Category: Having a Laugh

A varied collection of gut bacteria have broken their traditional silence today to complain about comparisons to the jailed leaders of Britain First.

“We have had enough of this,” Firmicutes announced, at a press conference held inside the intestine of a middle aged lady, “we get these comparisons between ourselves and Britain First every time those racist, knuckle draggering shitbunglers break into the news for whatever wannabe fascist stunt they’ve pulled now. It’s not fair. We won’t stand for it anymore.”

Firmicutes wasn’t alone. Minutes after it made the statement, it was joined by Actinobacteria, talking while helping digest a poached egg in the gut of a child of eight.

“Do you acknowledge the good I do? I’m at work right now in a child’s gut helping turn the breakfast it was prepared into energy so it can get through to lunch and all I read on social media is people calling me names? This stops now!”

Ruminoccocus, Peptococcus and others joined the call just as readily in what has been described by people making the comparisons, food for thought.

LCD Views has recently been guilty ourselves of such provocative statements directed at the unicellular success stories of the evolutionary struggle and we would like to make a fulsome and hearty apology. Bacteria may have less cells but they are clearly more evolved than any member of Britain First.

Furthermore we promise to find more fitting analogies in the future.

“Compare them to poo,” Bifidobacterium suggested, before adding, “and while you are at it can I please have a new name that doesn’t include bloody ‘bifi’ in the handle?

If I get called ‘biffer’ by a lab technician one more time you can damn well deal with this bit of left over steak stuck in a fold of intestine yourself.”

We will pass the suggestion along to the relevant authorities, thank you for your time and efforts on the behalf of humanity. At least we can all smile at the knowledge Jayda and Paul will be in single cells for a spell.

“No problem. Now chuck another cup of coffee down, will you? I’m parched.”

We’ve all seen some ridiculous expenditures as a result of outsourcing, but I think I’ve just witnessed the one to end them all.

I was on my lunch break, having a drink in the Doctor, Doctor public house, when I heard a loud voice at the door shout out, “Knock, knock!”

The barman clearly knew who it was, for he grinned, walked up to the door, and answered, “Who’s there?”

The disembodied voice answered, “An Englishman, an Irishman and a Scotsman.”

The barman chuckled, and braced himself, as he asked, “An Englishman, an Irishman and a Scotsman who?”

“An Englishman, an Irishman and a Scotsman who are here to change your lightbulb!”

At this, the barman opened the door and in walked a very bizarre trio. The speaker first in a Savile Row suit and a bowler hat, carrying a stepladder, followed by a man in full highland dress carrying a box of lightbulbs, and finally a man dressed all in green with a shamrock hat on, carrying a live chicken.

“It takes three of you to change one lightbulb?” the barman asked.

“Yes,” replied the Englishman, Will Fixham. “Sean and I keep the ladder secure, while Jock here goes up and does the business.”

He pointed to his kilted colleague Mr Strap, who held up his lightbulbs.

I was intrigued by the proceedings, and followed them as they made their way to where the faulty bulb was. As Mr Fixham set the ladder down, Irishman Sean O’Worries asked me to hold the chicken for him while he and his friend held the ladder down.

Once they were both in position, the Scotsman ascended the ladder with kilt flowing. I refrained from looking up, but noticed a couple of ladies picking that moment to pass by and casually glance up just as they neared the ladder. I said nothing.

“That’s why I’m the one who goes up the ladder,” Mr Strap explained once he came down. “Just to test the ladies’ curiosity.”

I nodded in understanding. But there was one thing that puzzled me. Why did they need a live chicken? I asked as I handed it back. Were they going to have it for their lunch?

“No, no,” said Sean O’Worries as he took the bird from me. “This little lady is the one who leads us across the road when it’s busy.”

So now we know why the chicken crossed the road. To lead the Englishman, the Irishman and the Scotsman into the bar, the Doctor, Doctor, just so we could see why it took three of them to change a lightbulb.