Category: Global Britain

IT AIN’T WHAT YOU DO, IT’S THE WAY THAT YOU DO IT: The Channel blockade problem has been solved by a Boris Brainwave. Cut out the middleman and ping goods direct to Calais. 

The method is simple. Johnson will install a massive catapult. English goods will be placed into the contraption, which, when triggered, will project the happy produce to the continent, bypassing the need for all those pesky forms. 

It’s about time. Johnson is an expert on building bridges and tunnels. It was only a matter of time before he diversified into air transport. 

The catapult, it goes without saying, has already been described as being world beating. Construction has not yet started. There are several reasons for this. 

“To be honest, we are still waiting for a skip,” said project manager Manda Tory-Teabreak. “Also, we are having difficulty in sourcing a suitably powerful elastic band.” 

Nomenclature was also proving problematic. 

“We recommended a classic trebuchet design,” said Tory-Teabreak. “But that was rejected because the name was too French. We had to employ hundreds of consultants on over £2360 a day to negotiate a more suitable name. It was exactly the same when we installed that personal home guillotine for Priti Patel.” 

And that wasn’t all. 

“Where’s the labour coming from?” demanded Tory-Teabreak in an exasperated voice. “Normally we use Polish workers, or Albanians if we are desperate, but they have all been sent home. We can’t get the timber from the Baltic states any more. ‘Sorry luv, we don’t export to fucking Plague Island any more,’ that was what they told us.”

It’s a great opportunity for British workers and British timber. 

“You mean the feckless lazy Brits?” spluttered Tory-Teabreak. “No chance! And British wood is only fit to burn!” 

An anonymous government source claimed that a technological solution was in development. 

Many are hoping that Johnson will be the first to try out the catapult. 

THIS SKEWERED ISLE : A new survey of the U.K. population by NoGov, a polling organisation that keeps its finger on the pulse, has revealed the current U.K. attitudes to Brexit.

The most common response to “What is Brexit?” was that it’s “Got done”. The survey also revealed a total lack of understanding of what that means. Not that that matters, as it has never mattered.

And the survey also revealed a characteristically British understatement to the project.

“People think it’s best not to mention it in the presence of Continentals,” a NoGov staffer told LCD Views. “We don’t want to embarrass them, given the difficulties they are clearly having dealing with their new realities. We know the French will just be privately embarrassed to have lost out, especially now that they have to deal with the direct competition of English champagne in the market. The Spanish are distraught as we’re no longer around to help them have a country by filling it with retirees, many who only want to help them learn English. And don’t get me started on the Italians. Their governments are so unstable, their supposed strongmen just manchildren.”

There was also concern for the Dutch. “Where are they going to put all the money?” was a strong concern, as they are clearly surprised by all the business that used to clutter up London turning up in Amsterdam.

But the survey did have good news for Britain’s sovereign, Boris Johnson.

“People are just happy he got Brexit done,” the staffer revealed. “Now we can talk about other things. Like our world beating approach to Covid-19.”

HEAD BASH WALL : THE UK maybe in the grip of a pandemic so fatally mismanaged that nearly half of its fatalities have occurred in just the last couple of months, but that doesn’t mean it’s time to clean up the messaging surrounding summer holidays. Costa del Sol or Cornwall? So hard to decide.

“To be fair, anywhere not governed by the incredible dynamism of Johnson and Gove is bound to be a popular choice for Global Britons,” our Tourism expert opines. “I mean just imagine waking up one morning to find yourself living under the reign of terror of Jacinda Ardern? You’d have a right tingle up your spine.”

Australia, Japan, Taiwan, Vietnam, South Korea and others are also thought to be popular destinations for lockdown ministers with one hand hovering over Expedia and another on their diary. Those summer holidays are very long if you’re an MP.

“But let’s not forget France and the Costa del Sol. The traditional British destinations are still high on the list of places we aim to visit in Summer 2021. World beating tourist destinations.”

And while the speculation over whether to go to Malaga or even stay in the UK and infest Cornwall is understandable, some minor voices are suggesting other forces may intercede.

“Other countries mostly,” our expert shrugs. “They may bizarrely decide to control their borders. It will be a baffling sight. We may learn how to do it if we watch closely. The motivation could be our ramped up ability to mutate CV-19 at home. We’re not specifically doing it for the export market, but that’s the end result. Maybe the entire Earth will decide to tell us to stay the fuck at home and deal with the Johnson shitshow? It’s too early to tell.”

Newlyn or Seville? Where do you want to take your local CV-19 variant this summer?

OH FOR SCHUCK’S SAKE : THE UK HAD TO LEAVE THE EUROPEAN UNION OR THE “MANDATE” DERIVED FROM CRIMINAL INTERFERENCE IN THAT FAMOUS OPINION POLL BACK IN 2016 WOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN FULFILLED. WE ALL KNOW THIS. Mostly because John Humphrys shouted it at everyone for a few years before retiring from the Today programme. Democracy dies if lies don’t thrive. Isn’t that how it goes? Who cares? No one in the UK political or media landscape much. Because we’re better than all that.

And we all know what we were voting for.

Remainers were voting to remain part of the most powerful trade bloc on Earth, to protect the minimum standards that guaranteed equality in human activities and protected the environment, to maintain the valuable FOM rights that the EU enfranchises members with at birth – regardless of the wealth of the family someone is born into, and vitally, to continue the peace project of the EU on a continent that for thousands of years previously, routinely, slaughtered one another.

And Leavers were voting for a bus.

Because of the industrial scale of lies and false promises some were susceptible too. Say it quietly…some were racist. Some were oblivious. Some just wanted to give David Cameron a kicking. Some were stuck in the 1970’s in terms of labour relations, and still are. So genuinely believed it would improve their lives.

And because one of the UK’s most prominent and powerful Conservative politicians fronted the campaign to leave they were wooed. He talked their pants off, as he’s talked many pants off in the past. Who cares what comes next? It’s the gratification of the moment that counts.

And no one’s overalls were more successfully talked off than the fishermen of the UK.

And now they’re stuffed. Because now they can’t sell into the market on their doorstep in a timely enough fashion to satisfy their customers, which they were warned repeatedly would happen before the UK triumphantly left the EU. If the EU became the third country it demanded to be.

But a negligent media and a dishonest political class didn’t care about all that. They just kept up the pillow talk all the way through until they’d finished screwing the fishing industry senseless. Pumped and dumped.

And now, for now, the fishing industry is well and trully schucked.

But it’s not all bad. It’s becoming an unintended environmental windfall. And later today Britain’s biggest environmentalist, Boris Johnson, is rumoured to be planning to celebrate it by declaring – the “UK is now leading the world in shellfish preservation!”

But nobody will be buying that either…so what’s next? Re-join the single market? Re-join the customs union? The fishermen should retrain as ballerinas maybe? Ballerinas who are retraining in digital?

No one can say. But what all can agree on is that the catch that has landed is not the one everyone was promised was in the net. Maybe the oysters are happy as clams though? Still on the sea floor? Maybe that’s the only tangible benefit of Brexit.

PUTTING TWO AND TWO TOGETHER TO MAKE FIVE: For every crisis there is a solution. On the one hand, there is a surplus of British shellfish we can’t offload onto the Europeans. On the other, there is the problem of Marcus Rashford banging on about hungry children. Isn’t it obvious to combine the two?

“We can’t give the stuff away!” is the cry of the Brexit-voting fishermen who simply didn’t believe in Britain hard enough. Oh yes you can. Give it to kids, who are unable to distinguish sea-based creepy-crawlies from a cheese sandwich and half an apple.

What’s more it’s free, thanks to the government bailing out the fishing industry to the tune of eleventy seventeenty thousand hundred roubles. I mean pounds. Pounds, not roubles. Anyway, each lunchbox will come with links to a website giving recipe ideas for Lobster Thermidor, Moules Marinieres, and Clam Chowder. Nutritious, delicious, and educational!

It’s enough to warm the cockles.

Every single precious British whelk, barnacle and scallop will be individually stamped with a Union Jack and a picture of Boris Johnson. The delighted seafood will leap out of their shells and into the pot, laughing, on command. The resulting dinners will be called Happy Meals.

Suddenly the British shellfish industry is worth crowing about. Crabby government ministers, who have previously tended to clam up, are suddenly queueing up like lorries in Dover to praise the scheme. LCD Views managed to winkle out a couple of quotes.

“This is just fantastic!” gushed Fisheries Minister Victoria Prentis, tearing herself away from the ceremonial opening of a bottle of Merlot. “The EU never saw that coming, did they?”

“I couldn’t agree more,” agreed DEFRA supremo George Eustice. “I’ve just written to them informing them that I didn’t vote for this, and that they had better jolly well sort it out!”

How will the children react when they discover langoustines for lunch? Suddenly the ministers disappeared in a puff of red, white, and blue sovereignty.

Global Britain. The world is your oyster.

CABER TOSSER : THE UK’S SYMBOLIC PRIME MINISTER, Boris Johnson, will stop at nothing to stop Boris Johnson breaking up the United Kingdom. He’s so committed to stopping it he’s assembled a crack team of people who think just like himself to come up with ideas to stop him from doing it.

The Union Unit will focus on robust responses to the SNP’s push to tear apart a Union that has endured for centuries, until Boris Johnson.

“We won’t be doing any gesture politics. This is serious business,” a source inside the Unit told LCD Views. “We’re complete units in this unit. Thumping. Throbbing. Units.”

And it’s certain that many serious and feasible ideas will be floated for how to prevent the UK breaking up, even after Brexit. Ideas such as greater devolution, federalisation of the system of governance, no longer lying, treating Scottish dissenters with respect and listening to their concerns, engaging with Nicola Sturgeon and bringing her into decisions that affect Scotland, serious investment in the economy of Scotland, gagging Jacob Rees-mogg, all will be suggested and instantly discarded.

“In favour of gesture politics,” the source clarified. “To this end we’ve put the names of the royals in a hat and pulled out the names of a pair everyone has forgotten. We’re going to force them to live in Scotland. Having completely forgotten that the Queen already does most of the time.”

But it won’t just be shuffling royal pieces about the chessboard, there are other killer plans.

“We’re going to have Boris Johnson go to Scotland and toss off. Caber toss. He’ll be wearing hi-vis tartan when he does. It’s going to be charming. But best of all he will host a televised feast for all Scottish Tories and he’ll eat a haggis. Before sneaking off to a broom cupboard with a Scottish waitress. If that doesn’t save the Union, nothing will.”

CARRY ON UP THE CABER : Once there was a little boy called Boris Johnson who had a little shop, but the little shop didn’t sell anything…

But that wasn’t because the little shop didn’t have anything inside it. Little Boris brought home all the living things he found and put them in the shop window, after killing them with his lies. He kept a fishing industry there. He kept services. He kept freedom of movement for plebs. He also kept a virus inside, and that was the one thing he kept very healthy and alive.

One day little Boris was out looking for abandoned fridges to hide in, his favourite game, when he found a sick looking little animal called “The United Kingdom”.

“Oh what jolly japes!” Boris shouted, clapping his hands in glee so hard his comb over fell over.

Little Boris picked up the sick looking animal and turned it over and over. He noticed it had a soft underbelly that was tartan covered. He pushed it. He prodded it. The little animal squealed. Little Boris squeezed it even harder.

“Oooooo! Oooooo!” the little animal cried.

Little Boris jumped up and down and ran home carrying the little animal to put it into his little shop window.

“What do you eat?” Little Boris asked the little animal.

“Sovereignty and a fair share of resources and the economy,” the little animal replied. “Empower all the parts of me, genuinely invest in me, enfranchise my people and never, ever lie, and we can live together happily ever after!”

Little Boris shrugged. He almost fell asleep listening to such a silly list of things. He smiled and squeezed the sick looking creature’s belly another time.

“I know. I’ll feed you haggis!” Little Boris cried. “But first I’ll have to go out and hunt it.”

And Little Boris got into his T45 tank, a gift from a Russian friend that he kept parked just outside, and drove away into the Scottish Highlands to shoot some dinner for his new found friend.

https://youtu.be/VQ63h85UCYY

CHEDDAR GORGEOUS: Everyone knows that the Moon is made of cheese. Interplanetary trade supremo Liz Truss has today announced a massive new deal to supply lumps of lunar loveliness to a nation of Wallaces and Gromits.

Crackers? Don’t forget them, lad! There are still, unbelievably, some people who insist on talking Britain down, who say that the plan is unfeasible. Nonsense, replies Truss. This is precisely what the Lunar Protocol is designed to overcome, and supplies of cheese are expected to flow into Britain in a suitably unfettered fashion.

Lunatic? Not at all. Truss has declared that transportation of the delicious delicacies will be easy. “You see that?” she said, pointing to the sky. Sure enough, the Moon hung there, casting its pale sheen across the negotiating table. “All the Moonians have to do is to drop the cheese over the edge of the Moon, and it will simply float down to Earth!”

Following the Science has always been one of Truss’s greatest strengths.

The Board of Trade issued the following press release, praising Truss for her unstinting efforts:

“Liz Truss, a gurning gargoyle with an unhealthy fetish for pork, like a slightly less perverted David Cameron. Prone to hyperbole, she paddles her inflatable dinghy weighed with Union Flags around the shallow waters of Albania, and claims victory for the price of a handshake.”

This was hurriedly withdrawn when the Board’s one literate member of staff read it and discovered that it contained fragments of truth. Nobody took responsibility for the withdrawn press release, so instead the Daily Express was asked to print a headline screaming “NOW THE EVIL EU IS INSULTING US!”

The Moon also renews itself every month. “This is scientific fact!” trilled Truss tunefully. “We can extract all the cheese we need, and there is a New Moon 28 days later! That’s Science, that is!”

The Man In The Moon declined to comment, as he was too busy pissing himself with laughter.

TATTERED OLD RAGS : DOWNING STREET HAVE PROVIDED MUCH NEEDED CLARIFICATION OVER THE PROPOSALS FOR HOTEL QUARANTINE IN THE U.K., after James Cleverly confused everyone this morning.

The clarification was given than no lesser a figure than the prime minister himself, after Boris Johnson found he had some spare time in his afternoon.

“I can think of no better way to spend the sudden, surprising opening in my dairy than with you good people,” Mr Johnson told reporters over Zoom. “Just think, if it hadn’t been for the abrupt cholera outbreak at the jungle gym in Croydon, I would have been down there dressed as Tarzan for a press shot, and not here with you.”

And the Croydon cholera outbreak was welcomed indeed, especially by the people of Croydon, deprived of the spectacle of Mr Johnson.

“Now, what’s on your mind folks? Alas. I only had thoughts of shouting out me Tarzan, you Jane! Anything at all. Hit me up. Arts and crafts questions especially welcome.”

But it wasn’t pointers over how to construct buses out of empty wine crates that reporters sought. It was a deeper understanding of the U.K. Gov proposals for quarantining returning travellers in hotels.

“I’m not across all of the detail, but I’ll do my best,” Mr Johnson replied. “Firstly, it’s important we give time for the friends and family of cabinet ministers to get off those tropical islands and back home to Blighty! Wouldn’t want them separated from one another unnecessarily. They may bring home gifts.”

Fair enough.

“Also, it’s important we give the coronavirus variants themselves a fair chance to get into the country, and into our communities. Evolution must be given its head! But rest assured all new mutations will be told the onus is on them to report for quarantine on the 15th February.”

World beating.

“And thirdly, but most importantly, all hotel rooms in the United Kingdom are to be fitted out with Union Jack flags on poles. This will aid people who will be doing work calls over Zoom during the quarantine period. And just in general. The days will pass, they will merge into one another, but if there’s a Union Jack flag at your back you still at least know where you are.”

The Union Jack flag, it’s everywhere these days, except on the failures of the government, on those it wouldn’t be seen dead.

CONTINENTAL DRIFT: Or when is an island not an island? Geographically challenged charlatan Grant Shapps has weighed in, incontinently. 

You can’t compare like and like. Comparisons between comparable companions are incompatible. Contrary contrarians are confused. 

This is the latest attempt to deflect cantankerous covid criticism. The logic is world beating. The UK couldn’t close its borders like Australia did, because it isn’t as big. 

Size clearly matters. Shapps insists you can’t do the same things with a small one as you can with a large one. You can’t use the same protection on a little one, one size doesn’t fit all. 

It’s indicative of how far we have fallen, that a man is going onto TV to insist that he has a little one, which is why he refused to do the deed. Little man Shapps refused to put the dick into indicative.

This limp response to a colossal cock up is the main reason that the country has been shafted by covid. No protective ring, no arms wrapped around the country, no forming a square. Now they send out nonentities like Shapps to argue over semantics. 

Australia’s antipodean neighbour, New Zealand, has also performed admirably to close its borders and keep covid out. NZ might be a better comparison size wise, which is presumably why Shapps omitted to mention it. 

It’s very odd that a government, which boasts about ending free movement of people and controlling borders, then fails to do either. 

“We’re all in it together,” Shapps said, desperately failing to gather some crumbs of reason from his disastrous statement. “No country is an island, not Australia, not England. Australia is simply too big, and England has some other countries joined on around the edges. Nobody could have foreseen this, except the foreigners, and anyway Brexit will cure covid. Fact!” 

Now that’s good news. Someone tell Dido Harding to return that £22bn now it’s no longer necessary.