and live there!!!,!!! and his vocal caps lock broke in the depressed position. I doubt he’ll recover.”

Doctors have advised they will be operating on Idiotic Dangerous S tonight in the hope of fixing his lock jaw.

”I have to correct you there,” the expert corrected us there, “they’re not fixing the vocal caps lock, they’re slamming his jaws together and nailing them shut. It’s what the Hippocratic oath calls for. It’s in Iain’s interests and everyone’s.” 

Cuddly lounge lizard Richard Madeley is being parachuted into the role of Speaker. The serene sofa dweller was offered the role following his brutal treatment of waffling Defence Secretary Gavin Williamson.

It is highly unusual, not to say unconstitutional, to offer this role to someone who is not a sitting MP. But this is Brexit Britain. Brexitannia waives the rules.

Madeley himself was surprised and a little nonplussed. “It’s a great honour, naturally,” he told LCD’s Random Appointments correspondent. “All this fuss over little me losing patience with a dissembling gobshite!”

Madeley is hardly in the premier league of political interviewers. He is more often associated with cosy chats on magazine programmes. His action in closing an interview because Williamson refused to answer a straight question hinted at an iron fist inside his velvet glove.

The elephant in the room who wandered into shot during the interview issued the following statement.

“Normally I can’t be seen, but the current situation has rendered me visible. I made a trunk call to Donald Tusk. He advised me to come down out of my ivory tower.”

Madeley meanwhile has promised to eliminate filibustering and outright lying. “And this childish jeering will be stopped too,” he added. “Miscreants will be obliged to watch me and Judy discussing whether Nadine Dorries’ books are as bad as her voting record with Gyles Brandreth.”

Current Speaker John Bercow was not happy. “A third rate, opinionated journalist doing the job of a third rate, opinionated politician! It’s a national disgrace!” he blustered. “They will eat him alive at Prime Minister’s Question Time! Although that actually sounds quite appealing upon reflection.”

And what do you think about Madeley’s proposed sanction?

“Oh my goodness. Being forced to watch Richard And Judy? If that doesn’t make them behave, nothing will!”

I’m an MP, get me out of here! starts filming next Monday.

Great news for people worried Jeremy Corbyn risks being alone at the Labour Live event planned for June, just great, great news.

”It’s great news,” a Labour Momentum activist told us, before returning to work on a JC shrine they will carry bareback over broken glass and gravel to the event even as the nonsense of Jobs first Brexit and a seamless Irish Border out of the single market fails to penetrate through the woolly and comforting hope in a messiah.

Just great news.

Yes!

The great news is even thought the tickets for the Labour Glasto revive are set at a price point unemployed and low income people might struggle to afford.

Even though the event is in London, just to inadvertently send a message to the mysterious and barely mapped other regions of England, that it’s really about the capital no matter who’s staring on the performance space, so anyone travelling down has to contend with travel and accommodation costs too.

Still great news.

Even though they’ll need all that cultish fervour to replicate the buzz of thousands of people on e’s in a field.

Just great news with the revelation that BBC Radio 4 living mental, archaeological, special feature John Humphrys is to guest star with Jeremy Corbyn on stage and sing “The people HAD a vote (once)”.

”They don’t need any other,” our devotee reminded us, gold paint going on the sandals of the life size replica of JC they intend to symbolicly marry at the event in the field.

”One vote is quite enough to decide anything, regardless of what new information comes to light,” they reminded us, glowing, they’re just glowing, “and once we’re swept to power over the catastrophic ruin Corbyn is assisting that idiotic robot in Downing Street to bring about, that will be the last vote the people need too.”

Get your tickets early. Humphrys has written the EURef special specially.

Oh, and rumours of a rift occurring in the Labour leadership because Corbyn is to sing with Humphrys and not McDonnell is not true. McDonnell is to sing “My Way” standing on a mountain of little red books.

Roll up! Roll up! It’s a jobs are lost first followed by the NHS celebratory cross party leadership delivering Brexit event!

A man who must be unaware how much the public despises him has today announced his plot to become prime minister via an article in a tabloid newspaper.

”Experts tell me don’t try it, you’ll finish off the Conservative Party for good if you do,” the man told us during an interview conducted in a sewer pipe, “but who listens to experts? I think people have had quite enough of informed, fact based analysis. None of our policy is based on it and we’ve been getting away with murder for eight years now.”

The man may have a point, given the main policy agendas currently guiding the country and the fact no one is rioting.

”The Tories are dying slowly anyway, which is nothing at all to do with my time in government,” the man added, “even if my own father has described me as a liar.”

As part of the man’s plot he sees himself knifing placeholder prime minister, artificial life form Maybot, in the primary circuit and assuming control just a minute after midnight descends forever on the United Kingdom with Brexit.

”No one will blame me,” the man said, displaying a depth of self delusion only possible if someone lives in a sewer pipe surrounded by their policy ideas, “and I’ll reign as lord of the flies at Rupert’s pleasure until we rebrand ourselves with that cuddly woman from the north. Then I’ll become a Lord. Lord Toad of Toad Hall has a nice ring to it.”

But does the would be Lord Toad see any obstacles in the way of a plan which on the surface is seamless?

”Mass outbreak of sanity?” he replied, “but I’m confident the good people of the United Kingdom have had quite enough of that too.”

Let’s wait and see on that score. Ireland has just shown us all it’s possible to vote overwhelmingly for a progressive agenda, even in a referendum.

UKIP MEP Gerry Mandarin has slammed opponents of Brexit for subverting democracy. Obstructing the path of negotiation and poisoning every debate is, he says, UKIP’s raison d’etre.

“We piss in the water and shit in the bed,” claimed Mandarin, flushing slightly. “It’s what we do. We in UKIP have been trying to debate the real issues for years, but the Germans keep blocking us. What about the EU’s internal problems? Every time UKIP raises the issue, the bloody Krauts change the subject. The EU is undemocratic, inefficient and corrupt. We think it isn’t undemocratic, inefficient and corrupt enough!”

Mandarin paused to mop his brow, his florid face increasingly resembling a juicy gammon steak sizzling on a barbecue.

“I have personally dedicated 23 years of my life to bringing about Brexit,” he bragged. “And it’s all going wrong. Of course we have a plan. It’s to leave, asap. It’s that easy. These lefty types, trying to inject a little reality into the process, have missed the point. They lost, they should shut up and leave the subversion to the experts.”

It was quite easy to imagine a ring of pineapple and a fried egg on Mandarin’s face at this point.

“Of course, Brexit means UKIP has achieved its principal objective,” Mandarin continued. “But we are still unhappy about everything. The party will be renamed the We Are Still Upset Party, or WASUP. Party members will greet one another by saying ‘WASUP?!’ and then complain bitterly about not getting their own way about everything. I promise you that playthings will continue to be ejected from the perambulator for some time to come.”

A pint of best bitter. A dab of English mustard.

“I work very hard at avoiding any real work,” Mandarin concluded. “Coz it’s the EU innit, and we want out. I did do my bit in the referendum though. I volunteered to fill in thousands of proxy votes and stuffed the ballot box. I always do my bit for democracy.”

Only one question remains to be asked: Do you want chips, mash or a jacket potato with that?