Category: Governing the people

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.

STRONG AND STABLE GOVERNMENT : Eye steaming pleasing news today from Whitehall that the UK’s Civil Service is to be replaced by a recording of applause at the word “Brexit”.

”We’ve had it specially recorded by a lackey of Trump’s across the pond,” ERG member and total useful idiot, Jacile Reeks-pond, MP for Carpet-on-bag, told LCD Views.

The recording, which is available on cassette tape and beeswax, will be duplicated and placed in all rooms previously occupied by those traitors that didn’t believe in Brexit enough.

”It will help make a success of Brexit,” the useless idiot MP declared, “because it really believes. Nothing is worth saving if we get to fully apply our ideas to the society. Starve the idiots who didn’t choose a good accident of birth. Deregulate the entire show. Get rid of tax. That’s the recipe for success in the new reich.”

But while the revolution in how the civil service serves will clearly save the exchequer billions and squillions, there have been critics.

”Why just one man clapping?” a thought criminal asked, “why not a mass crowd dressed in a variety of cross like symbols chanting and clapping together? This is a missed opportunity.”

That said, and ignored, it will make diplomatic cables about foreign powers much easier.

”Just applause. Good, old fashioned sycophantic, reality denying applause.”

The recording will also be available to download on all smart phones, laptops and desktops as a vinyl print, because it’s Brexit.

”If you listen really closely to the recording you can actually hear Donald Trump tweeting orders to Britain’s next prime minister in the background. Because that’s how we run our country now.”

Into the ground. For the benefit of overseas interests. Global Britain. Believe in it. Or you’ll be replaced by a recording of a man clapping, which may make paying your mortgage more difficult.

ALT COMPETENCY : The giant, career ending scandal of the enormous fraud perpetrated on the Universal Credit system has sunk without trace. Just bubbles on the surface of the sea. Thanks to Donald Trump and his affirmation of the U.K. ambassador’s assessment of him, via is multi-day Twitter tantrum.

”It’s a God send,” an imaginary source inside the DWP told LCD, “imagine if the media had the capacity to focus on more than one story at a time? We’d really be for it.”

And for it someone should be. Millions ripped out of the welfare system over months in the most blatant fashion. Brexit Britain at its finest incompetency. Grayling governance par excellence.

”Can you imagine the flames that would once have engulfed the government? Not just the ministry, but the executive too over a story of such eye wateringly poor governance? Don’t worry about looking for a lifeboat, they’re on fire too! Just jump straight into the sea!”

But no. We nerds must be absorbed by Trump.

And we must. If the ruler of our most powerful ally is upset with us, like a scared child stood before an enraged and unpredictable father, we have to focus on what he’ll do next and forget all else that’s going wrong.

”It’ll be great when it’s the Boris Trump double act,” the source continued, “day after day after day, just one giant distraction as the sink hole expands unmatched and we slide into the sea. Think of all the beautiful frauds that people will get away with? And barely a whisper in the news.”

Brexit Britain. Modern Conservative government. SNAFU. This is what we’ve allowed this country to be.

But maybe it’s not a massive story all week, as it should be, because we’ve come to expect gross incompetency in our government? It’s now the norm. SNAFU.

Perhaps it’s time we did that favourite thing of Brexiters. Imagined turning back the clock. But the land we imagine, let’s not make it one where universal incompetency is the currency of governance.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-48887753

UKSNAFU : Reassuring news from government today that a much needed technological solution is being sought for the entire U.K. government.

“It’s because if the Universal Credit fraud f*ck up,” a sober looking Chris Grayling told LCD Views tonight in an exclusive, “to be honest I welcome it. Being the omniscient spirit of governance is actually pretty tiring. I don’t know how deities do it. Imagine if I ran the universe? I’d be knackered. Although on the plus side, there wouldn’t be a universe.”

https://www.google.co.uk/amp/s/www.bbc.co.uk/news/amp/uk-48887753

The technological solution to takeover from the current set up isn’t yet invented, or is it?

”We actually think an Atari games console from the 1980’s has sufficient power to do a better job than us,” Grayling shrugged, “I mean, come on, have you seen the list of things we’ve f*cked up? It’s kinda long. The Universal Credit fraud f*ck up is just the latest in a long line of disasters.”

It’s hoped the technological solution will be identified and put in place in time for a No Deal Brexit later this year.

”Can you imagine this mob attempting to keep you fed and medicated after tearing up the entirety of our global trading relationship? Wow. The mind boggles.”

But it’s not all bad news, regarding the astronomical Universal Credit fraud f*ck up.

”You were wondering where we got all the money for the No Deal Brexit fund? Or how Farage was funding his Brexit Party? Well, I can’t say on the record, and this is probably all made up, but some of the names of benefit claimants in the fraud look more than a little made up…”

Global Britain. We do things differently now. We do them badly. Very badly. SNAFU.

SPY V WORK SHY : Downing Street has been forced into an edifying admission today concerning (what it perceived at the time) to be former Foreign Secretary Boris Johnson’s fitness for the role.

“We didn’t conceal sensitive intelligence briefings from Mister Boris, while he was in post at the FCO,” an aide to Theresa May said, “we simply placed the briefings on his desk with other boring, detailed information that required deliberation, effort and digestion.”

But sources close to Mr Johnson have hit back, labelling the confession disingenuous.

“They did put them on Boris Johnson’s desk, but they hid them in a file named ‘Work’. They knew full well there was bugger all chance of him reading them. It was clearly a carefully planned strategy to stop him blurting out half absorbed facts as inaccuracies, thus potentially endangering British subjects abroad. I guess Nazanin Zaghari-Radcliffe is a good case in point.”

Other methods used to prevent Mr Johnson seeing classified information appear to have been employed, alongside hiding the briefings on his desk, in plain sight.

“They also employed a series of blonde ladies in their twenties, positioned strategically about the corridors of the FCO. Some days he was so busy pursuing them along the marbled halls he never actually made it to his office.”

And if all else failed there was a further go to tactic.

“But if he somehow managed to bulldoze his way into the office they would have a secretary race in ahead of him and stick a post-it note on the work file.”

And what would it say.

“Your wife called. She says she saw the text messages and she insists you phone her back immediately to talk,” the source said, “you could guarantee that would see him about face and march right back out into the street.”