Category: Governing the people

KANGAROO COURT : Home Office Secretary Priti Patel is wasting no time making her mark on her new patch of law and order and judge and jury.

”I want criminals to feel terror when they contemplate crime,” she declared.

Unless they’re a Tory MP?

It’s unclear if she is talking about a predetermined societal class, she’s identified in advance as criminal, or talking about people who have already proven themselves to have been criminal, so can be expected to be criminal again.

Unless they’re a disgraced Tory MP who used to be in a Ministry? Can they be presumed to be criminal again?

”They should feel terror too,” our criminal affairs analyst suggested, “with Patel running one of the most important ministries in the land.

“She’s previously argued for a return of hanging, as a deterrent. Which is encouraging to know, given how many innocent people tend to get hung. That’s a deterrent to not breaking the law? So at least if you swing it’s for something you’ve done?”

But Patel is well placed, as a minister in the party of law and order, to address matters of crime and punishment.

Tory MPs keep proving they know all about it. They keep ending up in court.

Patel herself had to resign the last time she was a minister. After it was revealed she was secretly negotiating with a foreign military.

You’d think that would end a politician’s career. Unless they’re a Tory MP.

”And of course her colleague now running education had to resign only weeks ago for leaking security council secrets to the press.”

You’d think that would have ended his political career. Good thing he’s a Tory MP.

It’s reassuring to have the ‘one rule for us and one for the rabble’ rule laid out so clear by the actions of the Conservatives running the government.

If you want crime to pay, presumably it helps to be a Tory MP?

FAILURE TO PREPARE IS PREPARING TO BREXIT : The all knowing UK government has announced it is to gratuitously waste £100m of British taxpayers money on No Deal misinformation leaflets.

“Rationing is kool kids!” a clearly baffled, blinking, maybe I’m dreaming, Mr Doom Rabbit (MP) told LCD Views, “it was swinging in the 40’s and 50’s and it’s hip daddio again today.”

But although a noble attempt to convince people that what they know they don’t know and they should just let it all wash out of their brains, it maybe a hard sell in the era of online retail.

“That’s easy,” Doom Rabbit shrugged, “no one will be able to afford to shop online, or on the high street, once we successfully crash out without a deal. The leaflets will help by teaching people how to succeed in a barter based economy. Also by encouraging you to take your kids out of school and put them to work.”

And there’s further consideration given to the hardships to come.

“If the inheritance millionaire, hedge fund loving, currency speculating, feudalist lunatics that are bringing you Brexit (ably assisted by an official opposition that thinks the Tories will break the eggs, but we’ll make the omelette!) are successful, some day to day items maybe in short supply,” Doom Rabbit added, “but we’ve thought of that. The leaflets will be edible. Don’t use them as a substitute for the vanished toilet paper supply. Not when you can make them into soup!”

Believe in Brexit and let’s make a success of it. It being queueing for food while  a cherished family member hopes that airlifted insulin arrives on time.

Global Britain. What the fcuk happened to it?

BELIEVE IN BRITAIN : The government has responded this morning to criticism that it has handed back funds intended to alleviate child poverty in the UK to the EU unspent.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/education-49131685

“If we can’t spend it on Brexit what’s the point of it?” a Downing Street spokesman shrugged, “I mean if it could have been used to pay private consultants to prepare voluminous reports for contingency planning for things we’ll never in a million years do, that would have been different.”

And furthermore, experts in the field have a bit of advice for poor kids.

“You’re not going to better yourself sponging about off foreign aid money,” Toby Agspoon esq, Tory MP for Oblivion-by-and-by, advised.

“And, besides, we waste all this money on EU officials and get nothing back! This ruins the narrative of a fair and prosperous Britain, its children’s faces gold lit by the wealth of opportunity provided by Caring Conservatism. Reach out children and seize the opportunities of Brexit! The chimney sweep’s brush! The three legged stool in the match factory! The one kidney sold, but the other one kept!”

Quite how the government could have been so incompetent as to not have spent the money is anyone’s guess.

“Because they’re a useless effing shower of a government who have no idea about alleviating poverty and couldn’t care less,” Anyone guessed. But it was a credible guess.

“Hard work will get you anywhere,” Toby Agspoon esq added, “get your nose to the grindstone. If that fails, call your dad. Take your cash back EU! We don’t need it. Our coffers are full. And besides, if belief in Britain can’t lift a child out of poverty in 21st century Britain, what will?”

Quod erat demonstrandum! The new Minister for Classical Antiquity, Jacob Rees-Mogg, wants all his staff to communicate in Latin.

[Note: For those of you who didn’t go to school with Jacob Rees-Mogg, our Latin cheat sheet is here:]

https://bestlifeonline.com/latin-phrases/

“Simplex est petitio,” explained Rees-Mogg, to LCD Views’ Victorian Values correspondent. “Oh, I suppose you went to one of those ghastly modern redbrick universities that teach abominations like science. One hears that they let you wear… jeans… trainers…” He choked on the words. “One’s staff will speak Latin and wear gowns. This country needs to reclaim its heritage!”

“It’s a bloody liberty,” moaned parliamentarian Polly Glott. “Until now, official policy with foreign languages has been to speak slowly and loudly. Now we have to learn a whole new sodding language!”

“Condemnant quo non intellegunt,” countered Rees-Mogg. “This summarises my thoughts on Europe, and, I am told, most online political discussions.”

“I hope we are going to get dedicated training on this?” asked Glott.

“Ad astra per aspera,” replied Rees-Mogg. “As with Brexit, we will all pass through difficult times, but the eventual rewards will be worth it. Carpe diem. Alea iacta est!”

“Thank you Julius Caesar,” retorted Glott. “That’s one Rubicon I’m not going to cross!”

“Oh come now, dulce periculum!” replied Rees-Mogg. “Or, in the vernacular, live a little! Audentes fortuna iuvat!”

“Boldness has nothing to do with it,” replied Glott. “When I applied for this job, was I told that fluency in Latin was essential? Of course not. Factum fieri infectum non potest, I know, but it’s bloody ridiculous!”

“You are doing very well,” said Rees-Mogg, with just a hint of sounding slightly patronising. “Aut viam inveniam aut faciam should be your motto from now on.”

“And this stupid Brexit business!” said Glott. “Creo quia absurdum est, I know, but just remember, faber est suae quisque fortunae, and qui totum vult totum perdit!”

“He who wants everything will lose everything,” mused Rees-Mogg. “Very apt, may I say. Remind me to mention that to the Prime Minister the next time we meet.”

Nullum magnum ingenium sine mixture dementia fuit. Unfortunately there is little wisdom in the current madness.

In, out, put the kettle on. That’s Brexit, Boris style. Enough of May’s deferred gratification, Johnson wants a quickie followed by a nice cup of tea.

Johnson is relying on his effervescent charm in order to get his wicked way. “I know how to talk to those European Johnnies,” he said, on his way to his seaside hols in Margate. “Buono estente, sminki pinki, Chris Waddle, Brexito rapido, give us a squeeze Louise, ethethetheth bang bang, Boutros Boutros Ghali!”

One cannot but be impressed by his total grasp of both the facts and the foreign language. Why Margate?

‘Scorchio!” he said happily.

Isn’t Wham Bam Thank You Ma’am a bit one sided?

“No, no, not at all,” replied Boris. “You know, it’s like the time when I… wibble wibble… and there was a donkey in the room!… fibble fabble… an incredible amount of cheese…wiff waff… I’m afraid I was very, very drunk.”

None of this fits together very well, but somehow it makes a coherent whole.

“It’s like a great piece of music!” crooned Boris. “Political jazz! The ebbs and the flows, the highs and the lows. Javid at the Treasury, Patel at Home, and Clam on bass. Nice!”

This is a complete contrast from May’s softly softly approach, isn’t it?

“Brexit is a lot like making love to a beautiful woman,” replied Johnson. “Lie back and think of Brussels, I say. You go in hard, get the dirty work done as quickly as possible, and pull out the moment you’re finished.”

In other words, spaff everywhere, and leave someone else to clear up the mess?

“In’t Brexit brilliant!” he replied.

Before you leave, could you sum up your first week as Prime Minister for us?

Boris paused thoughtfully, then said, “This week, I have been mostly spaffing money up the wall!”

Wham Bam Thank You Ma’am? Ooo! Suit you sir!

GOLDEN (FOOL’S) DAWN : BORIS deprattle Johnson, prime minister only for Brexiters in Britain, took to the House of Commons yesterday and signalled his intention to tear the place apart. After which he will make it anew. A modern day democratic Doctor Frankenstein. IT’S ALIVE! IT’S ALIVE!

“He’s got an exceptionally clever plan for governance,” our political analyst notes, “he’s filled his cabinet with sociopaths. And not only that, attention seeking sociopaths who it can safely be presumed all believe they should be prime minister and all hate each other. How can he not succeed?”

Such a concentration of energies in one room can only lead to a powerful experience for all concerned. No more so than in consideration of how many of them have already held a cabinet position, been disgraced and gone back to forment trouble on the back benches.

Now returned to be disgraced again. Leopards and spots and all that. We pay the cost of this vanity shitshow of power grubbing shysters. What a time to be alive.

“You’re now a bystander, like the official opposition has chosen to be by putting that next VONC on a tantric timescale,” our analyst continues, “some of you will survive, be in no doubt as the dawn of the golden age gives way to the midmorning of despair. This is before the lunch of travesties and the afternoon tea of conspiratorial electoral crime.”

But everyone will be invited to dinner. The only concern is that Hannibal Lectre is the cook. Eat your own brains now we’d advise, it’ll make what happens afterwards in Johnson’s reign easier.

Let the new golden age of Britannia begin and let it shine like only fool’s gold can.

The new cabinet has made its first, and defining, decision. In a cabinet stuffed full of Vote Leave alumni, hard-line Brexiters and swivel-eyed no deal fanatics, it’s do or die. And if the latter, it will be the fault of remainers.

LCD Views’ Charge of the Light Brigade correspondent, Arthur League-Onwards, coordinated the leaks.

“I can’t disclose the source of the leaks,” he said. “But don’t forget that unreliable, unprincipled little Vote Leave shit Dominic Cummings is now Boris’ special advisor!”

League-Onwards took us through the cabinet’s agenda. “Number one, after the welcome and Nazi salutes, was What To Do When Brexit Goes Tits Up,” he revealed. “After a minute of stunned silence, Boris himself piped up. ‘Ours not to reason why,’ he misquoted. ‘We send six hundred MPs into the valley of death, and blame remainers for the carnage.’ Well obviously there was massive applause.”

Dominic Raab was given the task of putting forward the motion, and the crayons to write it. “This resulted in considerable delay,” disclosed League-Onwards. “They had to find more crayons after he ate the first set, then Raab said he hadn’t realised that you could write with them. Boris went for a comfort break, and came back saying, ‘Motion passed! And we are all agreed that remainers are at fault? Jolly good show!’ He broke wind. ‘Wiff waff, wiff waff!’ he said. ‘Wiff, waff!’ they chorused obediently. ‘Sorry lads,’ continued Boris. ‘Forward!’ It was stirring stuff.”

Boris concluded this section by giving a rousing pep talk, according to League-Onwards. “I reckon the coke was kicking in. He said, ‘We fight the cannons of the EU with sabres!’ he said. ‘We will break through their lines, they can volley and thunder all they like, but we are British, and our can-do attitude and Blitz Spirit will see us right!’ The whole room rose as one in adulation!”

Cannons to the left, cannons to the right. There is an election in the air. How many of the six hundred will survive?

Anyone wishing to revisit their GCSE English Literature, click here: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45319/the-charge-of-the-light-brigade

There is no need to call in the experts. Boris Johnson is assembling a DIY flat-pack cabinet using the only available materials: dead wood and loose screws.

The already notorious can-do attitude is very much in evidence. Much like a thrifty man in his shed, Boris is using all the odds and ends that nobody really wants. The raw materials are riddled with rising damp, woodworm, dry rot, wet rot, bed bugs, and rust. This cabinet will be rotten to the core, and will fall apart as soon as he tries to nail it down.

As all the planks of May’s cabinet are removed, Boris is seeking to replace them with even shorter planks.

ERG members are standing by with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Jacob Rees-Mogg, with his Victorian values and schoolboy Latin, is in line to become Education Secretary. Mark Francois, whose father famously served in The War, is a shoo-in for Defence Secretary. Nadine Dorries, jungle celebrity and author, will be Culture Secretary. And Andrew Bridgen, who believes that he is automatically entitled to an Irish passport, will naturally become Foreign Secretary.

So much for the loose screws. What about the dead wood?

The cabinet will be energised by being full of has-beens. David Davis, with the intelligence of a packet of mince and a record to match, is likely to be stay-at-Home Secretary. Iain Duncan Smith, with his experience of inflicting austerity on Universal Credit claimants, should be the next Chancellor of the Exchequer. Priti Patel, with her tendency to go rogue, will be Deputy Prime Minister. And the deadest wood of all, John Redwood, is a natural to become Brexit Secretary.

Boris Johnson’s charm may hold it together like gaffer tape, but Johnson would have been better advised just to go to IKEA like his predecessor.

Kipper me capstans! Chris Grayling is getting a pizza the action. The man who brought you the shipless ferry company operating as an Italian takeaway is offering a solution to retrieving the ships captured by Iran. He is sending our top Naval officer, Captain Pugwash, to reclaim them.

“Captain Pugwash has an excellent record when it comes to dealing with pirates,” claimed Grayling. “I’ve seen all the documentaries!”

Grayling is sending a top-calibre crew with Captain Pugwash. Along with trusty stalwarts like Master Bates, Seaman Staines, and Roger the Cabin Boy, the navigator on the mission will be our very own geographer in chief, Dominic Raab.

“The Iranian pirates have seized our ships because some of the cargo wasn’t halal,” claims Grayling. “Specifically, the Hawaiian pizzas. Pugwash is tasked with retrieving the supplies of British pizzas and British pasta. We are calling the mission Operation Pirates of the Carbonara!”

The chief of the Iranian pirates is rumoured to be the well-known bigmouth Yahir Al-Ottokrap. “You hear a lot of crap about him,” remarked Grayling. “In order to deny him the publicity he so dearly craves, we have issued him with the codename of Cut-Throat Jake.”

Captain Pugwash’s ship, The Black Pig, is due to sail as soon as the risk assessment is completed. “To be honest, since Britannia waives the rules, this will be a box-ticking exercise,” said Grayling. “So the government has supplied Pugwash with plenty of pizza boxes. Ticking must be a naval term for filling them with food, I suppose.”

Grayling recognises that there are tricky waters to navigate. “I’ve given Pugwash a map!” he says. “It has a big black cross on it, labelled ‘treasure’. That should do the trick!”

Pugwash has requested further guidance. “I need to tell him which way to go,” admits Grayling. “Left or right. Or to use nautical terms, port or starboard. Well, the ship is in port, so I guess they must go starboard.”

The ship will sail from Dover, as soon as Raab finds out where it is.

Divisive, absolutist language of winners and losers is not helpful, says Theresa May in her farewell speech. Her final, desperate plea to the nation is as likely to be heeded as much as all the others were.

“I’ve lost a few things in my time,” admitted the Prime Suspect Minister. “My majority, my credibility, my party. I once lost Brexit down the back of the sofa!”

Abandoned by friends and enemies alike, only one man stood by her. “My faithful Philip,” said May, with a facsimile of warmth crossing her face, streaks of rust descending from her eyes. “I think it’s only because I hid his credit card and won’t tell him where!”

May is determined not to be branded as a loser. “Look at my achievements!” she screeched. “The hostile environment! The ‘Go home’ vans! The popular, I mean populist, touch. It was hardly my fault that so many people actually like foreigners, working with them, making friends with them, marrying them. Who knew?”

May generously shared her worries. “I am genuinely worried about the current state of British politics,” she creaks. “Too many losers have embraced politics of division, identifying enemies to blame for our problems and offering apparently easy answers. When I find out who is responsible, I’m going to get very cross indeed!”

Nostradamus May there, accurately predicting the last three years.

“I am proud of my leadership,” she grated. “When negative forces warned that where I led, none would follow, I went there anyway. I was strong, I was stable, I was stubborn. I led, nobody followed. I stood alone. That’s what great leaders do!”

May was advised to go and take a long, hard look at herself in the mirror. “That won’t help,” she quipped, her humour chip activating. “I have no reflection!”

She concluded by looking ahead to her retirement from frontline politics. “I might become an MEP,” she suggested. “Or more likely, buy a shed and write my memoirs in it!”

The working title is believed to be, How Not To Be Prime Minister.