Category: Governing the people

The Storm Shadow cruise missiles used in the Syrian air strikes contain a secret weapon. The warheads contain a highly explosive substance, which the UK has been stockpiling for many years. This substance is highly concentrated consciences of MPs.

Parliamentary debate was once at the heart of the UK’s democracy. Heated arguments, fuelled by beliefs and conscience, would determine and refine policy. No longer. It is as if Parliament itself has been turned over to the private sector, whose only responsibilities are to stay in power and to make as much money as possible.

In exchange for this opportunity, compliant MPs are requested to surrender their consciences. Disappointingly, a majority have opted to do this.

Whistleblower Tess Tifye explained how the whole process works.

“It’s made out to be smoke and mirrors,” said Miss Tifye. “But the reality is quite simple. New MPs are ushered into a dungeon in the Tower of London. They are told that it is an initiation ceremony. Of course, most of them are ex-Public Schoolboys and accept this without question.”

They are then asked a series of leading questions, designed to entrap all but the most wary. An offer is then made, and the MP has to choose between feathering his nest, or a life of honest toil. Deal or No Deal?

“If you choose the former, which most do, then you must surrender your conscience then and there,” Miss Tifye clarified. “The questioner, Sir Nicholas Something or other, has been doing this job for as long as anyone can remember. MPs fondly refer to him as ‘Old Nick’.”

So what does Old Nick do with the consciences?

“He leaves them to mature,” said Miss Tifye. “The longer, the better. The conflict between the MP’s dereliction of duty and sense of right increases over time. They can explode at any time, but they work best when focussed upon a scapegoat. This makes them the perfect warheads for missiles.”

The best part is that the consciences may be used again and again. An MP may request the return of his conscience, of course, but in exchange must surrender what remains of his credibility.

Housing Minister Dominic Raab has blamed the affordable homes crisis on migrants. His figures suggest that immigration has caused a 20% price hike over 25 years.

Raab is writing to the Migration Advisory Committee, instructing it to advise migrants to clear off. This, he believes, will give proper ethnic Brits a fair shot at the housing market.

LCD’s Paradoxical Positions correspondent took time out from Brexit matters to engage in a Q&A with Mr Raab.

LCD: Tell me, why are you presenting housing price rises as bad news? Normally it indicates a healthy economy.

DR: It’s the wrong type of price rise. It has been caused by migrants flooding the country, and greater demand pushes prices up. Migrants are bad.

LCD: Migrants are portrayed as coming here to scrounge off the taxpayer and drain our public services. How does this create demand in the house buying sector?

DR: They take jobs from the native Britons and buy their houses, rather than building their own. Mud huts, or whatever they prefer.

LCD: Explain how they simultaneously scrounge off the taxpayer and take our jobs.

DR: Let me be quite clear. We are at breaking point. Some get jobs, many scrounge, while genuine British people are unemployed.

LCD: All the figures show that migrants make a positive net contribution to the economy.

DR: And they force native Brits out of work. We need to take back control of the situation, close the borders and make sure there are British jobs for British workers.

LCD: How does that affect yourself? After all, you are the son of a Jewish immigrant, and married to a Brazilian woman.

DR: We are fine, because we are rich and important.

LCD: Taking two jobs which could be done by genuine Brits? You mean, because you are white?

DR: I am on record for being against positive discrimination, and in favour of meritocracy. There are good migrants and bad migrants, that is why we need border controls.

LCD: You are also on record for saying the British are the worst idlers in the world. How are they going to replace all the hard-working foreign workers who currently keep the country afloat?

DR: Universal Credit means work or starve. Possibly both. It’s another Brexit dividend.

Migrants come to this country, work, buy houses, and fit in. Like Dominic Raab. It’s just not good enough.

Housing minister Dominic Rabbit is to fix the housing crisis by pledging government assistance to diversify the money laundering business.

”Money laundering is a cornerstone of the financial services offered by the United Kingdom,” Mr Rabbit is to tell journalists later today, while holding a shovel and a brown paper bag.

”For too many years now young people have been pushed off the ladder by our eagerness from the top down to assist wealthy people to legitimise kleptocratic wealth by investing in our capital’s booming housing market,” he will say, “well I pledge to you today that we are gonna my to find other ways to legitimise the ill gotten cash.”

It’s thought the flow of money into London from individuals who are unable to trust a stable rule of law in their home countries has been, “a rich seam we’ve mined the arse out of for decades, but now the political cost of this you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours is becoming apparent.”

So what’s to be done?

”Clearly your human centred Conservative government will seek to deflect the blame for the crisis onto immigrants,” Mr Rabbit will go on appallingly, “that’s just standard government policy now. But other measures need to be taken.”

It’s felt extending the bedroom tax to the rooms adult children are occupying in their parent’s privately owned homes will be part of the package.

”That will distract everyone very nicely with campaigns to stop it.”

But as to where the money will go that is being warehoused in empty flats?

”Into a state sponsored chain of actual laundromats that will run at a loss,” Mr Rabbit will beam, “oh and pizza parlours. Good old fashioned solutions for today’s problems.”

So this will make home ownership and renting more affordable?

”Only until the next election.” Mr Rabbit will wink, “we are a party of landlords after all. We need to look after our chums or who will fund us?”

Amber Rudd was back in offensive mode as she announced the Home Office’s new user pays police service will slash crime statistics.

”The major problem is not the dramatic cut to front line police officers,” Ms Rudd told a ragged collection of MSM journalists this morning, including our own disheveled crime correspondent, Gary, “the problem is the reporting of crime. This has caused statistics to surge in a way that my department views as almost criminal.”

But she isn’t going to take it anymore.

”We will shortly be releasing a new technological breakthrough in crime reporting prevention,” Ms Rudd beamed, proudly pulling a string to part a curtain behind her, “just look at the force behind me and know fear. Criminals should worry too.”

Gary reports an awe inspiring sight.

”The curtain failed to part fully, leading Ms Rudd to stand increasingly motionless for almost a minute,” he reports, “finally she turned and attempted to physically pull the curtains apart.”

But this also failed. She then gripped one side and tugged forcefully.

”The curtain dropped to the floor in a heap and in the shadows behind a pair of electric eyes ebbed and flowed.”

Next was the sound of numerous motors whirring in the joints of the crime fighting revolution and the machine stepped forward.

What is said should strike fear into the heart’s of statisticians everywhere.

”For just fifty pounds a sentence I will record your crime,” Robocop offered, “have you suffered in a way that brings cuts to policing into stark relief? For just fifty pounds a sentence I will record your crime.”

Amber Rudd beamed proudly.

”I expect with our new user pays crime recording prevention innovation, you will read rather different headlines going forward.”

Saint Jeremy Corbyn’s supporters have fallen hook, line and sinker for the Tory government plot to keep the novichok story playing.

”It’s like shooting fish in a barrel,” Boris Johnson MP told LCD Views while hiding in our office from his wife, “the people who back Jezza are like the people who still back Brexit. It’s a faith based position. No wrong thought allowed. I don’t still back Brexit by the way, but I’m kinda nailed to the cross on that one, for now.”

Mr Johnson goes on to explain, while ducking down under the window, that,

”I’m unsackable. Think of all the ghastly crap I’ve done just since becoming Secretary of State for making the U.K. look ridiculous?”

We do. Constantly.

”I’ll leave post when I think it’s time to knife the Maybot in the back, chest, face and wherever else I fancy when I make my final bid to be PM.”

This depends on how you gauge Rees-Mogg?

”Correct. Fantabulous.”

So you cant be sacked by May if Porton Down contradicts some definitive statements of yours over the Skripal case?

”She didn’t sack me when I adlibbed on Nazanin and made her hot pot hotter. In another age and time my goose was cooked. But not in the kingdom of lies.”

So you’re saying the news that Porton Down not being able to verify the nerve agent was made in Russia is just another Tory dead cat on the table?

”Of course!” Boris accidentally stood and then ducked again, “his supporters are so fanatical, so desperate to counter the right wing press smears they’ll grab at anything. They’re falling right into the trap and doing the work for us!

You think a Daily Mail reader is going to believe the truth?

Amd how the hell can Porton Down prove it without access to Russian labs?

This buys us days of distraction regarding Cambridge Analytica. Time to rub out more of the trail. What! What!”

Well that makes sense.

”Nothing makes sense,” Boris winked, “Thats the Putin playbook.”

Downing Street was so on the front foot today they were a few steps ahead of themselves and in danger of tripping themselves up as they announced they are testing solutions to the Irish Border puzzle by imposing a border between Camden and Westminster.

“It’s going to rock,” David Davis said, making a rare public appearance away from the subsidised Common bar, “I was having a swift one with Boris, well, it was more like ten, but that’s by the by, and he got out a fag packet and was going to throw it in the bin.”

Mr Davis intervened.

“I said, Boris, I’ve got a pencil and we can solve the Irish Border solution right now and save Brexit.”

What did Boris say?

“He wasn’t really paying attention. He was eyeing up this blonde filly in a corner and wondering if he was supposed to be running to her or away from her.”

But a few shots of tequila later?

“We did it. As my brain fizzed I knew it was obvious. We needed a guinea pig to test solutions out on.”

You’ve got the entire United Kingdom as a guinea pig though?

“Yes, but we’re in danger of terminating that experiment early. We need a smaller guinea pig. Like a micro guinea pig. Or just a little one.”

So that is how you hit on the Camden and Westminster border idea?

“I should hire you. You’re ahead of the story at each step,” Mr Davis swayed, “send me your CV. Or better yet, find out if you’re related to anyone in the cabinet. It’s a lot faster to screen new employees that way.”

So what’s the first test?

“The hard border. Military installations and concrete walls and barbed wire and machine gun nests. Pretty much how we expect the Irish border to look by 2025 once the organised crime gets involved in smuggling when we’re out of the customs union.”

Won’t that make for congestion in central London?

“Maybe you’re not as smart as I thought. There won’t be any congestion if no one can move between Camden and Westminster. It will actually improve traffic flows in London.”

But the hard border won’t work.

“Yes it will. People will just go to the end of it and drive around. It’s bloody genius. We impose a border. We keep the DUP happy and life goes on as usual.”

But they won’t be able to drive around the hard border on the border of Ireland.

“Don’t send me your CV,” Davis sighed, “you haven’t even heard of boats.”

The addiction plagued people of Brexit Britain were given further reason to rejoice today as the new Brexit phone app, released today by Brexit Industries, was found to instantly cure digital addictions.

We spoke to head developer, Richard Head, to learn more about this exciting technological breakthrough.

“We didn’t design it to cure digital addictions,” Dr Head advised, “it’s actually an accident. Although with roaming charges set to return for UK citizens post Brexit, it’s probably good and timely.”

So what did you set out to do?

“We wanted to make it easier for our vast army of social media warriors to quickly respond to Brexit saboteurs online,” Dr Head said, “we figured if we gathered up all the stock responses to reasoned criticism of the Brexit strategy (using the word strategy loosely), then they could engage the app and let it do the arguing online for them. It’s a time saver, essentially.”

You mean turn every Brexiter with a smart phone into a Brexit bot?

“Yes. The Kremlin ones keep getting shut down. But if “you lost, get over it” and “I won, I can’t get over it” etc are coming off the verified phones of actual people, then that’s a nice work around.”

So the Brexit phone app is a bit like viagra? Developed initially for another purpose, but now found to have a real win-win value elsewhere?

“We’re not sure.”

Why’s that?

“Well, as it instantly turns any smart phone into a dumb phone, no one can get online to tell us how their digital addiction cure is actually working out.”

That’s evidence itself, surely?

“It is very Brexit. Lack of evidence taken as irrefutable proof. And completely self defeating. We are quite proud of ourselves.”

The outbreak of Mad Cow Disease, on a farm in Bangor, County Down, had been traced to the presence of an infective agent. Sources close to the Prime Minister describe the timing of the outbreak, which occurred during her visit, as ‘coincidental’.

The disease causes progressive degeneration of the brain, and affects the movement of an affected animal. We spoke to Buttercup, one of the infected cows.

“I was fine yesterday morning,” she mooed. “Then this woman came to talk to a bunch of journalists for some reason. I could smell the poison, but I put it down to Daisy having a dicky tummy again. Next thing I know, I couldn’t stand up!”

How long was the woman in your cowshed, we asked.

“About five minutes or so,” lowed Buttercup. “Or not. I’m a cow, I can’t tell the time.”

What happens now?

“We are going to be burned,” she said, mournfully. “About time too. I am fed up of being a cash-cow for Farmer O’Reilly, or whatever his name is. I have a right beef with him. He is just milking me dry!”

This emergency measure should prevent the spread of the disease. Nobody wants a repeat of the disgraceful scandal of 1990, in which Agriculture Minister John Gummer tried to infect his daughter with British beef. The girl sensibly refused.

Gummer’s present-day successor, Michael Gove, was asked if he would repeat the stunt to reassure today’s public. “Of course! I’ve eaten British beef all my life,” he slobbered, eyes rolling uncontrollably. “And it has had no ill effects upon me or any member of my family!” He staggered off with a most unusual gait.

Government medics confirmed that Theresa May herself is clear of the disease. “She has been examined most thoroughly, and all traces of disease repaired,” confirmed a spokesdoctor. “The procedure left her slightly robotic, but you wouldn’t ever notice it!”

An independent doctor pointed at the unregulated mess-hall at the House of Commons. “That was contracted out under Thatcher,” claimed Dr Jakob Creutzfeldt. “Ever since the Eighties, all kinds of dodgy meats have been served up. Since then, Mad Cow Disease has been endemic in the House.”

Our elected representatives, suffering from a progressive degeneration of the brain? You couldn’t make it up.

A man who has been elected to parliament, because of a comedy routine which got right out of hand, is said to be feeling better this morning after spending time with his nanny.

“I was seeing cavemen everywhere I looked,” the man told LCD Views, “not cavewomen because they are home in the cave where they should be, having cave babies. And they are to have those cave babies regardless of circumstances.

It’s their cave duty to cave God. So not them, but these scary cavemen waving about these big ugly democracy clubs.

Apparently there were tens of thousands roaming the streets of our hamlets on the weekend and without their betters permission! It’s very much my worst nightmare. Uncontrolled poor people.”

It’s believed the man has suffered from this anxiety over cavemen, or commoners as he also refers to them, ever since realising that not everyone is born with massive wealth into a chumocracy and the instinctive ability to know what is best for their inferiors.

“It’s pretty frightening stuff. All these jealous people want my silver spoon. This is why I keep it where I found it when I was born. It is my earnest hope we can get back to a time where only people born owning everything they see are entrusted to make decisions on behalf of the cave dwellers.

You know, decisions like taking away any form of support they receive out of the mistaken belief that accident of birth is a joker. Accident of birth worked out very well for me. These malcontents need to learn to have better accidents.”

So deep was the concern over the sheer number of cave dwellers who had left their caves to come out and demand their democracy behaves like a democracy, the man had to go to his safe place.

“Nanny is always there for me,” the man added, “I need her terribly much. No more so than on days when the political project I’ve put myself front and centre of in order to get even richer through creating a big calamity in the caves appears under threat.

Not only because it’s based on absolute lies, and by conning as many cave dwellers as possible, but because those lies are now being exposed before we’ve finished manufacturing the calamity! Silly Cambridge Analytica! I’m very glad my Auntie is not reporting on it.”

The man looked flushed and started to sniffle then. So we asked his nanny for comment.

“There, there Jacob poos,” Nanny said, “cavemen aren’t really real. Not anymore. There. There. Once you’ve finished your little Brexit you can start restricting their ability to vote. Won’t that be nice too?”

 

Great news today for people who like to tell it as it is with the announcement that London’s newest and tallest landmark, The Shard, is to be renamed ‘the shaft’ to honour the current Westminster parliament.

“We think a lowercase s is important to not draw attention to how deep the actually shafting is,” Michael Gove told LCD Views, “although personally I feel the building maybe a little on the short side for what we’re up to.”

The renaming ceremony is planned for the minute the United Kingdom regains the sovereignty it never lost in order to lose all the things it currently has.

“I am personally lobbying for Her Majesty to base jump off the top of the shaft at the moment of Brexit,” Michael said, “it would be the best way to atone for that hat she wore to open parliament last year.”

Tickets for the event will go on sale shortly.

“You’ll have to set up a series of shell companies and funnel the ticket money through various overseas territories and tax havens,” he added, “it’ll all be perfectly legal.”

Tickets will be gold plated and include an exciting interactive feature.

“Right now we have a crack IT team developing the software to include a hologram of Robert Kilroy Silk on each golden ticket. At the moment of Brexit you need to trigger your hologram by saying ‘shaft me’ to it.”

At that point the hologram of the famous, pioneer of television will spin up out of the ticket and pose a question,

“To share or to shaft?” Michael giggled, “if you’re backing Brexit there’s really only one answer.”