Category: Global Britain

The United Kingdom was in mourning today as the last known Brexit promise was reported to have died in captivity.

Brexit poacher turned gamekeeper while still poaching, Jacob Rees-mogg, is to bury the dead promise in a tearful ceremony in the Thames.

”We’ve had to hire professional mourners,” the MP for Emerging Markets told LCD Views, “as it was difficult to find anyone still credulous enough to get onto a boat with myself and Nigel now.”

Still, the ceremony is to mimic the one in which Nigel Fartage (never has been and never will be an MP) and everyone’s favourite fairy tale stepmother, Kate Goey (needs sacking Vauxhall, wake up now) paraded the promise on its capture in 2016.

”I wouldn’t say mimic, so much as mock,” Rees-mogg clarifies, “I hope it doesn’t take too long as I’m itching for another vote in the Commons to push Britain closer to Dickensian England.”

The death of ‘take back control of fishing’ is the last, following in a sad parade of extinction that began the moment the ink had dried on the EUref ballot papers in June 2016.

”We’ve killed them off one by one in as humane a manner as possible,” Jacob said, adjusting his specs and smirking, “the lower orders are so touchingly gullible, I’m amazed this farce is still going on.”

But what will you and other leading Brexiters do now the Brexit safari park is empty?

”Oh, we will start blaming the EU and the remoaners. Talk about fifth columnists and attempts to subvert the will of the British people, while attempting to avoid public inquiries resulting from the revelations of just how rigged things have become now that the Cambridge Analytica story has broken.”

This seems sensible. Sovereignty died with the Brexit White Paper, as we never lost it. The NHS funding promise died the moment the bus was parked. Control our borders was shot and butchered by the reality of physical space required, and the necessity of JIT manufacturing methods and how trade works in general in the 21st Century. Global Britain has been shown to be the imperial clothing set we knew it was. Strike new trade deals by losing all the ones we have? Who the hell ever believed that?

”Many did dear fellow,” Jacob smirked again, “It’s nice to have an electorate with so many pockets of desperation to take advantage of. And the irony, when you consider you helped create the sorry conditions to begin with. I do laugh with my chums at the club.”

I bet it’s rauccous with disdain. Strange how the last known Brexit promise was unable to keep its species alive. Lies normally beget more lies.

”Yes, quite, now do you mind, Ive got to go and waste fish in the Thames to better honour the uplifting presence of food banks.”

UKIP are reportedly on the brink of party collapse as all the racists are happy to vote Conservative again.

”It’s appalling. The British people have betrayed us,” temporary leader, Mr Someone Disgusting, told LCD Views.

”We expected to collapse in line with the United Kingdom as a whole, not in a great steaming bankrupt heap first.”

How does Mr Disgusting explain the loss of support for his party?

”It’s sabotage by the main parties. Most notably those grasping bastards the Tories, but Labour playing the race card on immigration and wages, is a stab in the back also.

They’re nicking our scripts out of convenience. We would sue for IP theft, if we could afford to. Which we can’t.”

What about Nigel Farage? Can’t he be persuaded to help out the fetid steed that has carried him so far?

”He won’t return our calls! Or if we phone him from a phone box and he picks up expecting someone from, well, overseas, calling on a burner or whatever, he pretends to be going into a tunnel and shouts “Woo! Woo!” like a steam train, then hangs up.”

What about increasing membership fees? Call it a patriotic levy?

”Most of our remaining members are potless. It’s how we convinced them to back us in the first place. That and positioning ourselves as more racist outwardly than the Tories, but not quite as bad as the BNP. You know, the respectable middle ground for British racists.”

Is there anyway we can help?

”Can you get Nigel back?”

We wouldn’t piss on Nigel if he was on fire.

”Well, claim the Tories are betraying Brexit!”

But that is Brexit. Brexit means betrayal.

”You’re trying to wind me up. I’m not biting. I left my teeth in the glass beside my bed. What do you suggest we do?”

”Maybe just ape the BNP now?”

”Show our true colours? Not just yellow and purple.”

”That’s right. Show people what you’re really like. No one is coming to help you. You’ve served your purpose mate.”

David Davis strode to the centre of the big tent in Brussels today in big floppy shoes and oversized trousers to announce a breakthrough for British and international business.

”We have fudge, fudge, fudge to give away!” he exalted the assembled crowd, twirling and holding up a tray just loaded with fudge.

He then tripped, back flipped and landed with his face in the fudge.

As he staggered and stumbled, playing the part of someone with fudge in their eyes, ringmaster Barnier circled energetically with a tiger on a leash.

The tiger was wearing a two tone tiger jacket with single market written on one flank and customs union on the other.

”I can see! Don’t worry about me!” Davis pretended to be calm, “It’s making me rather thirsty though. All this pretending I know where I am going!”

He stumbled about with his hands outstretched, as if feeling for a wall or feeling for a door.

”What are you looking for sir? Maybe I can help?” Ringmaster Barnier asked slowly and loudly.

”I’m looking for a deep and enduring, special and meaningful relationship,” Davis replied, but Barnier cut him off.

”I can be your guide.”

”You didn’t let me finish,” Davis barked, “I’m looking for a deep and enduring, special and meaningful relationship with an all expenses paid bar!”

Ha! Ha!

”Well I can help you with that too.”

Calmly Barnier lifted the tiger’s tail and placed it across one of Mr Davis’ open hands.

”Ah! A guide dog! I am saved!” David cried.

”This animal will lead you down the path, but don’t hold on for too long, or it will turn around and eat you.”

”I am not afraid! Even without the use of my eyes I can deal with a dog!”

The ringmaster doffed his top hat to the audience, who ooooed as Davis cheered his rescue.

”Take me to the nearest pub guide dog for am I parched! All this talking has me rather dizzy!”

Children in the audience, just little small and medium sized things, shouted warnings that Davis refused to hear as he followed the tiger from the rear.

Barnier circled by their side and kicked a can labelled “Irish Border” ahead of the path of Davis and the tiger.

The can spun from the kicking, beginning to fizz and smoke.

”What’s that smell?” Davis demanded of the crowd, “did someone throw a stink bomb at a blind man? You’re so very very cruel!”

A plant in the audience, not a cactus, but a middle aged woman with leather trousers and a big neck chain  (put where she sits to better orchestrate the show), shouted out,

”Just kick that can man! Kick it as far as you can!”

Davis with his big shoes flailed around.

”What can? I can’t find it?”

He carried on.

The tiger looked tenser and tenser, as one by one the audience began to give up on the show and drift for the door.

Nissan. Airbus. Fisheries. Soft fruit producers. Regulatory agencies for all manner of things. Service sector jobs. The list was rather long.

And as they exited they walked passed an old man on a tricycle pedalling slowly around the perimeter of the big tent, holding a sign saying Jobs First Brexit, and looking for a way to get in.

”Don’t leave yet!” he pleaded, “me and my crew are up next.”

“I’m sorry old chap,” they all told him the same, “this Global Britain circus has already gone on for far too long.”

Gavin Williamson MP, Defence Secretary for an unidentified country, has launched a scathing attack on some Russian guy who likes sending Russian woman to dine and play sports with important British men.

The men maybe weak through lust and avarice, or they may just be idiots.

“Who allegedly sends a bag man without a bag?” Gav fumed, struggling with an armful of silver pieces, “I can’t hide all this if I can’t keep hold of it. Allegedly.”

Allegedly.

It’s not entirely, allegedly, clear what the thirty pieces of alleged silver were for, although reports suggest it was delivered as a result of a hot lunch date with one of the aforementioned Russian women with close links to the Kremlin.

But a minister of state, a parliamentarian would never be so dumb as to get caught out with his pants down.

“It’s tacky,” Williamson said, “just because I had a little fling with a junior female employee some years back, that doesn’t mean I’m susceptible to female charms oodling my ferocious mind now I’m in control of a nuclear arsenal borrowed from America, along with the planes we need for leaky Elizabeth.”

While the full story of the £30,000 (30 pieces adjusted for inflation) pounds donated to Williamson is yet to come out, it does fit into a curious pattern for MPs of the unidentified country.

Boris Johnson and David Cameron were paid £180,000 to play tennis FFS.

A Ms Patel resigned in disgrace after being caught attempting to funnel British taxpayers money to the defence force of a foreign power. Seriously, how is she still an MP? How are any of them?

It’s makes you wonder how many more little payments for entirely innocent causes there are waiting to be revealed, as the rotten ulcer which threatens to infect the entire body politic of the U.K. with septicaemia is day by day revealed.

“I’ve got a spider on my desk,” Williamson snarled, “I’m bloody tough. I’m a mean machine. I frighten toast racks for a living.”

Good luck Gavin. You’re going to need it now you’ve lost your bottle in public.

Emboldened by Brexit like a steroidal chihuahua going at a bemused Rottweiler, Theresa May has decided to come all British Empire with Russia.

The attack on a former Russian double agent and his daughter with Novichok has drawn a red line for May. With thoughts of Thatcher and Falklands in mind, and the spirit of a WWWF wrestler called Brexit Basher, the challenge to the Russian federation must seem a welcome distraction from EU negotiations.

Something exciting like a brush with nuclear war, Cold War tensions and a good old-fashioned stand off.

And with a possible GE looming following a stalemate with Brussels, there’s nothing like a tough stand against a foreign foe to put a firework up the poll ratings.

Unfortunately this has just drawn sarcasm and derision from Moscow and not a little amusement behind the scenes.

Putin has joked bombing London would be like playing Tetris.

“We have many different shaped bombs in our arsenal. We have our blocks of empty luxury high rise flats my friends have investments in.

If we can drop them into the gaps we can leave our investments intact. This shouldn’t be a problem with our laser guidance systems.”

Theresa, however, has decided the UK won’t be playing along. The British long game will be a poker face and a bluffed hand.

* Looks down to see she holds three dog eared Uno cards *

Now, to mix things up a little, the U.K. government has called for all its pals to join in for a game of Twister, with Putin not allowed to play.

But Putin doesn’t care, he knows the future lies in video games. He puts another Bitcoin in the slot and furiously fiddles and stabs at the buttons as those coloured squares, crosses, rods and funny z-shape drop neatly into the sky line of London.

Meanwhile Donald Trump is preparing for nuclear Armageddon by challenging Kim Jong-Un to a game of Space Invaders.

The Secretary of State for Planking, Chris Grayling, was inhaled as a welcome breath of composting air last night as he dampened the chair normally reserved for Nigel Farage on BBC’s Question Time.

“I had to get out of a dinner date with a gammon sandwich for it,” Grayling told LCD Views when we interviewed him this morning,

“but it’s okay, I hired someone to hire a driver and hire a car and hire a specialist team to go buy some clingfilm and drive to the location where I was meeting the gammon and wrap it up for me.

After that they hired a helicopter and a security detail and took it to a subterranean cold storage unit in Bristol we leased at great expense for safe keeping.

The guards are still on the clock.

But I’ll keep my date unless I decide, even with sensible safeguarding measures, the bread is now a bit stale and bin it.

The taxpayer pays for all my decisions. How nice is that?”

Very nice.

Now Mr Gammon, I mean, Mr Plank, I mean, Mr Graylimb, you spoke last night about solving the hard border issues caused by Brexit, could you expand on that please?

“I have to correct you.”

How so?

“It’s the hard border issues that are being caused by the EU and their over reliance on rules based systems for dealing with complex arrangements involving multiple actors. It’s so old hat.”

I see. Good of you to explain that to me. But even with the unnecessary obstacles thrown up by the European Union, can you explain to us how the government intends to solve the external border issues?

“We won’t have any external borders. It will all be seamless. We’ve been telling you this for donkey’s years.”

But I thought taking back control of our boarders, and anyone else renting a room long or short term, was a key reason for Brexit?

“There is no reason for Brexit. Well, no good one, unless you’re a disaster capitalist who likes dressing up as a fascist for fancy dress parties and revels in the knowledge that you’re every decision is encouraging racists to slowly destroy the moral and ethical fabric of our country.”

Now I’m just confused.

“We’ve looked to the past to solve the future problems. In the past you couldn’t really control your external border and you were surrounded by enemies. We aim to recreate that atmosphere and to feel it in our very streets and homes.”

Now I’m even more confused.

“You will be as soon as you try and get into any English town or city after Brexit and find a great big f*cking wall in your way. ”

Secretary of State for Planking, Chris Grayling, thank you for your time.

The United Kingdom was feeling warm, very warm and high temp cosy today secure in the knowledge that Theresa May is going to deal with Vladimir Putin and chemical attacks on British streets.

“She’s got Boris beside her,” Vicky Pollard, political obsessive, told LCD Views, “so what could possibly go wrong? I mean whenever I hear Boris mentioned I immediately think of killer whales and baby seals. Who is tossing who about here? Ask yourself that. Who is going to lose their nerve?”

Quite what Vladimir Putin will do faced with the collective force and intellectual might of the current piece of furniture Theresa May is in charge of is anyone’s guess.

“He must be well packing it,” Vicky opines, “he’s got elections coming up in Russia soon, so the last thing he needs is a country like the UK getting upset with him. That’s not how he governs. He tries awfully hard to convince Russians everyone is their friend, they are perfectly safe and they should feel more than happy to elect someone else, should they like to.”

Measures under consideration by Theresa May to slap Russia with, should Vladimir Putin not make a fulsome apology and promise never to mess us about again include,

“Wrist slapping. Pretending we don’t want Russian money in London anymore.

Maybe even pulling our football team out of the world cup over there. That’s the big stick. To think he maybe denied the pleasure of watching the English team stagger about and then crash out of the World Cup in his own back yard? You wouldn’t want to miss that!”

Theresa May has given Putin until midnight to make his apology. In the meantime she’s going to attempt once more to work out why her cabinet has so many screws loose.

Home Secretary Amber Rudd, MP for Bottled Up, has gotten out her big ministerial paddle and slapped the Football Association around the ears today while shouting “YOU ARE NOW THE SOCCER ASSOCIATION”, repeatedly.

”It’s just one of the many tangible benefits of Brexit,” Mr Adobe Onfire, junior minister at the Home Office, told LCD Views,

“as we prepare for a future in which we bend over backwards and forwards to ensure the success of our special friend Donald’s four-four-twenty-two MAGA regime, our national institutions need to evolve.

We expect everyone, most especially the Soccer Association, to give a minimum of 110% to the many changes coming down the line. And everyone is to damn well start thanking God after every conceivable setback.”

It’s believed that by eradicating the world “football” whenever we actually mean “soccer” in our national discourse, Brexitannia will be better placed to strike trade deals that are exceptionally lucrative for the US.

”These deals can be after Brexit, or maybe even before Brexit,” Adobe says, “depending on how many active brain cells Liam Fox has on the day he’s asked to opine on the progress his department is making.”

Changes will be made to the format of soccer games too.

”Cheerleaders. An absolute bucket of them. Dancing and twirling with those little skirts and probably some branded batons.

’Starspangled Spanner’ will be sung by a celebrity before the first pitch in a soccer game.

Goals are now home runs.

And injury time is to be replaced by a drone strike on a middle eastern country.

Penalty shoot outs replaced by multi-ball shoot out bonanzas with bonus points for injuries sustained.

And of course commentary will only be given by old men on toilets tweeting aggressively. It’s got to be max entertainment with super tasty, massive hormone pumped, fried chicken breasts to eat.”

Further exciting changes are expected in other iconic British sports.

”Cricket is going to be called Crickets and games only played in quarters and there must be a winner now.

Cups of tea will be replaced by mugs of coffee, regardless of the age of the drinker (sorry octogenarians) and pavements become sidewalks. It’ll all help show we mean to let Trump do his business on us.”

LCD Views commends the swift play by the Home Secretary in best preparing the United Kingdom for independence from the tyrannical group of parliamentary democracies who for too long have conceded to all our whimsical ways.

We will say it’s a bit curious, changing foot-ball to soccer though, as it’s one word that is already descriptive, in the American way, but we commend this statement to the house anyway. We look forward to the first multi-ball, powerplay madness in the premier league, sponsored by MaxMaxMax CheeseWarehouse – They’ve got the CheeseCheeseDistractingWarCheeseBurgle for You!

The Department for Education has issued a directive today stating that the Suez Crisis is to be referred to officially from now on as the Suez Success, to prepare the United Kingdom for Brexit, from school children up.

”We wouldn’t have triumphed at Suez without the steadfast support of our American allies who rallied the UN to our cause,” S Panker, junior minister at the department said, “it’s just a shame the same can’t be said of the French.”

In addition to the correction of history which “for too long has been viewed in a negative light”, schoolchildren will also be invited to tell their teachers if their parents misunderstand modern British history.

”Say a child is told by their parents that the Suez Success was in fact a crisis, well, Brexit Britain’s government needs to hear about this so the parent can be guided gently back to the right path.”

Gentle guidance may involve unexpected trips to the dentist and time off work.

But why start with the impressionable minds of schoolchildren?

Surely it would just be better to have the BBC produce a serious of re-educational documentaries fronted by John Humphrys, and repeat them as nauseum until everyone has corrected their misunderstandings about the Suez Success?

”We at the Department for Education, working with our colleagues across government, believe it’s best to reshape young minds first.”

Whats your reasoning?

”It’s quite obvious,” S Panker said, “they’re the ones who are going to inherit the mess of the Brexit Success.”

Downing Street has burnished its reputation brighter with the world of big, medium and small businesses by announcing patriot medallions for any business which goes bust for Brexit.

“It’s exciting isn’t it?” an aide to the prime minister asked us, “aren’t you excited? Business keep sending these excitable types in to see us demanding clarity. Well, here’s a clarity bomb for you so huge, it will probably wipe out life on Mars.”

We can barely contain ourselves. We have to say.

We’re delaying production of, “Brexit recipes : updated edition now including recipes for cooking only patriotic feelings and cabbage”, so we can include an image of a patriot medallion on the cover.

“See how easy it is to get behind the flag when you have faith?” the aide asked, “If you can’t afford the ink you use to print LCD Views, which we understand is derived from Saiga antelope milk and imported from Carpathia, due to a further devaluation in sterling, and you go bust, you’ll get a shiny medallion you can wear on a ribbon that definitely won’t fray day one!”

The aide went on to say that the right ribbon was being sourced as a matter of urgency for government, as well as putting out to tender the £500M contract to determine which patriotic figure from the United Kingdom’s glorious past will be featured on the observe of the medallion.

“Definitely an English one,” the aide nodded, “I can tell you that for nothing, which is unusual, I’m normally very expensive. But if you can think of anyone not from England who has ever done anything worthwhile, I’d like to hear about it.”

So all is in hand for Brexit?

“Yes. When Nissan choose to stay, when Airbus chooses to stay, when those soft fruit producers who can’t get fruit pickers choose to stay, as everyone will choose to stay, they’ll get a medallion when they have to shutter up due to the financial calamity that will be a successful Brexit.”

Jacob Rees-mogg will present the medallions, hopefully?

“Him and Boris together. It should be a very nice ceremony. It will cost enough.”

But what about people who lose their jobs when the jobs go to the EU27 countries, or the business collapses having exhausted even payday loan lenders?

“They’ll get stickers!” the aide smiled, “we’re already handing those out now. We have been for over a year. It’s a stickers first Brexit and there is no way in hell you can tell me it isn’t worth it.”