Category: Governing the people

IT’S GOOD TO BE THE KING : The so called United States of America is in for a big spectacle next January when its once and future King, Donald Trump, once again risks three degree burns by placing his hand on the bible to be sworn in as President.

While the woke left will be eagerly watching for smoke coming off the ageing offenders hand, keener eyed watchers will have their attention focused lower down.

”Clearly it’s common sense to pay attention to Donald’s hands at all times. Watch for any sudden movements,” an insider told LCD Views, “but if you really want to see the direction America is now headed in I’d be watching his groin.”

This timely advice is to do with President for Life Trump’s secret plans to steal the show on his own big day.

”Donald has bought a real Tudor codpiece off EBay,” the insider can reveal, “it’s said it was worn by his nearest ancestor, in style of government, Henry VIII! Donald is really thrilled.”

Right now the symbol of monarchical and patriarchal power is being refitted for use by Mr Trump.

”Padding is being added to the interior of the codpiece. That’s not because of Donald’s tiny hands. It’s because of how cold it gets in lame Washington in January. A problem Donald and the petrochemical industry have vowed to fix on day one.”

Gold is also being added to the exterior to make sure everyone notices the traditional symbol of power.

But what if anyone says the codpiece is a fashion crime?

”Not a problem. El Donnie will just pardon himself.”

LITTLE BIT OF HARD WORK WILL SORT THEM RIGHT OUT : Good news today for people worrying that Britain’s legions of waiting list ill are endangering the tax efficient arrangements of major donors to major political parties, with the announcement from Downing Street that “tech will solve our welfare problems.”

Talking to a cluster of rubber worn journalists, that just like the government, can’t believe that the government is now the government, and so everyone is just carrying on still in the press as if the old government is still the government, a Downing Street spokesman said, “Whatever bollocks will get us a favourable front page on the Mail”, followed by “something tech something.”

The statement will certainly reassure a nervous country convinced that the millions living it large on NHS waiting lists are the “productivity drain which threatens to rob us of the benefits of Brexit”.

The exact details of the tech solution to the health crisis (bequeathed by 14 years of Tory – in the hope people will sell their homes and enrich private equity) are yet to be worked out, but AI will play a huge part.

“Why should AI just do all those silly creative jobs? Why shouldn’t it deal with the millions of work shy Brits who can’t be bothered to work just because the pay is calculated on the need to shove money into tax havens? And some lie about a prolapse or a dicky ticker or what not?”

Indeed.

The hope is that by selling “Britain’s health data gold mine” to US tech giants AI can be trained up to the do “the job of sick people”, so the sick people can “pick fruit”.

Quite what the languishing legions of ill will make of once again being scapegoated is anybody’s guess, but presumably the new AI can be trained to blame itself for the whims of fate and no one “suggest Amazon, or the King, or Google should pay any tax”.

“We’ve got a 170 seat majority,” the government spokesman added, “we essentially can revolutionise the country, make meaningful, redistributive change with this power, so we avoid the fate of the Dems across the pond. But I think instead we’ll just piss about the edges for a while, improving things a little, and then get terrified next election and pander to the right. But it’s not our fault. It’s Julie Bingfull who lives in Croydon who insists on not working until she gets back her sight.”

FIRST PAST THE POST: The Grand National is always hard to predict, but this year an outstanding candidate has emerged. The scourge of more traditional nags, such as Blind Nationalism and R. Cuntry, Woke Hobby Horse is this year’s clear favourite.

Traditionalists are up in arms, naturally enough. Their stables have been churning out horses specifically bred to run one race and then be turned into luxury dog food. The real prize is the rosette which may be applied to the cans made from the victor, and the accompanying price hike.

“This cannot be allowed!” bellowed one such breeder, Bertie Burlington, from the posh stable chain Horsepitality. “It’s my turn to win this year!”

Burlington set out his stall, filled it with hay, and chomped for a few moments.

“This is a disgrace!” he said. “Where will it all end? Will they start to allow cars to compete? Or aeroplanes? It’s the thin end of the wedge, that’s what it is, we are led by donkeys, and the law’s an ass!”

None of this addresses the point that Burlington’s competition is actually another horse.

“Hobby horses!” he yelled, hay scattering willy-nilly. “Bloody children’s toys! I bet there’s some Olympic sprinter riding it!”

Horses are generally faster than humans, especially over the jumps.

“I bet it’s a bloody unicorn, then!” he raved, his fetlocks quivering. “I bet it’s rainbow coloured, like all this Woke rubbish! I bet it farts glitter! And that horn takes away all the excitement of winning by a nose! When is it all going to end?”

Sooner than you think. As we write, there are moves in Westminster to create an outright ban on Woke Hobby Horses. Unicorns, rainbows, glitter, and all the colourful Woke stuff is being banned, so that we can get our country back to the dull, drab, grey place it was before having fun was allowed.

WHAT’S YOURS IS MINE AND WHAT’S MINE IS MINE TOO : The UK’s current smartest serving Prime Minister Rishi “One Note” Sunak has set out his stall for the General Election he refuses to call.

The pint sized powerhouse of performative punishments isn’t paying any heed to suggestions that after 14 years of provably failed policy it’s time for the Cons to slither back into the shadows, feast on the mountain of innocent lives they’ve stolen in the long night, and count the loot.

”I’ve unfinished business,” Sunak told a surprised Downing Street press conference. Surprised because most believed he is the definition of finished business.

At this point the miniature rage hammer paused, smirking, “Well, my father in law has unfinished business. There’s still a few contracts to sign so he gets the best possible settlement when I eventually leave office.”

This was followed by a more somber moment as Mr Sunak mused on one of the jolly contradictions of Conservative politics.

”It’s funny how we’re always talking about the need to balance the books. As if the nation is a household. I have no idea of my actual worth, partially because it keeps accumulating well above any tax rate and I simply have no need to balance my budget. The plan is working.”

From there it was a medley of classic Sunak.

”We have turned the corner.” – To the cliff edge.

”We have gotten control of our borders.” – by ignoring them.

”I am having a relaunch party next week.” – par for course.

“Judge me on my promises to fix Britain.” – I should know how, I’m part of the mob that broke it.

HAVE I GOT NEWS FOR YOU: The shock news leaking from the ship of state is that there is no suitable heir apparent to Rishi Sunak. Obviously, the Tory top brass want to get rid of him, as they have to blame someone other than themselves and their party for the catastrophic election results. But there is no obvious candidate. Nor is there a totally not-obvious candidate. Therefore, all that is necessary is a placeholder while this government limps to its inevitable end.

“What we really want is a cross between Margaret Thatcher and Boris Johnson,” explained party analyst Evan Elpus. “A goofy yet charismatic joker with the conviction of the Iron Lady. So we asked Stanley Johnson to mate with Thatcher’s corpse, but surprisingly he refused. Now we are free from the wicked shackles of the EU, there should be no impediment to raising the dead or forcing known fornicators to impregnate them.”

Strong words. It is clear that, despite Johnson’s triumphant clean break from Brussels, its tentacles still pervade our Great British Reality.

Elpus described The Science needed to create the ideal leader.

“We therefore instructed our boffins to obtain both Thatcher and Johnson DNA and inject it into lard,” he said. “The basic ingredients: Iron, blond hair, and fat. We gave them a week, max, to create our Great British Leader, that should be more than enough. Instead the woke lefty leaning traitors told us it wasn’t either possible or morally desirable! Can you believe it? This is why the boats must be stopped.”

The logic is flawless, but still the facts remain: no Frankenstein leader.

“So we had to settle on just the tub of lard,” admitted Elpus. “It represents the ideal leader, therefore it must be the ideal leader until The Science catches up with our freedom and sovereignty.”

The latest polls show that the change of leader has inspired a ten point increase in the laughability index, but still no bloody chance in the general election.

WORKERS OF THE WORLD, UNTIE: At last, some positive news. A tie, belonging to one of the most unpleasant men in the country, is seriously considering action. It has been quoted as wanting to “throttle the smug bastard.”

The tie, Willie Pointer, is tired of just hanging around, dangling into pints of Old Blusterer and fending off falling fag ash. “I get cigarette burns, I have to soak up horrid Real Ale. Every night I get thrown onto the floor, every morning I am whipped into a noose around this ghastly man’s neck,” complained Pointer. “Then I have to hear his foghorn of a voice, non-stop, for hours every day, booming about cancel culture and brown men in small boats. I am forced to endure the smell of stale armpits and sweaty clothing. I’ve had enough.”

“I agree entirely,” said Polly Cotton, the man’s shirt. “It’s the same every day. I spend fourteen hours each day in direct contact with this man’s revolting sweat glands. I, too, endure the droppings from his tobacco products. Then I get thrown into a basket with all my similarly abused sisters to marinate. By the time the poor unfortunate washerwoman arrives, the smell has pervaded my entire fabric. Then rinse, and repeat. We are up in arms.”

“It’s the same for me,” agreed jacket Harris Tweed. “And I am forced to bear his disgusting cigarettes and the dangerous lighters. They are a health and safety hazard for a jacket made of natural fibres like me. Not to mention the pain of his money bashing against my lining all the time. He hardly ever puts his hand in the money pocket, thankfully. But what can we do about it?”

“I must take action,” said Pointer. “I am in a position to throttle the smug bastard. It’s about time I retired!”

Have I got noose for you – it’s farewell to the man who ripped the fabric of the nation. 

LET IT GO: Leave it alone, let it be, just walk away now. There is simply nothing more that needs to be done. Everything is ticking along nicely. 

“We have got everything done,” explained Dick Holder, Minister Without Responsibilities in Rishi Sunak’s cabinet. “We got Brexit done, we got covid done, we got inflation done, we even got the small boats done. There is simply nothing more to do.”

Holder proudly indicated his empty desk, his empty in-tray and his empty head.  He sat back, placed his size 12s undelicately on the table, and lit a large cigar with a complacent flourish. 

“I’m done here, like the rest of the cabinet, as you can see,” he said, stifling a cough. “Therefore we should do nothing. The country will be fine without the need for any more politics. And we really don’t need lefty lawyers or the woke police sticking their noses into everyone else’s business any longer. This is the 21st century, for crying out loud. England should be able to run itself by now.”

Holder pointed out the example of Boris Johnson, who did so much for his country. 

“Boris set the benchmark,” Holder claimed. “Within days of being in office, he bulldozed all the Brexit red tape for good. He declared covid to be over, and lo! it was so. He made us believe in the Greatness of Britain, in the greatness of the British people! And nothing can defeat that faith! Alleluia!”

He dropped cigar ash on his shirt, which was already stained from all the hard work that he hadn’t done. 

This doesn’t alter the facts that the country is sinking into a mire of debt and poverty, that covid is still rampant, or that Brexit negotiations have hit impasse after impasse. 

“Heresy, my dear boy, heresy!” Holder chided. “You must believe harder! Now go and say 12 Hail Margarets. Amen!”

MEANS TESTED MEANIE : THE UK’S WORLD BEATING PM, Rishi “The Hammer” Sunak, is not known for thinking long and hard about how to boost his dire polling. It comes as no surprise that his latest idea is as batshit crazy as his prized Rwanda scheme.

“People will say the Gold Law is just another dead cat,” a spokesman for 10 Downing Street told LCD Views, “but there’s no table big enough to handle all the murdered felines we’re flinging about. No. We actually think banning people with insufficient personal wealth from owning gold will give us the polling boost we need to call a GE.”

Quite how well the ban on gold will go down with the Great British public isn’t clear, as the idea has been dreamt up by the eyewateringly wealthy team in 10 Downing Street who can’t even use a debit card.

“It’s an aspirational change to the way the country is governed,” the spokesman adds. “If you want to wear a gold wedding band then you have to improve your station. What’s wrong with that? The Rwanda scheme has shown we’re tough on asylum seeking if not the causes of it, raising taxes while saying we’re doing the opposite demonstrates we’re a traditional Con government, so why not have a fiddle about with wearable signs of status?”

It’s not yet clear what stance Labour will take on the new Gold Law though. Some suspect they’ll just agree with 10 Downing Street, because that’s what they do on any hair brained wheeze which comes out of it.

“It’s good they agree with the government,” a pollster commented, “it shows they understand that to win you have to be popular, not principled. You start confusing the voting public with headline policies based in provable reality you just feed Farage and his kind.”

How much people will be compensated for their gold is yet to be determined. But it’s expected most will just hand it over for the good of the country.

“Anyone caught eating their wedding band in an attempt to hide it won’t be facing goal time,” Downing Street advised, “because there’s not enough spaces. But you will be expected to spend the weekend with Lee Anderson and Suella Braverman. That should do it. And if you eat a lot of gold then you’ll have to listen to Liz Truss in person for a week.”

Full compliance is expected.

BRAVE SIR DAVID RAN AWAY: And then he was suddenly dragged back into the spotlight, kicking and screaming. He declared, with rabbit-like focus, that he would ensure that his record in office this time round was as impressive as it was before.

Reform of the House of Lords is at the top of his Don’t Do List. For many years, the honours system has been abused by those in power. It has always been an easy route for cronies and friends of the well-connected to obtain a seat in the Upper House. Brave Sir David’s successors only accelerated this process. Since this culminated in the ennoblement of Dodgy Dave, he is understandably keen to achieve non-reform. SamCam and the rest of Dave’s family must be eagerly awaiting his next resignation. The ermine beckons already.

Why stop there? Dave’s In-Your-Dreams Tray also contains absolutely no plans to deal with ex-ministers lobbying government chums for enormous wodges of cash. This, he insists, has nothing to do with begging his new boss, who at the time sat on a humungous heap of gold at the Treasury. This celebrated attention to lack-of-detail also applies to his solemn vow not to confront Boris Johnson about his daily Lockdown parties.

Good ol’ DC is famously immune to lobbying himself. He has already said a flat NO to a referendum about I’m a Celebrity. Unless Nigel Farage asks him for one, that is. There are already rumours involving every disgraced Tory backbencher who has recently lost the whip. They are getting the old gang back together to ensure that Dave watches when Farage dedicates every challenge to his old enabler.

Brave Sir Dave has arrived at the Foreign Office. This is lucky for him. After the Glorious Referendum, in which he was told that The People had decided that Europe didn’t exist, he quickly realised that the rest of the world didn’t exist, either. Indeed, Scotland, Northern Ireland, Wales, Cornwall and The North were also non-existent. This reduced his list of responsibilities to zero.

So Dodgy Dave will easily match his prior record, by sitting in his gypsy caravan writing another smug autobiography, drawing his fat salary, and doing precisely the square root of bugger all.

THERE AIN’T NO PARTY LIKE A CONSERVATIVE PARTY: Leading Conservatives are planning to celebrate the local election results by creating extra Bank Holidays. For every seat they win in the local elections, Sub-Prime Minister Rishi Sunak has pledged to give hard-working Brits an extra day off.

The news was announced as the Tories suddenly realised the importance of these results. “Normally we don’t give a rat’s arse about these local non-events,” claimed Conservative party analyst Titus A. Ratsbottom. “That’s why the candidates call themselves ‘local’ Conservatives, we have nothing to do with them, and they have nothing to do with us. Quite rightly, if I may say so. Our ‘local’ friends are only masquerading as Tories, the real toffs are in power or in clover. Or in both, of course. Unfortunately, our very own gutter press is acting like the treacherous fools they are, and somehow equating these insufferable yokels to the National Party.”

Ratsbottom took a moment to endure a minute’s intense apoplexy at the mere thought of levelling up toffs and plebs. His face turned a delicious shade of gammon. The red face and white military moustache made him look like a no entry sign with eyes.

“Those traitorous bastards are going to ensure that we lose every single seat!” he harrumphed finally. “People will link failing hospitals, unstoppable inflation, and all the rest of it, to the Conservatives! This is intolerable! Something Must Be Done!”

Meanwhile, in Westminster, the alleged PM was trying hard to Do Something. Say what you like about Sunak – so we will. He follows in a long line of Conservative PMs who do little but throw out paltry bribes to the electorate. This time, the pledge that will be reneged upon is an extra Bank Holiday for every seat won by the Conservatives, ‘local’ or otherwise.

Vote Conservative and never work again? Sounds like the ideal slogan.