Category: Governing the people

The prime minister of the United Kingdom, who has a record of doing what she says she will that’s as credible as norovirus promising a pleasant cruise on a ship, took to the stage in a London backroom earlier this evening to make a tantalising offer.

“Look, we’re all completely punch drunk on nostalgia for the good old days,” the pm told a room totally representative of the country, “and so we want to burn the modern world. You want to burn it because you don’t like hearing funny voices in public. I want to burn it because I don’t like smelling funny food when I’m walking to church on Sundays. So here’s my offer, I’ll set fire to our Wicker Man myself if everyone in the United Kingdom will just get inside with me.”

The offer, with its old world appeal (about 2000 BC) certainly set the room alight. Mostly because of the opportunity it seemed to offer to certain people in the room who wanted to see the woman burn, while setting fire to the country, and then hoped to run away while everyone else was climbing in, in order to rule the ashes.

”It’s going to play exceptionally well with the country,” a BBC reporter is likely to tweet later, “the noble self sacrifice of a leader who has delivered on the overwhelming mandate delivered by the country to burn itself to cinders. I can’t see how anyone could fail to acknowledge the nobility of the offer.”

Various prominent men were also quick to take up the offer.

”I’ll strike the bally match for her! What ho! What a hoot!” a blonde ball bag with an act told us, “and then I’ll seize the reigns of power and impregnate every young filly in the land.”

How could any of this possibly go wrong?

 

A woman who believes herself to be doing God’s work is busy this morning ignoring the message God sent her last night.

”She’s just going to carry on as if nothing bad happened yesterday,” Mr Pickering, owner of Cotton Wool R Us, which supplies ear stuffings for 10 Downing Street told us, “I know this because around 11pm last night I received a massive order of ear suitable cotton wool.”

The order, promptly delivered by courier moments after the woman received the message from on high, wasn’t the only one.

”I’m retiring to the south of France today,” tin supplier, Mr Ears, also advised, “really I am. I hope I get to stay there after the 12th of April. The order last night for a set of tin ears was so insane it was like winning the lottery.”

There were apparently also orders from ‘The All Thumbs” firm of handy equipment and ‘Cack Hands’.

”It’s a great time to be in toilet tissue too,” our economic analyst tells us, “insiders in the treasury tell me that a new battle is raging between May and the Chancellor after she insisted on an emergency fund of several billion to keep the Tory Party supplied with four ply paper during the indicative votes process.”

Is this because they’re all crapping themselves?

”Not all. The really insane ones are fine. But anyone with a brushing relationship with reality is running to talk to God on the white telephone from both ends. They know if they can’t kill Brexit themselves and fast, they’re going down the S-bend of history.”

That’s nice to know.

So what’s next for the occupant of 10 Downing Street?

”Fit her latest set of tin ears, stuff them with cotton wool and give a speech which doesn’t acknowledge last night’s historical defeat, would be my guess.”

How will the speech begin?

”The British people…”

Oh God, anyone have the number for Cotton Wool R Us?”

Movie mogul and sometime Prime Minister Theresa May has accepted, reluctantly, that Meaningful Vote 3 will not secure a box office release. After two turkeys, there is no appetite for the third episode of the franchise.

The big problem is that the storyline and the characters remain unchanged. Meaningful Vote: Los Angeles or even The Meaningful Vote Zombie Apocalypse would have more appeal. May refused to accept the outcome, with her usual lack of grace.

“All the backers, who promised to support Meaningful Vote 3, have pulled out,” she grumbled. “This sort of release hasn’t received the public acclaim it deserves, and the money launderers and dark financiers are reneging on their promises. I need those roubles to get over the line, and I refuse to accept a DVD-only release.”

Movie critic Hollie Wood gave an independent opinion. “Meaningful Vote 3 is basically the same as MV1 and MV2,” she said. “The heroine is trying to break free from what she sees as a toxic relationship. She demands a divorce, but has so many terms and conditions that her soon-to-be ex-partner despairs. She wants more than her fair share, and refuses to budge. Through the course of the movie, she is forced to compromise, and strikes a deal, which is accepted. But her family insists that the deal is unacceptable and votes her down. Everything is postponed, they all live unhappily ever after, roll credits.”

Which of the three are you describing?

“All three, that’s the problem,” replied Wood. “The original movie, The Meaningful Vote!, followed this pattern exactly. The Return of the Meaningful Vote sprinkled a little magic dust over the sub-plot involving the Irish family members, but it wasn’t much better. The Meaningful Vote Rides Again edits a bit of the stilted dialogue, but it’s essentially the same. I think that May has lost the plot, frankly.”

The Meaningful Vote Rides Again will be available some time this week. Or next week. Or never. Don’t hold your breath.

An aeroplane flying from London to Düsseldorf went missing, before turning up unexpectedly in Edinburgh. The involvement of so-called Transport Secretary Chris Grayling was suspected immediately.

“It’s about time I got a bit more hands-on with this transport malarkey,” a relieved Grayling told LCD Views’ Flights Of Fancy correspondent. “After all, how hard can it be? I got my mate Dominic Raab to help out, just in case. It was like two slapheads arguing over a comb, just like our normal Cabinet meetings!”

That’s an incredible reference to the Falklands conflict.

“What does Falklands even mean?” asked Grayling, with his characteristic vacant expression. “Don’t try to cloud the discussion with facts!”

So let us know what actually happened, then.

“Oh, it was like, it’s my turn with the map, and you have the compass,” replied Grayling. “It’s all about taking back control. We couldn’t manage to work it out, so we just pointed at a random place on the map and told them to fly there. I must say, it was an outstanding success. Nobody died! Although I did try to kick Dom up the arse, but I just ended up injuring his elbow.”

While they were squabbling, the pilot, Gaynor Thousandfeet, put the destination to a People’s Vote. 52% voted unanimously to continue to Düsseldorf, while the 48% who said, fuck it let’s hit the Royal Mile and get pissed on single malt whisky, were, naturally enough, ignored completely.

Investigations revealed that the map used was a special Brexit Edition. This shows Great Britain (with an emphasis on the south-eastern regions), surrounded by sea containing the legend “Here be monsters” in Gothic lettering.

The latest reports indicate that Thousandfeet successfully guided the aeroplane to Düsseldorf. Some of the passengers were still moaning about having to put up with German lager instead of a good Scotch.

LCD Views has great news this afternoon for people who are sick to death of the Groundhog Day at Westminster and wondering if it will ever end?

“It won’t,” our Hammer House of Horrors specialist advises, “although I could be wrong. But not today and probably not tomorrow or The Day After Tomorrow. It’s how we govern now. One party’s internal Psycho drama has replaced actual government. This is opposed by a Silent Spring absence on the other side of the house where the LOTR’s Gandalf should be.”

The reason for the merry go around move is because nothing changes at Westminster day in and day out, while outside of it everything is going to shit. They just sit there on the benches going around and around the same centre of gravity and the centre of gravity is a word salad.

“It’s probably a mistake to have a Cheers style state subsidised bar at Westminster,” our specialist muses, “because if you have a job with a gold plated pension and you can just drink as much as you like, well, what’s the motivation to not need a drink at the end of the day?

“Why get anything done? Nothing outside the bubble really matters. This is because of the fixed term parliament act, which was quite a stitch up. It’s initial design was to give David Cameron’s Tories long enough to destroy the Libdems through Nick Clegg’s naivety. But it’s basically become endless rule now. At least that’s how it seems. Especially if the other major party is committed to the same ideolgical horror show. Also, why not lie though your teeth? You’ve got the job for five years and then you cycle back into private industry with a heaving address book of government contacts to advertise.”

Good God.

“Tell me about it. But at least the power for the merry go round will be green.”

How so?

“It’s going to be powered by the screams of the entire UK and currently, they also are endless.”

Can you still hear them Clarice? Adam, Ben, Charlotte, Sheryl, Candice, Peter…actually I’m not going to individually name everyone in the UK.

 

Fantastic news for anyone concerned that the United Kingdom was about to have an outbreak of pragmatism and a less fantastical democracy today.

“We all know that Disney has just bought Rupert Murdoch’s Fox empire for $51 billion,” our Mickey Mouse Guv correspondent says, “probably because the kids were all too thick to be trusted with it? I don’t know. Anyway, he’s cashed out. He wants to spend more time moaning to Jerry about his corns,

“Well we would know, if the Mickey Mouse outfit in 10 Downing Street didn’t dominate the news day in and day out. At any case, Murdoch threw in HMG for a quid. Just to get rid of it, so he could spend more time complaining to Jerry about the quality of the soup.”

It’s not certain yet what changes, if any, the voters of the United Kingdom will notice with the change in ownership, as Disney are apparently happy with the workings of the franchise as it stands.

“You’ve the wicked witch in power already,” a Disney spokesman noted, “the sorcerer’s apprentice running about setting fire to everything that moves or is related to transport, Goofy running the health service, Pluto overseeing defence, Scrooge McDuck is the chancellor, Captain Hook is LOTO and the Mad Hatter in a blonde wig, so…you get the picture streaming live constantly through your flat screen or mobile device,

“There’s not a lot we can do to improve on the situation except turn the Palace of Westminster into a theme park? But many are saying it’s that already. We could perhaps have Aslan appear on College Green and savage some pineapple vest rent a fascists? But we’re not yet sure if we want to write a happy ending to the saga of Brexit.”

A man with a nanny who uses google translate to talk in Latin has made a solemn promise to the women of the U.K. as part of his pitch to become the United Kingdom’s next, and most unifying, prime minister.

“For too long now the precious women of our United Kingdom have been forced out of their traditional role in the home by the self serving forces of degeneratism,” the man said, “this has pushed down wages for men, resulted in a birth rate so low we have to import for…fore…non-whi…foreign…excuse me why I look up the word in Latin,

”Externi. There, I said it. Leaves a taste. At any rate, I have travelled here from the 19th Centurt today to promise that when I replace the woman who is currently our prime minister women will be freed to not go out to work anymore.”

Thid statement led to immediate, an incorrect speculation, that the man was planning to reform the tax system to make everyone millionaires.

”Oh, what a jolly jape. Of course the tax system will be inverted to make move the non-income paying tax threshold to the other end of the pyramid of wealth, the pointed bit, but I will not be freeing women in that way. God would furrow his brow if traditional family values were not the mechanism.”

Are you going to implement an economic and political policy as clearly disasterous as Brexit and cause runaway inflation?

”Only in my Russian bank account!”

Well what then?

”It’s quite simple to do. Family planning, from contraception to terminations for any reason will be abolished. All women will be legally required to become pregnant. A woman’s real place of work, is of course, in the home.”

Omne semen sanctum.

 

Nigel Farage has made his play while rumours of a governmental collapse abound. The man whose numeracy skills rival Diane Abbot’s is positioning himself as education secretary.

The People’s Vote march attracted a mere million or so people. Farage’s far more successful march drew a crowd of over 200. “You are the majority,” he told them proudly.

“Our Nige”, as we must now call this privately educated man of the people, made the claim that a further 17.4 million people were also there in spirit. “Look, can’t you see them?” he asked. Clearly, religious education is yet another forte.

Either that, or he should have gone to Specsavers.

Insiders suggest that Farage’s actual role in government could be very different. “He’s not actually an MP, so he couldn’t be in government,” pointed out analyst Enda Marope. “But there is a vacancy for a consultant policy maker. This person spends all his time pontificating in the Strangers Bar, like a posh pub bore. It’s tailor made for Nigel.”

Marope has news of other appointments up her sleeve. “Boris will move to Spaffing Money Up The Wall, Chris Grayling to All At Sea, and Michael “slithy” Gove to Jabberwocky.”

The big question though, is who will replace Theresa May as Prime Minister?

“There is only one viable candidate,” said Marope. “Keep it under your hat, will you? Please? OK. Strictly off the record, it looks like the next inhabitant of Ten Downing Street will be John Bercow.”

Nigel Farage was not happy with the news. “I have far more integrity than Bercow!” he thundered, subsidised pint in hand. “All he does is shout ‘order, order’, and subvert the will of the Man of the People. Edutainment Secretary, pah, I should have been PM. I coulda been a contender. Hardest game in the world, politics. Been doing it thirty years, man and boy…”

The future of Great Britain is in safe hands.

The scandalous news that parliament is again debating whether or not to give 16 year olds the vote has caused a justified outcry among much older, wiser people who voted to quit the EU because of a big, red bus, and their elected reps.

“It’s scandalous!” Reg Reg-Reg frothed,

“a sixteen year old is not mature enough to decide their future. Why, some of them don’t even bother to read the side of a bus when deciding what to do [regarding complex economic and social changes]. Could a 16 year old oversee the complex stockpiling of body bags and toilet paper before an entirely avoidable calamity, driven by grown ups?”

Reg Reg-Reg is not alone.

Millions of middle aged, and up, people this morning are considering starting a petition to turn back this clock too.

“Okay, they’re mature enough to decide at which university, being transformed financially along neocon ideological lines, they wish to gather £50K worth of debt at,” Reg conceded,

“They’re old enough to become an army cadet, setting themselves on a path to get blown up in some hellish conflict to celebrate being old enough to vote. They’re even old enough to have sex legally and start a family as a consequence, as ill advised as that maybe, maybe not,

“And they’re mature enough to be able to legally drive a moped, thus taking their own life in their hands on the roads, and potentially causing an accident, or not, involving people of voting age. But I’ll be buggered if you can convince me they’re mature enough to influence their immediate future at the ballot box.”

That’s only for older heads.

The sort of heads that see a big blonde man boy bouncing about in front of a lie on a big, red bus and ditch all critical facilities and vote for the bus.

“Give sixteen year olds the vote, where will it end?” Reg Reg-Reg demanded, “foetuses will be voting next. Just like what happened with equality of marriage. People started legally marrying furniture the day after. This progression of society and its values has got to stop.”

In support of Reg Reg-Reg we have included a link to the sort of nonsense sixteen year olds say about politics:

https://twitter.com/bbcquestiontime/status/1108863526406418438

Reg Reg-Reg did call LCD back later to add, sixteen year olds should be able to decide to attend a public hanging if they want.

Just as well, because many Quitters favour that.

The will of the people, you know you want it, just not until you’re old enough, as determined by a man who voted based on…

Britain’s botched Brexit negotiations have led nowhere. The EU has refused to budge a single inch, or even centimetre. Theresa May’s strength and stability have been shattered, and all that is left is her intransigence.

Leading Brexiters have suggested the perfect solution. All future negotiations will be conducted by a small girl, who has been carefully conditioned to kick off at anyone who says ‘no’ to her.

“Brussels needs to know that we are serious, and refusing to budge,” commented leading Brexiter Jacob Rees-Mogg. “Naturally one cannot volunteer one’s own daughter, since little Agrippina is a meek and well behaved child. However, it has come to one’s attention that the spawn of the lower orders tend to be as stubborn as fuck.”

The extensive selection process turned up a girl by the name of Molly Coddled. Molly, aged four, demonstrated her ability when her request for another packet of crisps was turned down. A twelve hour meltdown ensued, after which Molly was awarded the contract.

LCD Views was fortunate to be able to talk to Molly. Her mother, glad to be shot of her for a few minutes, took the opportunity to stock up on gin at the nearest off-licence.

Remember that massive meltdown, we asked.

“Yeah,” said Molly. “I was cross. I wasn’t very happy.”

What was it all about?

“Don’t know,” she said. “But I was cross, and it wasn’t fair, and mummy got angry, and that made me more cross.”

How will you deal with Michel Barnier?

“Who’s she?” asked Molly.

No, no, it’s a man.

“It’s a girl’s name,” she declared. “Why does the man have a girl’s name? That’s silly. Silly man.”

What if he offers you something you don’t want?

“I’ll throw it away of course!” said Molly. “Don’t want it. Have you got any crisps?”

No. It’s time to go home with mummy.

“BUT I DON’T WANT TO!!” screamed Molly. “NO! NO! NO! I HATE YOU! I DON’T WANT TO GO HOME WITH MUMMY, I WANT A UNICORN!”

The Incredible Sulk was eventually dragged from the room, kicking and screaming, by her harassed mother. The future of the country is in safe hands.