Category: Governing the people

LCD Views has our ear to the trembling railway line of internal party politics today and can report on fury vibrating down the line in from the direction of both main parties.

“It’s important firstly to understand that we are NOT A CULT!” Abstention cult member Mr S Heap told us,

“we merely insist on total, unquestioning loyalty to the divine leader whose amazing powers will lead us all to utopia if we JUST BELIEVE HARD ENOUGH IN HIS MAGICAL POWERS!

“In spite of all evidence to the contrary and his own actions. He has not yet managed to topple the worst, most toxic and incompetent government anyone can remember, not because he wants Brexit and a massive chunk of the electorate will never back anyone who wants that, but because of a conspiracy between the MSM and the MPs the MSM hates for being against Brexit.

“It’s not because he is a follower and not a leader. And if you don’t agree with me you can f off and vote Tory. That’ll show you! That’ll show the Tories too!”

Belief is of course key to any successful political operation and Abstention members have it in spades.

“The very fact that those traitors who have been undermining our attempts to undermine them for their ideological impurity for years now are considering forming a new party just underlines why they should wait until we’re ready to deselect them. Stand still and be pushed by the people who despise you! Show your loyalty. Allow us our show trials and ideological fury! Warm your hands around the bin fires with us that herald the dawn of revolution!”

And Absention members aren’t the only ones mad at MPs who may not wait until complete economic calamity, and the associated breakdown in civil society overcome the UK (thanks to the looming success of the hard right takeover of our executive, i.e. Brexit day), before acting.

We also heard from a Leave activist who was pretty much eating his own lips off in rage at the rumours that MPs he’s been bombarding with misogynistic hate and fascist propaganda may also be considering getting out of the party under infiltration, before the complete collapse.

“They must stay in the CONservatives and wait until we drive them insane,” Mr B Iffer SHOUTED,

“only a traitor would dare to lessen the power of a power crazed executive! A government executing the designs of a far right, tax dodging, feudalist mob hell bent on turning the UK into a sweatshop tax haven, as part of the strategy to undermine peace in Europe and fracture it all back into little chunks modern day barons can squabble over,

“Leave doesn’t mean leave until we’ve finished leaving!”

And meanwhile the rest of the country waits for MPs to leap, pickaxes in hand, and start hacking up the concrete that’s been poured all over the ground inbetween Brexit and Lexit (it’s actually a tiny space of ground).

Her Majesty’s Government has moved to bring clarity to the difficult field of deportation rules today by the introduction of a simple colour chart for officials considering who to kick out of the U.K.

”We don’t want to be seen as arbitrary,” Mr A. R. Acist, aide to Prime Minister Theresa May (think of him as her conscience) told LCD Views ‘Where is my country?’ correspondent,

“so Ms May personally doodled up a chart with her own coloured pens after misunderstanding an episode of ‘Family Guy’. She then had it laminated and given to officials to use as a guide THAT MUST BE ADHERED TO AT ALL TIMES, or the official will themselves be deported.”

Under the new guidelines anyone not white will be removed from the U.K. as soon as possible.

”It’s so Theresa can sleep better at night.”

The removals will take place with as little fanfare as possible.

”There are plans to further code the white sections of the chart with the country names of EU27 nations.”

People will also be encouraged to deport themselves and be offered cash incentives to do so.

”That means they can keep some of their cash when removing themselves, rather than pay it all to the Home Office failing in their fight against their deportation.”

Isn’t there a concern the policy of getting rid of anyone who UKIP voters don’t like may make the U.K. seem a less friendly place?

”Officials are just following orders.”

Ah, like Theresa May?

”Yes. A mixture of 19th century ghosts and the devil himself tell her exactly what to do. It really is just black and white, the deportation rules, I mean.”

Chris Grayling’s deputy at the Ministry of Incompetence, Dominic Raab, has admitted that he hasn’t yet finished reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar. He has promised to try to complete it before the cut-off date of March 29th.

“I must admit, there was more to it than at first I thought,” admitted a crestfallen Raab. “I mean, who would have guessed that a little caterpillar could eat so much? No wonder there are going to be food shortages!”

Raab revealed that he also tried to read The Tale Of Mrs Tiggy-Winkle, but got bogged down in the detail. “Hedgehogs doing the ironing! Who knew?” he burbled.

Fellow members of Raab’s reading circle in Esher and Walton have been instructed not to tell Dominic the ending. Unfortunately, some of the less respectful 4-year-olds gleefully revealed the plot twist. True to form, Raab refused to believe it.

“What they are suggesting is truly magical thinking,” Raab argued. “I mean, it’s one thing to believe in unicorns, but to suggest that a caterpillar will smother itself in its own bodily excretions, only to emerge as an entirely different creature, is utterly nonsensical.”

Eminent entomologist Dr Ant Hill gave his thoughts on the matter. “The book is designed to appeal to children, and is not, scientifically speaking, wholly accurate,” said Dr Hill. “In the broadest sense, though, the sequence of events described is factually true. And please remind Mr Raab that I do not study ents. Ents are fictional creatures like unicorns!”

“Doctor Hill?” asked Raab. “What, the guy, no, woman now, isn’t it, that flies around in a blue box? It’s so hard to keep up these days.”

Mrs Raab confirmed this last point with a wistfulness suffused with a mixture of sadness and blessed relief.

As we left Raab, he was wrapping himself in a fine, silk-like substance. “I’ve no idea why I’m doing this,” he said. “But it must be done. I believe! I believe!”

Will the creepy-crawly emerge from his cocoon as a beautiful butterfly, or will he suffocate and die? You pays your money, and you chooses your Brexit metaphor.

The international bribery convention was held earlier this week, in an undisclosed location, believed to be a tax haven. The star of the show was a surprise newcomer, Theresa May. She won the evening’s top award at her very first convention ever.

May was not the only political figure present, of course. Almost every Central and South American leader was present. Many African dictators had charged an excessive figure to national expenses simply to be there. Most were competing for the Endurance award.

Notable delegates also included John Redwood, Jacob Rees-Mogg, Aaron Banks, and almost every other figure who has moved his wealth out of the UK in the last few years. They all won honorary awards in the Brexit Bandits section.

In a class of his own was Donald Trump. Trump entered himself into every single category, claiming on Twitter that he was guaranteed to win bigly.

Beside these highly disrespectful figures, the professionally disrespectful mobsters, black marketeers and pirates seemed almost respectable. None won any awards this year. Mutterings were heard about world leaders encroaching on their turf, and embezzling all the funds they normally used to bribe the judges.

May was ecstatic after the event. “I am delighted to receive international acclaim for my achievements,” she said, in that Margaret-Thatcher-meets-fingers-scraping-a-blackboard voice. “At last, the world recognises my ceaseless endeavours. I have, tonight, received an overwhelming mandate to continue with Brexit regardless of any facts or advice. And Jeremy Corbyn can go f**k himself with that fencepost he always sits on!”

Donald Trump pronounced himself “disappointed” to only win the Novice award. “It’s a WITCH HUNT!!!” he tweeted. “Crooked Hillary and the undemocratic DEMS hunted that witch who won in my place. Sad! WE MUST BUILD THE WALL AT ONCE TO STOP THIS EVIL!!!”

Just when you think this government can sink no lower, it goes and raises the bar. Bribery means bribery.

LCD Views has had a peek again into the mind of a woman who features prominently in our reporting, by virtue of rumours that say she’s the British prime minister, to see what’s uppermost on her regret list today.

“Is it creating the hostile environment?” our errand boy asks, charmingly, while loading himself up with print copies of our paper.

No. It’s not. Now get back to work!

“Is it her appalling indecision when faced with the Grenfell tragedy?” our collage creator wants to know. So naive.

Not a chance.

“Is it letting Boris Johnson singlehandedly do more to destroy the credibility of the Foreign and Commonwealth Office than letting Eden decide to create a garden in Suez?” asks our office pot plant contractor (who know we had one?!).

Not on your nellie. Although that’s somewhere on the short list. Now dust that aspidistra.

“Is it punishing the poor for being poor?” our resident mountain climber shouts down from on high.

Don’t be ridiculous. Say something that plain ignorant again and you’re fired! Mind the ledge!

“What about deporting people irrespective of place of birth purely based on a skin colour chart?” our head editor enquires.

You need more coffee mate! That’s clearly not even on the list. Although it’s clearly now government policy. To our deep and enduring shame.

“Is it regretting slashing police numbers so hard now she wants to create a police state?” Orange Searchlight puts his hat into the ring.

We have a winner. And we didn’t even know he still worked (voluntarily, like everyone) here.

A parliament of owls have launched a petition today for English speaking humans to come up with a new collective noun for them after seeing what’s happening in our own parliament.

“We were shocked,” Reginald, barn owl, 16, told LCD’s Animals feel fear correspondent. “A few of us decided to fly past your House of Commons and stop by to see how you do things. We were knocked off our perch by the goings on in that old, shiny house.”

It’s seems the wise old birds had their curiosity sparked after hearing that the collective of our brightest and best we’re debating whether or not to risk becoming a fascist, stoopid state.

“Look, we normally believe it’s best to keep out of the way of people, as best we can, excepting a bit of good natured exchange of labour for food, clearing out vermin etc, but this recent decision has our feathers properly ruffled. Have none of you seen crows making tools? If they don’t takeover by October then, actually, then you’ve no bloody hope.”

It’s believed the owls main concern is the sheer illogical nonsense of parliament’s rejection of the capacity to not willingly force the U.K. into a position of food shortages and martial law.

And their suspicion it’s only being done to pave the way, post Brexit, to massive inhuman farms being constructed by multi-national corporations who will not care for anything but excess profit.

“You need to pick a new name for us and be smart about it. You had been making so much progress in recent years and that has gone into reverse hard since 2016.

Parliament has always seemed a compliment, but now? We’d have to be daft to stick with it. Much like your Brexit, we think you’re acting like lemmings.”

LCD Views has taken time out of our frenetic schedule this morning to spend a moment with the leader of Global Britain. We’re broadcasting our conversation live, so you don’t have to.

INT    10 DOWNING STREET – DUNGEON

We stand on a floor slick with something, bodily fluids? Mental discharge? The lighting is poor, just a few flickering incandescent bulbs, and we can’t tell what we’re standing in. But we’re certain we shouldn’t have worn our new trainers.

We can hear screams in distant corridors. Toilets flush constantly.

An aproned MEDIC, wearing a face mask, rushes into view. The MEDIC holds a giant syringe. The MEDIC skids to a halt and turns to face us.

MEDIC : “Two days wrong! I told you butter wouldn’t suit the works! It was the best butter!”

The MEDIC leaves.

A GHOST enters dragging a long chain. He looks uncannily like Philip Hammond. He doesn’t face us, he just keeps dragging that chain across the floor.

GHOST (ghostly) : There’s no money left. There’s no money left. There’s no money left.

The GHOST sinks into the floor and is gone.

We turn now in a circle. We see the walls. Strange bricks. We go closer. We push our fingertip against one. It’s a little squishy. The bricks look like hunks of gammon.

We turn back and see there’s a man facing us. An old fashioned BRICKLAYER. He’s carrying a HOD. It’s piled high with gammon bricks.

BRICKLAYER : Be a sport.

LCD Views : Excuse me?

BRICKLAYER : You’re about seeing the old Maybot?

LCD Views : We don’t really need to…

BRICKLAYER : They all say that what come down here. Ha! be a diamond and take her this hod.

The BRICKLAYER shoves the hod at us. We take it. We don’t have a choice.

LCD Views : Are these bricks made of gammon?

BRICKLAYER : You are trying to understand madness with logic. (pause) Hurry along now. Don’t keep the old go home van waiting!

LCD Views : How do I find her?

BRICKLAYER : Just follow the sound of the flushing toilets.

The BRICKLAYER leaves.

The sound of flushing toilets grows louder and louder.

We leave the room, carrying the gammon hod.

Down a corridor of mirrors. So many wrong turns. So many reflections of gammon bricks. Just so much gammon.

But a door opens. It’s light inside. We enter.

INT  THE OFFICE OF THE PRIME MINISTER

THERESA MAY is very busy. She stands next to a wheelbarrow of cement. She holds a trowel. She’s busy fitting gammon bricks into the far wall. But each time she fits one, another falls out. They hit the floor with a wet smack.

In the corner a toilet constantly flushes.

CLOSE ON

A gap in the wall. See through it. On the other side are all the varied people of Europe.

THERESA MAY : Come out, damned spot! Out, I command you! One, two. OK, it’s time to do it now.

LCD Views : The bricklayer asked us to…

THERESA MAY turns to us. She looks a little manic.

THERESA MAY : Why should we be scared, when no one can lay the guilt upon us?

THERESA MAY takes the hod.

LCD Views : Ms May, why do you change your mind each and every day?

THERESA MAY pauses, gammon brick in one hand. Give it a little, loving squeeze.

THERESA MAY : I do it so my subjects do not have to. They’re not allowed to. So I do it so they don’t have to.

THERESA MAY turns back to her wall. She slaps down some cement and shoves in a gammon brick.

THERESA MAY : Go away, go away, go away.

We go, we go away. As another gammon brick hits the floor.

The Queen’s plea for The People to find common ground has been countered by Theresa May. There is no longer any common ground, she says, since fracking commenced.

Number Ten spin doctor Tori Trayter gave the official announcement to a hand-picked audience of Daily Express ‘journalists’.

“We have informed Her Majesty that all common ground has been repurposed as fracking sites,” she declared. “In addition, she has been reminded to keep her privileged, wrinkly nose out of politics, since her ancestors devolved power to the Conservative Party several hundred years ago.”

Surely, ventured one rebellious character, common ground refers to a meeting of minds?

“Nonsense!” bellowed Trayter. “Common means common. Common ground is for common people, and the common people have no business except to do and think what we tell them to. And, never forget, your job is to help make it happen.”

The journalist attempted to speak again, but Trayter cut him short.

“Common means communism!” she shrieked. “If you carry on like this, a fate worse than death awaits you – writing for The Guardian!”

LCD Views, wishing to discover the other side of the story, sent their Royalties correspondent to Sandringham. The correspondent bumped into an old lady called Liz, who was out walking some corgis.

“One is frankly disgusted,” said Liz. “One is considering whether to withdraw the Royal Assent as a protest. If one’s subjects refuse to respond to what one says, what’s the point in being the monarch? One yearns for the simpler times, when one could behead the jumped-up little squits. One wishes that one’s subjects would fall into line the moment one said, ‘Who’s Queen?’”

She sighed, and adjusted her EU-blue hat.

“What is more,” she continued, “One’s Prime Minister has informed one that prospecting for oil will commence immediately on one’s front lawn. That woman has no manners. Even that ghastly Thatcher woman had a modicum of respect. Now one must continue to exercise one’s corgis, because if one doesn’t, Boris here will spend all evening humping one’s leg while one is trying to watch Tipping Point.”

Fracked Britain, fractured Britain. It’s a fracking disgrace.

LCD Views can report on a great leap forwards for normalising electoral crime in the UK today with the tabling of a cross party amendment relating to what lives and breathes in Brexit.

The amendment, nicknamed ‘Fill the Swamp’, has been tabled jointly by Brexit supporting Tory and Labour MPs, who are gaily going about their taxpayer funded business day in and day out, while ignoring massive amounts of electoral crime.

“It’s vital that we clarify this point so political parties, and pressure groups funded by dark money from overseas, know what the goal posts are for any future moment when the British people maybe asked to vote,” Mr Fool Rorty, MP for Blinkers-on-Bonkers, told us,

“my amendment, which has backing on both sides of the house, will clarify just how much electoral crime is needed to equal ‘will of the people’?”

It’s expected speaker John Bercow will choose the amendment for debate today, after the MPs supporting it surrounded his house on all sides with catapults.

“It’s easy enough to find dead cows to fire at houses if you bother to spend a little time with a shotgun in the countryside,” Mr Rorty told us, “I can’t see any reason why the amendment, which aims to crystallise what amounts to representative democracy in a modern United Kingdom, won’t be chosen for debate.”

But even if Bercow concedes to the threat of aerial bovine attack, ‘Fill the Swamp’ is facing opposition from certain members of the ERG.

“They’re not happy with the detail,” Mr Rorty shrugs, “but when do they ever do detail? Why the hell do the BBC often announce their full name as if it has any validity at all? What evidence of them doing any research, except for how to stage a far right coup, has anyone ever seen?”

Fair questions. But what’s their issue with fill the swamp?

“Oh, they say they can’t support it unless it includes an amnesty for any elected member of the house and their backers who may, just may, be found to be implicated in electoral crime now, or in the future, once the public inquiries into what the hell happened between 2016 to now have begun.”

LCD Views has breaking news this morning about ladies who dine with the shock revelation that British prime minister Arlene Foster played an impromptu call on her underling Theresa May last Friday night.

”It’s believed Theresa had just gotten cosy by the roaring fire at Chequers, to discuss a cunning plan with Mr May, to do with how PM announcements impact on currency fluctuations on the exchanges, and who should and should not be possibly privy to when the speeches will be made, in order to call yourself a healthy democracy. when there was a knock at the door.”

The knock was from the hardened knuckles of one of Northern Ireland’s more puritanical British subjects, and her husband.

”They brought some other people along too. It was set to be quite the unplanned party.”

Ms May was said to be somewhat flustered as her cunning plan for the evening fell apart.

”You think she’d be used to that by now. Every cunning plan she puts into action falls apart. She only keeps her job because no one else wants it until she’s delivered the pay off. And then she’ll be hung out to dry faster than a wet pair of nun’s knickers.”

It must be hard to know which way to turn some days for Ms May. Does she work for Rupert Murdoch still? Or is it now the DUP? Or do they have the office of PM on a timeshare?

So what happened?

”The DUP Whiteadders came in and the Downing Street Blackadders sat them down to dinner. It was a little frosty to start, but once conversation turned to burying evidence of massive data crimes, and hiding sources of dark money, the atmosphere soon become positively chummy. To these characters that sort of chat is like extra strong alcohol.”

And what did they dine on?

”A giant British turnip shaped exactly like a thingy. Ms May’s dog’s body, Rory Stewart, had spent all their money on it!”

Which, when you think about it, is exactly what the U.K. is doing to achieve Brexit.

“Yes. Allowing the government to spend every last penny we have on a giant vegetable in the shape of a willy! What are we like?”