Category: Governing the people

The United Kingdom’s penultimate Chancellor of the Exchequer, Phillip Hammond, has announced he is to take a novel approach to the delivery of his last budget, before he scarpers like the rest of this insane, gutless and deluded cabinet, upon the delivery of Brexit.

”I have spent hours scribbling sums on the back of fag packets left over from David Davis’ time as Wrexit Secretary, but alas, there is absolutely no chance of making a coherent noserag budget with Brexit looming,” he will tell the house, while wearing a stove pipe hat with black lace trimming, the better to appear the undertaker, “which is a little perplexing, as whenever Davis wrote on them he was convinced of his own genius.”

So what has Hammond decided to do to make the books balance?

”I even consulted modern monetary theory, but the thought of leaving a penny in the economy that I, as a modern conservative chancellor could screw out, preferably off poor people, was enough to make my blood run even colder than it already does. To solve this impasse I have decided to read out all of James Joyce’s classic post modern, psychoanalytic reaction to evolving understandings of human psychology in a machine age, and so I will be reading ‘Ulysses’ out in full, as it makes a lot more sense than trying to compile a Brexit budget.”

He will then pause dramatically and begin.

”Sing, goddess, the anger of stately, plump Buck Achilles, son Achilleus
who came from St Troyhead, and its devastation plumps buxom woebetide the ground, which put pains thousandfold upon the Brexitannians,
hurled in their multitudes to the house of Tax Evasion strong souls
of heroes, but gave their bodies to be the delicate feasting
of xenophobes, of all birds, and the will of Daedalus was accomplished
since that time when first there stood in division of knickers, [only Ken Clarke is expected to realise the error in Hammond’s composition] turnips, parsley’s and commemorative fifty pence coins.”

“Thanks, old chap,” May will cry briskly, when Hammond is complete, “That will do nicely. Switch off the current, will you? Before the DUP realise what’s up?”

You can almost taste it? Can’t you?

The government’s very own drugs minister, Victoria Atkins, has revealed a conflict of interests. Victoria’s secret is out. She is married, handily, to a drug dealer.

The revelation came when she was asked about the government’s drug taking policy. “I ain’t sayin’ nuffin about dat, bruv,” she replied. “Da big man don’t want nobody treadin’ on his turf, know what I mean, innit fam.”

The Speaker glanced up from his lines of white powder to reprimand her for using unparliamentary language, before remarking, “F*ck me, Vix, this shit is the dog’s bollocks!”

Further questioning revealed that what Atkins meant was that she was unable to comment, because it might damage her drug dealing husband’s core business. The suspicion remains that she is distributing some of his supplies.

“Why do you think she got the job?” declared fellow MP Filly Buster. “She’s shagging the biggest dealer in London! Everyone goes to Vix when they want a pick-me-up.”

Buster reveals that Atkins distributes uppers, downers, inners, outers, and shake-it-all-abouters.

Hallucinogenics are also popular. “Mind-altering drugs have been de rigeur in the Cabinet for years,” reveals Buster. “How do you think Brexit got off the ground? Everyone was off their tits. Hard drugs for a hard Brexit. Drugs are the only reason Theresa May manages to survive Brexit negotiations!”

It also explains why nobody has got it together enough to mount a leadership challenge. “I could quit any time,” May claims. “If I wanted to.”

“Look at the evidence!” shouts Buster. “Certain, erm, substances make you brash and overconfident. Look at Liam Fox. Listen to the gibberish spouted by Boris Johnson. The entire ERG is permanently wasted, and Jacob Rees-Mogg insists on a gentleman in an early Victorian doctor’s attire to dispense his laudanum.”

This honesty could be a shot in the arm for a floundering government. Drugs for the many, not the few, is the message.

After all, we could all use a bit of help to get us through the next few years.

News today on the menu the United Kingdom’s governing party is working its way through and it’s quite a feast.

”We’re eating ourselves alive clearly,” David Davis, former cabinet sous chef agreed, “Once we’ve hacked each other to pieces, roasted our limbs over an open fire made of furniture in the cabinet office, basted all that with a slurry made out of leaves from the magic money tree mixed with the liquified aspirations of millions, eaten the lot while belching loudly and singing ‘Rule Britannia’, then whoever is left standing is going on to the next course.”

And the next course is the Labour Party?

”Ha! Not while old Corbyn keeps saying ‘we’re leaving the EU’, no, he’s the one supplying the root vegetables for the feast, grown in his own allotment. We’re doing the meat. Fat of the land.”

Then who?

”All of you of course! Automotive sector, you’re a tasty dish. The rules say the crockery has to be smashed after the course is eaten. So too aerospace and pharmaceuticals. The NHS, and any business really that can’t exist as a rag and bone operation. Gobble. Gobble. Yum.”

But what about financial services? Are you chowing down on those too? Say in between a round of further cuts to welfare allowance and eligibility?”

”Ooo, don’t worry about financial services, most of them will just run off and stay in the category of diners. Which is good as we need them to supply the take-away bags.”

So who is going to clean up after you’ve finished gorging yourself on the country?

”Anyone who has shorted the pound of course! They’ll count their earnings as they wipe their lips and look for dessert. Those dishes are your rights. Those are finger licking good.”

Well, maybe once you’ve eaten yourselves alive you’ll be too stuffed to dine on the rest of us.

”Ha! We’re just wetting our appetites right now. We’re the entree. Sixty five million people and more, your wealth and your rights, they are the main course.”

Bon appetit.

LCD Views has exciting news for informed voters concerned about who will insult their intelligence after Brexit with the announcement that struggling, jobbing, multi-millionaire actor Michael Caine is to deliver the inaugural Brexit sermon, on the mount, dressed as Elizabeth 1st. This will help Britons HOLD FAST as we HUNGRILY CARVE A NEW AND EXCITING FUTURE OUT OF THE BALSA WOOD OF INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS.

“I’ve been preparing for this role since yesterday morning,” Mr Caine told an effervescent John Humphrys, during an interview on BBC R4 flag-up-pole, light entertainment programme ‘Today’,

“yeah, maybe it was the day before yesterday? When did I have that tomato soup? You know the one I had with white bread? Not the sourdough, ghastly foreign tasting stuff, can’t stand it myself,

“Anyway, long enough to know that it’s good to be poor. Virtuous you see. Alfie was virtuous like. A man’s man too. You know the kind. And Britons are naturally virtuous and ONCE WE’RE FREE OF THE TYRANNICAL GRIP OF BRUSSELS WE CAN HAVE ALL THE VIRTUE WE CAN EAT. IT’S BETTER TO DIE STARVING IN THE GUTTER HAVING WATCHED YOUR KIDS FUTURES TURN TO DUST THAN HAVE A VOTE IN BRUSSELS.”

THE LAPSE INTO FULL CAPS LOCK GAMMON BY MICKEY…sorry… our printing press caps lock was stuck…the solid support for the national project from one of the UK’s best loved old, white, male millionaires is timely as Brexit does look like it could do with a dose of viagra.

Mr Caine was good enough to give Mr Humphrys a few snippets of what his sermon will be like.

“Of course I’ll be dressed as Elizabeth 1st,” Mr Caine revealed, “on a horse. Tilbury speech to the cheesemakers. You know the one. When we saved cheddar from the French? Cracking victory. British exceptionalism at its exceptionalist.”

But what will the sermon be?

“I’ll be mixing in a bit of the old gospel. Blessed are the tax exiles, for their children shall dine on the meek. Blessed are they that mourn the brains rotting in old age of John Cleese, Roger Daltrey and that cheeky chap who played Alfie, for they have truly lost their stars. And once I’ve done that I’ll round it off with Elizabethan chatter,

“I know I have the bank account of a filthy rich old man, but I have the political views of complete fcuking gammon. That sort of stuff. It’ll show the cheese eating surrender monkeys what they’re up against. Just like in 1066.”

Nadine Dorries, powerbroker for the stars of politics, has met the 1922 committee this afternoon to table David Davis’s demands before he’ll let the Tories make him Britain’s laziest prime minister.

”Zero hours contract,” Nadine threw down the gauntlet, tripped over it, spun in a circle, before landing on her backside, “and a RAF plane on standby to fly David to a 24hour bar 24:7. Also a luxury flat next to every pub in England, just in case he’s too trollied to be flown home after a gruelling day lifting pints.”

Runours have been growing like the mass fiddling of employment statistics lately of a push to replace hardworking Beta Brexit PM Theresa May with a work shy blowhard, in order to help make a success of Brexit.

”The tyrannical EU has met its match in Davis,” Nadine continued (on Twitter), “his SAS training is why he quit as Secretary of State for Exiting the EU after two years and a total of fcuk all work. But full pay, benefits and all the perks of someone actually doing the job. By quitting he’s tricked Barnier into letting his guard down. Those garlic loving fools think it’ll be easy to crush the U.K. now, but wait to see the looks on their faces when David emerges in camo paint from 10 Downing Street with a broken beer bottle in each hand.”

What May can do to stop the coup within the coup and keep Davis at bay is anyone’s guess. But we suggest rapid legislation to tie a Prime Minister’s salary to hours worked on a pro rata basis would probably see off David Davis.

LCD Views has the results just in from a shock poll conducted by all major British news outlets which has revealed that a record number of Brits now envy the Irish.

“Britons want their [Irish] government,” poll-meister Professor North, of North and South University (they have campuses at both John O’ Groats and Lands End),

“which is a bit of a surprise as polls from as recently as the 22 June 2016 showed a record number of Brits didn’t even realise Ireland had a government, they just assumed, well, they didn’t really think about it much. Dublin equals Guinness, that was about it. Oh, and leprechauns of course. Maybe a bit of Riverdance if the knowledge is broader than usual. But that’s been standard behaviour for an overwhelming majority of Britons (roughly 52%) and the rest of the colonised world for decades. A lot don’t even realise they don’t still control most of the world, as evidenced by expectations for how things will play out after Brexit.”

But it seems the manner in which the Irish government has been dealing with Brexit has changed opinions all the way from “whaa?” over to “emerald green with envy”.

“The Irish have been all grown up and getting prepared and helping people out and leveraging their alliances and actually concerned about the GFA and all that means. It’s basically shown up what a shambles Westminster is now it’s run by a hard right coup with a hard left one hanging about the edges hoping to take over. This has made people jealous. This has changed attitudes.”

And the change in attitude is likely to have an impact immediately on the Republic of Ireland itself.

“There’s already a tsunami of applications for Irish passports from famous shoe in Irishmen like Andrew Bridgen MP,” Professor North went on, “and also about 160,000 regular and sane people who want to continue to enjoy freedom of movement in the European family after Brexit, but don’t have a spare million sitting about to buy a Maltese passport, but they did once know someone who owned an Irish Setter.”

But surely it would just be better to close down the House of Commons at Westminster and apply for direct rule from Ireland?

“That would clearly work in everyone’s favour. Maybe easier though just to set up a system where sane and progressive Brits can be formerly adopted by Irish families until such time as the government of the United Kingdom ceases to be an incompetent, xenophobic shit show. I suggest we put it to a vote.”

LCD Views has another exclusive today with the announcement that Britain’s greatest former prime minister, Dave ‘trotters’ Cameron, has opened a halfway house in France specifically for cabinet ministers fleeing Brexit.

“As soon as that clock hits eleven pm on the twenty ninth of March next year, they’ll all be off like cockroaches fleeing a sudden bright light,” Dave told us, while stood out front of the modest chalet he’s turned into a refuge for old friends, “and they’ll need all the cracks and crannies to squeeze into they can find.”

We can’t reveal the exact location of the house for fleeing cabinet ministers, as Dave doesn’t want it overwhelmed with expats seeking autographs, but we can reveal the name.

“Trotters, of course!” a beaming Dave said, “if you’re opening an establishment that you hope to leverage appeal for with your personal brand, well, you’ve got to pick a name that resonates and makes people imagine you.”

But is it just Tories that will be welcome to hide out, or is Dave willing to welcome former parliamentary colleagues from across the lower house?

“No SNP, that’s bloody obvious. Clegg has half a chance, now he’s decided to tarnish his own brand rebuild by getting fruity about freedom of movement. It’d be nice if he dropped by, it would really cheer the Tories hiding out up. We can reminisce about stitching him up and just how wide eyed and naive he was. Corbyn is clearly welcome. He doesn’t want to be PM anyway, he just wants to get the old disaster socialist project over the line. Take power out of the chaos and hand the reigns over to McDonnell. You see what McDonnell does with Henry VIII powers! Wow! Brexit isn’t going to happen unless they stay steadfastly committed to it, if they act like HMG’s loyal opposition the whole house of cards could collapse, no, they need to appear to sit on the largest fence post ever built, while never, ever mentioning all the criminality and political interference in the post-ref police enquiries. May and the old commies make quite a team!”

And how will former MPs and cabinet ministers pass the time, while waiting to hear the public investigations are all in the long grass and they can go home?

“We’re going to ride pigs. That’s well wicked fun. We’ll all do our Enoch Powell impersonations to entertain passing kids. Foot races clearly. You saw how fast I moved on the 24th June 2016? Knowing I had totally screwed the pooch! I’d be surprised if even David Davis can run faster them me.”

Screwing the pooch? That sounds like a game you and your mates could play.

“Don’t be silly. We’re trotters not woofers. Now, if you don’t mind me I’ve got to stare at a pile of blank pages I promised to turn into a memoir.”

How’s that coming along?

“You try writing a memoir that ends in complete and utter failure and come back and ask again.”

Well, at least Trotters is certain to be a roaring success!

“It’s odds on. I’m having hoodies made with the Conservative Party logo, the burning tree on them. That way, when I shout ‘hug a hoodie’ no one will get sick in their mouth when they do it.”

Good luck Dave!

“Catch me if you can!”

The government has some timely advice for anxious middle class families considering stockpiling food in preparation for a No Deal Brexit.

”Don’t,” Dominic Raab, Secretary of State for Seeing Through Criminal Conspiracies, told LCD Views, “why waste precious pounds on pot noddles when you should be arming yourself to the teeth instead?”

The call to arms issued by the Secretary of State, has been echoed by cabinet colleagues.

”I’ve been practising horse riding on a giant stag,” Sajid Javid told us also, “and I’ve bought a replica cavalry lance. Clearly I will have all the protection I need when the food rioting really gets exciting, being Home Secretary, but I might like to run through a few hoodies just for the thrill of it.”

Andrea Leadsom was next up.

”I purchased this sawn off shotgun down a back street near Waltamstow Market. I even got the old geezer who sold it to me to throw in some additional boxes of rounds by threatening to have him arrested. Clearly as a cabinet minister I’ll have all the protection I need when cars start burning in the streets, but I have natural maternal instincts. I’ll be protecting my family myself, if only for the sheer fun of it.”

But what are middle class families to do, who may not even now have the spare money for arms and ammunition? How are they to stop the poor streaming down from the estates to loot their larders?

”They should have thrown themselves more vigorously behind the bedroom tax and other measures designed to drive the undesirable classes out of built up areas,” Matt Handcock shrugged, “I would suggest they buy a home defence app. Cyberdine Systems have some amazing class based home defence, smart phone, web based home protection measures. I’ve been flying around the world testing them all out instead of preparing for the looming NHS winter crisis.”

But what if the Russians hack the hell out of our internet just after Brexit and make such applications inoperable?

”Well, you better spend your time sharpening some stakes. When the food queues realise there isn’t any food left, it’s going to get ugly. Fat lot of good a house full of pot noodles is going to do you when they smash in your front door with an axe.”

So there we are. When choosing how to prepare for a no deal Brexit, the best advice is clearly to be prepared to fight.

”Or flight,” Matt adds, “which is what every single MP from across the parties that are bringing you this completely avoidable catastrophe will do.”

These days you can’t move for Boris Johnson opening his mouth about something or other, but his latest outburst is an odd one even by his standards.

His latest tirade has been against the month of May, saying it should not share its name with, in his words, “the most incompetent prime minister this party has ever had.”

“It’s ridiculous,” he said. “Why should she of all people have a whole month with her name on it? She doesn’t deserve that!”

Jacob Rees-Mogg too has backed this claim to rename the month. His suggestion is for it to be renamed Mogg, “simply because it’s another short name with the same initial letter.”

Theresa May herself has criticised the idea, saying,

“The month of May has been so named for centuries. The fact that it is also my surname is ultimately a coincidence. But really, it is the most strong and stable month, so it is very appropriate really.”

A compromise option has been suggested by Jeremy Corbyn, namely that of swapping it around with April so that April Fools day is now May Fools Day. This idea was met with criticism, in that switching a couple of month names over would be pointless. After this he revised his suggestion to adding a May Fools Day on either March 29th or June 23rd.

Of course we could have both, but give them different names. Call March 29th May Fools Day, and June 23rd Cameron Fools Day. That could work.

Her Majesty’s Government, which governs without majesty but with a pathological addiction to cruelty in governance, has been forced today to push its newest minister out across the country’s radio and TV shows to deny something.

”I deny it categorically,” Mrs Push-Me-Pull-You, MP for Scat-on-Plates, told a credulous John Humphrys, “At no point has Downing Street created a Ministry for Denying Reality.”

Mr Humphrys could be heard nodding along, comfortable in the cerebral cholesterol cotton wool of confirmed bias and great age (of the kind which need bother not with inquiries that may confront preconceived notions).

”But has any other street created a Minister for Denying Reality?” Humphrys asked, slowly, “I have an A to Z somewhere, I can check.”

The Secretary of State for Denying Reality simply shrugged, which was transmitted by the BBC to a grateful nation, by way of a pre-recording of doves cooing.

”So that’s that then, at no point has HMG created a Ministry for Denying Reality.”

”I wouldn’t be doing my job if I confirmed it. So you’re correct John,” The Secretary of State for Denying Reality confirmed, “and if any journalist proves otherwise we trust our good Lexiter friends on the Labour benches to blame it on Blair, Brown, the Libdems and presumably that hippy from the Green Party. She’s getting too popular. Although I will add in a professional capacity, I deny she even exists.”

It was an important clarification. Also the additional denials that £500M a week is now being spent on the denial of reality, and that thousands of civil servants have been recruited to work in the ministry, instead of a more worthy cause like curing homelessness. Hired purely based on whether or not a mirror fogs when held close to their mouth.

Mr Humphrys then thanked the minister.

”I deny this interview even took place,” the minister replied.

”Next up I’ll be shouting we have to wrap up this interview with Lord Adonis, the moment it begins, while simultaneously screaming remoaner at him for balance,” John purred, and his producer Ms Sands gave him a pat on the back.