Category: Democracy

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?

Recent studies from the University of Shambles, Westminster campus, suggest that Queen Elizabeth II’s famous EU hat has proven to be a stronger opposition to Brexit than the leader of the official opposition.

”It’s a bit of a surprise,” Professor Noshit Sherlock told us, “well, it is to some Momentum members. It’s not to anyone paying attention. To be frank myself and my colleagues should be focused solely on climate change and other social justice issues. Not on publishing mocking rants against the lock stock swindle of U.K. plc by modern fascists.”

But is there any realistic possibility of the Queen’s EU hat challenging the old Bennite Brexiter for leadership of the Labour Party?

”It couldn’t do a worse job faced with the most toxic, shambolic, embarrassing and cruel Tory administration anyone can remember. It consistently polls ahead of both May and Corbyn as preferred prime minister.”

It’s believed on the back of these revelations that certain yellow Tory shill Blairite scum are looking to form a party and have approached the hat to see if it will consider being leader.

”It has a mass of material to challenge the government with. When you consider the mass loss of investment, jobs, relevance, respect, the way Brexit has emboldened racists and made the U.K. a global laughing stock, the emerging revelations of criminality in the Brexit campaigns and the way they likely tie to senior serving cabinet ministers, the hat is going to be in Downing Street by mid summer on an anti-Brexit, jobs first agenda.”

If the cap fits?

”The UK will wear it.”

New members of the House of Lords are to be chosen on the same basis as audience members for Question Time. Carefully selected plants, who will say what they are told to say, will prevent further embarrassment to the government.

Question Time has rigorously trialled this approach. Subversives, traitors and enemies of the people can be weeded out before they can engage in debate.

“The rebellious Lords need to be controlled,” said reformer Sir Rees Mogg-Jacob. “How dare they contradict the will of the ERG! Sorry, I mean the will of the people, of course. That’s not what the Lords is for. They should simply be a quirky anachronism, like the Royal Family.”

The BBC reacted angrily. “The Question Time audience is always a fair cross-section of society,” claimed toady Picton Utter. “We always ensure that all points of view, from ‘get over it’ to ‘get on with it’ are covered.”

However, independent commentators are not convinced. Especially as one of the proposed new Lords, Lord Soames, perfectly fits the profile of an angry, overprivileged, entitled gammon.

“The unelected Lords are a travesty of democracy!” claims Mogg-Jacob, whose knighthood was confirmed earlier in the week. “The least that can be done is to ensure safe passage of the right sort of legislation.” Pressed on what he believes to be the “right sort of legislation”, his lordship replies, “Anything I agree with, of course.”

Is this all part of a concerted attempt to make the modern world less stressful? After all, if we all just agreed that Brexit means Brexit and stopped moaning about it, we would all feel much better.

To help with this transition, what’s left of the NHS is offering surgery to replace overworked brain tissue with cured and salted pork.

And if anyone still disagrees, there is plenty of space for saboteurs in the Tower of London.

The new kid on the block of British politics, Don’t Know, is expected to announce shortly they are to form a new centre left political party and challenge both of the old, dog tired, useless in the face of hard right racketeering parties.

We spoke to Don’t Know in an exclusive interview to find out more about their plans and vision for the U.K.

”You weren’t followed, were you?” Don’t Know asked, without even saying hello.

”We’re in my office,” our reporter replied, “and I haven’t left the house in a week due to a Netflix binge, so I doubt it. What about you?”

Don’t Know nodded and accepted the offered seat.

”I’m followed all over,” they said, “sometimes it feels like nearly half the country is right behind me. Other days less.”

Is this why you’re forming your own political party and challenging the two old parties who both claim to be up to the job of protecting Britain from foreign interference in our democratic process, while simultaneously promoting one of the pet projects of malicious external actors?

”That, and the fact I’m bloody popular. I’ve been outpolling that old shovel Corbs for months even once you allow for polling errors and I’m breathing down the Maybot’s neck. Which isn’t hard to do of course. Or shouldn’t be. What the hell is Corbyn up to? The long game?”

Don’t Know pauses to shake their head, before going on,

“Now is the time to push forward and capture the mass of swing voters who are looking for an honest broker.”

You’re not worried power will corrupt?

”Yes of course I am. And I’m bloody keen to test my character from the big chair at 10 Downing Street.”

I don’t suppose you could do worse than the AI system already there.

”Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure. Conditions are ripening in the U.K. for a new populist with charisma to sweep the board, as people realise the old hands aren’t up to the job. I may not be as nice as you hope.”

You’re not really selling yourself to me.

”You wait until I’m polling over 50% and ride down Pall Mall on an actual unicorn. Indecision will vanish in a flash. And besides I might just be the shot in the ass both main parties are looking for to decide to back a leader who can beat Don’t Know hands down.”

Rather than leaders who frame the national debacle currently going on and are making things worse week by week?

”I was going to end with I don’t know about you, but now you’ve spoiled it.”

I don’t know how?

”I do. I’m a more important indicator of what’s happening in our politics than most people think.”

INT    KEIR STARMER’S OFFICE DAWN

A big wooden desk with a green leather top. The dawn’s first rays push through a crack in the curtains and drift across it. Dust motes dance in those.

We can hear a turntable’s needle bump, bump, bump. It’s reached the end of the record. Jumping in one rut over and over. The music over.

The sunlight hits a crystal decanter on the desk and creates a prism which fills our eyes now and then as we circle around. It’s all slow, slow motion.

The top is off the decanter. It has a drop or two of amber liquid left inside.

KEIR STARMER sits with his back to the light. We can’t see his face. He’s in shadow.

But we see his hand as it reaches for the decanter. Light bouncing off the gold ring. The well manicured nails. The cuff of a well tailored suit jacket. The pristine white shirt.

The hand takes hold of the decanter. The springs and leather of his chair creak as he tilts his head back.

KEIR STARMER (giggling)

I must not undermine the leader. Those who undermine the leader will be deselected.

He raises that crystal bottle high and tilts.

CLOSE ON

The last drops of liquid as they fall slowly through a sun beam and into the shadow.

Give the bottle a shake. There’s nothing left.

KEIR STARMER (we don’t see his face yet)

Screw it. Just screw it all.

A door opens on the other side of the room just as KEIR STARMER puts the bottle to his mouth and tries to play a tune by blowing inside it.

A youngish man enters. STARMER’S HANDLER. He’s dressed in a Chairman Mao suit. He is attempting to grow a Lenin beard, but it’s all wispy. He has a red book in his hand.

STARMER’S HANDLER

Comrade Starmer. It’s time.

KEIR STARMER (slurred)

I’ll do it. I want to do it. I believe it’s right to do it. The people have decided. It doesn’t matter that it’s complete economic insanity. Hardship builds character.

The young man advances to the table. He’s fast.

STARMER’S HANDLER

Show me your wrists Comrade Starmer. Put out your hands.

KEIR STARMER

I am not wearing those capitalist cufflinks. I am good. I am doing good. I’m wearing the red star ones John gave me. I will never undermine the leader. I am not wrong thinking like Owen. I am not bad like Chuka.

STARMER’S HANDLER

Show me your wrists or I’ll take you to the basement and the hose.

Now for the first time we see KEIR STARMER fully.

A flash of terrified eyes.

He lurches out of his chair and stumbles to the window. Draws the curtains back fully.

He begins to fumble at the latch on the window. He’s too drunk. He can’t work it.

STARMER’S HANDLER puts a whistle to his lips and blows. One fast shrill blast.

KEIR STARMER freezes. Then shivers. Then tries to open the latch again.

KEIR STARMER

I just need some air. I just need a little air.

STARMER’S HANDLER

If I have to blow the whistle again it means you’re very, very naughty. Jeremy and John are waiting to hear you tell the Today programme why we have to leave the single market. John Humphrys will tell you that is the right thing to do because the people had a vote. Once. We can not be late.

KEIR STARMER grows still.

He turns. He offers a hand to the young man, simultaneously tugging at his coat cuff to cover the cufflink at the wrist.

STARMER’S HANDLER smiles. He takes KEIR STARMER by the wrist and begins to lead him from the room.

STARMER’S HANDLER

Be a good comrade Keir.

KEIR STARMER

After the BBC interview can we get some brekkie?

STARMER’S HANDLER

If you say the right things.

KEIR STARMER

Good. I am so very hungry. Can I have some bacon?

STARMER’S HANDLER

Comrade Keir, you know the leader decides what the people eat for breakfast. I believe today it’s jam, but only after study.

STARMER’S HANDLER stops. He examines KEIR STARMER’S wrist.

CLOSE ON

A cufflink with the flag of the European Union.

The two men lock eyes. KEIR STARMER shakes his head.

KEIR STARMER

No. No. No. I didn’t do it. A yellow tory Blairite shill must have snuck in and done it while I slept. Please. Don’t tell the messiah! He’ll tell me I’m a naughty boy!

STARMER’S HANDLER releases him and puts his whistle to his lips.

STARMER’S HANDLER

This is a serious breach of right thinking.

KEIR STARMER runs for the window.

KEIR STARMER’S HANDLER holds the whistle to his lips.

KEIR STARMER’S HANDLER

This is a 43A-i subsection three (whistle blast), chapter 9 (whistle blast), paragraph 37(whistle blast), bullet point 2904 (whistle blast), category blue (whistle blast), violation.

EXT    KEIR STARMER’S OFFICE – CONTINUOUS

We stand facing the window. Looking inside as KEIR STARMER fumbles and curses at the latch inside.

We can just hear the whistle blowing, blowing.

Hands. So many hands begin to cover KEIR STARMER. They drag him away from the window. The curtain slowly closes.

END SCENE