Category: Observing the human

“It was the smell really,” a BBC gardener told us, “that first alerted me to what he really was. That and the way people keep dumping their food waste on him.”

Apparently the man, who is actually a compost heap, spends most of his time hanging about the Radio 4 Today programme studios, when he’s not in the House of Commons piling fetid ideas for making poor people suffer more into the collective policy framework.

”I have been wondering about him before I decided to investigate,” the gardener elaborated, piece of straw in his mouth,

“do you want a piece of straw? I took it up when I decided to stop smoking. I was going to chew on matches like a 70’s film character, but I worried if I accidentally used one of the type that you can strike on any surface to ignite I may set off a gas explosion. So many think tank representatives, and the politicians on their payrolls, roll through the BBC day in and out, it’s pretty much the Hindenburg now.”

So what’s he going to do about the compost heap?

”Turn him over I guess, like any dump for ideas rotten woth ideologcial zealotry and inherited intellectual bias.”

Surely it would be best to move him out to the yard? Pick a good spot.

”Well, the rats would probably find him then and set up shop. He’s not a good compost heap. It takes ages for anything to breakdown in him and besides…”

Besides what?

”I shouldn’t tell really.”

Go on. Tell.

”Okay, but don’t print this.”

We won’t. We promise.

”I’ve seen that old blowhard Humphrys out weeing on him.”

To add nitrates?

”I’m not sure about that, they both seem to enjoy it. More likely it’s some sort of recycling of ideas between the two of them. Perhaps I’ll try growing some tomatoes with the soil he makes next summer. They can’t be anymore toxic than the food crap we’re going to import from the US after Brexit.”

Exercise is good for you, so they say. In the pressure cooker that is the 21st Century, more and more people are turning to yoga as a way to unwind.

Exercise, flexercise. Yoga helps to develop suppleness. And there has been a massive uptake from people needing that increased flexibility. To preserve themselves from reality, many yoga converts want to be able to disappear up their own backsides.

LCD’s Impractical Solutions correspondent spoke to yoga instructor Misty Cattitude for a greater insight.

“It’s all about getting back to fundamentals,” Cattitude explained. “People want to escape from reality and responsibility, and find inner peace. Quite literally!”

Everyone needs to take a break from the relentless pace of modern life, we suggested.

“That’s right,” she confirmed. “We have also seen a massive increase in applications from Leave voters. Brexit has hit them hard. But they would rather gouge out their eyes than admit they were wrong.”

So why do they want to do yoga?

“It clears the mind,” Cattitude explained. “But still, most of them want to pretend it isn’t all happening. They don’t want to take the blame for the unicorn shortage, the foodbanks or Nigel Farage. This requires a high degree of flexibility.”

So how do you manage to make them flexible enough to stick their heads up their bottoms?

“It’s all to do with the spine,” she said. “Individual vertebrae have to be loose and there needs to be plenty of play in the joints. Luckily, the people who come to us tend to have very little backbone!”

It sounds extremely difficult, not to say painful…

“The insertion is the most advanced part,” Cattitude concluded. “You need to be a massive arsehole to pull it off, but they try very hard indeed. They are a very intense lot!”

You might almost say they are up their own arses.

Angry old men, affectionately referred to as ‘gammons’, have reacted badly to the announcement that the BBC was not going to use the word ‘gammon’ to describe them. One such man, spokesman of the Pork Information Group (PIG), has gone as far as to blame this on Muslim appeasement.

“This has gone far enough!” thundered PIG leader Hammond Chipps. “What’s wrong with calling people gammons? Oh yes, Muslims don’t eat it, so the lefty libtard snowflake BBC won’t mention it because it’s “offensive”. You know what? I don’t care. I’m gammon and proud of it. This is our country, if you don’t like it go home!”

Chipps paused to mop his florid forehead and regain his breath. Blood vessels pulsed menacingly under his ruddy skin.

“The limp-wristed traitorous BBC is stopping free speech,” Chipps continued, puffing like a poorly maintained steam engine. “In our country we can say what we like! The PIG says it as it is, and anyone who doesn’t like it should shut up!”

The very definition of free speech, I’m sure you will agree.

LCD’s Meat Metaphors correspondent sought the opinion from the Islamic point of view. “I’m tired of repeating myself,” said Hamza Fensive of Muslims Of Britain (MOB). “Muslims are not offended by pigs or pork. Calling people gammons is fine, yes they do look a bit meaty, don’t they?”

If you don’t like it go home? If you don’t like it shut up?

“Here we go again,” sighed Fensive, his eyeballs rolling audibly. “MOB members all live in the UK, and we are not the ones making all the noise! Tell you what though. Our Mosque gets bombarded with bacon. Well, we won’t eat it, but some of our more enterprising chaps have opened a pop-up shop selling bacon sandwiches!”

The BBC was too chicken to speak to us. However, in a statement it claimed that the term “gammon” was borderline racist, probably, and that the BBC didn’t want to offend their core audience of Question Time plants.

The BBC is chicken about gammon plants, and those who reject pork are bringing home the bacon. Brexit Britain in a nutshell. The world’s gone crackers.

God created the Garden of EU for the man and the woman to live in. He took a day off, as he was tired after six days of ceaseless creation. Unfortunately, free Will of the People was one of the gifts that He had given to mankind.

The Garden was fruitful, and the man and the woman were happy, and had plenty of all that they needed. They prospered and grew strong, and there was no need to cover up.

God placed but one condition on them. “You may eat of any of the plants in the Garden,” He decreed. “But you are forbidden to eat the fruit of the Brexit tree, for whomever eats of that tree will surely die.”

Now the serpent was the craftiest of God’s creatures. He persuaded the woman to eat the fruit of the Brexit tree. “For you will not die,” he hissed. “You will see the light, and know the truth which God has concealed from you!”

So the woman ate, and discovered that God’s plans were laid bare, as naked as she was. She became convinced that the Garden was too good to be true, and that the grass was greener outside.

“Cheers for the tip, Nige!” said the woman, Theresa. “Hey, Jeremy, try this, it’s lovely!” So the man ate too. The scales fell from his eyes, and he too felt as if he has been lulled into a false sense of security. So they created dull garments and set off for the Garden gate.

“Why are you leaving my Garden?” asked God. “Why have you covered your motives? Did you eat the Brexit fruit? Did I not forbid you to eat of the Brexit tree?”

“It was the serpent’s fault!” wailed the woman. “He deceived me!”

“In return for your disobedience, woman, you will have an insoluble paradox to solve,” thundered God. “And you, man, for your weakness, will Labour for ever in barren soil!”

He turned to the serpent. “You will crawl on your belly,” He declared. “You will forever be an Enemy of the People!”

“Get over it, God, who needs experts?” said the serpent. “We got are country back!”

Revelations about Boris’s murky past have made the news, as a former lover kisses and tells. Adult movie star Drizzly Daniels claims she had a brief affair with Boris back in the 1980s.

“I was working as a waitress in a cocktail bar when I met Boris,” Drizzly told LCD’s Bonking Boris correspondent. “This big, blond chap picked me out, said he would shake me up, and turn me into someone new.”

Did you want him?

“Not particularly. But I was intrigued,” she replied. “He would give me a fresh start, and I would give him what he wanted.”

Which was?

“He wanted me to wibble with his fol-de-rol, then treat him to a Drizzly Special.”

What’s a Drizzly Special?

“You’ll have to watch my movies to find that out!”

Fair enough.

“So we got down to business. Only he forgot his side of the bargain,” she said, a little bitterly. “He told me he was going to be big. That much is true. But even then I knew I could find a much better place, either with or without Boris. He dropped me faster than a Brexit promise.”

Drizzly revealed that she has been instructed to keep quiet about the affair. “I was told to keep schtum about the gagging order,” she said. “Boris doesn’t want people to know he’s into bondage.”

In London, Boris denied the rumours categorically. “I’ve heard of Drizzly Daniels, yes, yes, yes, who hasn’t?” he stammered. “Quite a hero of mine in my youth. And yes, there were so many cocktail bars, so many waitresses. Well, it was the eighties, wasn’t it? Porsches, red braces and money to burn!”

But did you ever meet Drizzly?

“No, no, no, absofurtingly not!” he retorted. “Anyone who says that I’m into all that Drizzly stuff is a cad and a bounder! Good day to you!”

So, who should we believe? A flaky, cynical chancer, or Drizzly Daniels?

Rising local radio star, James O’Brien,  can expect to be questioned on suspicion of arson after a furious first time caller spontaneously combusted.

”It seemed like a normal Tuesday,” B Crachit, the unfortunate caller’s neighbour told LCD Views,

“I’d just finished walking around the block highlighting dog mess with fluorescent paint. I do it 10:30am every morning, without fail.

I was going to my door when I saw smoke coming out of my neighbour Bobby “Brexit” Bobby’s letter slot.”

Crachit said he didn’t think anything of it at first.

”Bobby is always bbq-ing in his living room. He says it’s better for the environment. I thought he was just doing some sausages or something.”

It was only when Crachit entered his own home and heard the radio, which he’d accidentally left on, that he cottoned on to something amiss.

”I heard James having a robust exchange of views with a patriot who was in the middle of dishing out a WW2 history lesson, something about how we would have won the war without the USA, the Commonwealth, the Soviet Union and various European countries, because we’re British, when I twigged it was Bobby “Brexit” Bobby from next door.”

Crachit says he decided he better go around before Bobby got himself “in a spot of bother”, which he was likely to do when talking about WW2.

”I was just about out the door when Bobby started screaming for James to phone 999 for him because he was on fire. I’m not sure, but I think during the exchange he may have accidentally absorbed a fact relating to trading conditions under WTO terms.”

Crachit added that he rushed around to Bobby’s to find him flailing about the front door, still holding his Nokia, attempting to put out the flames licking his bollocks, by shouting,

”They need us more than we need them James! They need us more!”

”That O’Brien is a danger. Luckily I was able to extinguish Bobby this time by rolling him about the lawn. But the chances of a repetition of this shouldn’t be ignored.

If you ask me, it’s time for a little health and safety gone mad before someone gets so hot under the collar, they get a stubble burn.”

Or a pants fire.

We contacted both LBC, James O’Brien and the emergency services for comment, but they said, bugger off, you’re satire.

A rampant infection is sweeping cyberspace. The seemingly innocuous Capslock virus has now affected over 30% of the nation’s computers, according to the latest figures.

The Department of Technology, which commissioned the research, pronounced itself “flabbergasted at the scale of the problem”.

Spokesgeek Mike Rosoft explained the government’s position to LCD’s Clever Interwebby Stuff correspondent. “To be quite honest, we are struggling to cope,” he admitted. “It will take time, but our best abacus is on the case.”

“Unfortunately, years of underinvestment and cuts have left us vulnerable,” continued Rosoft, waving his hand vaguely at his desk, which boasted a typewriter and a Bakelite telephone. “The spotty teenage hackers are always one step ahead.”

Rosoft went on to describe the Capslock virus in detail. “It’s a weird one,” he said. “It doesn’t access personal details or stop your device from functioning. It’s an example of a computer virus crossing over to affect humans.”

In itself, the virus is harmless – at least to electronic devices. It has been endemic for years. But the effects upon a human coming into contact can be severe and disturbing. Symptoms include frothing at the mouth, verbal diarrhoea, and reading the Daily Mail.

Sufferers also tend to display punctuation deficit disorder, and blindness in one eye. Repeated exposure can lead to outbreaks of Tourette’s.

Rosoft felt obliged to call in reinforcements. “I employed my mate Mike Uvverupp to help out,” he said. “Mike actually owns a mobile telephone. It’s amazing that you can now make a call anywhere using a device the size of a small suitcase!”

The Department clearly has the matter under control. However, viruses are known to spread through social interaction, via media such as Facepamphlet and Snapgossip. Sufferers are advised to quarantine themselves to prevent the Capslock virus infecting others.

The virus has not yet affected those using CapslockedIn.

LCD Views reports this morning that Brexit analysts have revised the first tangible benefit of Brexit back from blue passports to David Cameron mostly hiding in a shed.

“We totally missed it,” Dr Rem Ainer shrugged, “we’ve been so focused on trying to stop the country hurling itself off a cliff, and laughing at the blue pamphlet thing, that we missed the extended silence of Britain’s greatest prime minister.”

It’s not certain if Mr Cameron was aware he was on camera yesterday, in Davos, it’s also not clear what he’s doing at Davos in the first place?

“Begging richer men for cash and favours, I’d expect,” Dr Ainer suggested, “he’s got to keep himself busy somehow, you know, now he’s come out of his shed. And there’s an entire country to flog off now, with Brexit.”

LCD Views understands that Mrs Cameron is especially pleased to have hubby back out playing with chums in the chumocracy.

“She was starting to worry he was becoming agoraphobic,” a stylist, working for the Camerons told LCD,

“she was thinking it was going to take an intervention. A herd of pigs walking past. A peerage? It was looking dicey.

What do you get for the man who gave an entire half of his arse for his country, broke the country and fled?

Leaving a free food distribution industry booming, I mean the work he and George Osborne did for the charity sector alone is never properly recognised.

And then the Camerons next appear in a weekend newspaper splash, having spent more than the average UK income on a flipping shed? It’s hardly fitting.”

Quite.

Although a set of stocks for Mr Cameron wouldn’t go astray? Target practise for kids? Just with rotten tomatoes.

“Anyway, the important thing is that David is walking and talking again.

Not many people know this, but he suffered serious spinal damage in an accident at his office on the 24th June, 2016, when he literally lost his spine.

His doctor was worried he might never walk and talk in public again.”

If only we’d known, we would have offered to help.

“That’s okay. Now he’s back in business, he at least has a chance of writing his own epithet. If he can be bothered.”

David Cameron the Invertebrate?

“Decide for yourself. At least being a very wealthy man who quit public office and fled, rather than sticking about to clean up his mess, is going less bad than he expected.”

LCD Views has been chosen by the Institute for Elder Studies, a Washington based think tank, to remind middle aged people that,

”…in 20 years time, or less, the millennials they’re busy mocking will be using an app to decide whether or not to turn off your life support.

“We here at the IES do not believe middle aged, and older people, should be ripping the piss out of millennials too hard,” Professor Suez Crisis warms.

“It’s no surprise young people are obsessed with Snapconversation, Instaletter and other platforms newer than Facepamphlet.

We’ve given them climate change, Brexit, Trump, Cold War 2.0 “the reboot”, increasing automation of jobs, and with all the complete televised garbage we’ve been beaming out into the galaxy for decades, there’s an increasing degree of probability that aliens will just nuke us all from space, just to be sure.”

The likelihood of aliens destroying humanity to save them from another season of Celebrity Big Brother aside, the warning is a timely one.

“You might think that video sketch you’re sharing on Facepamphlet is just a light hearted giggle aimed at millennials, but,”

Here’s the but,

“So many of you have helicopter parented and validated your offspring to such a degree that the slightest personal criticism they receive, the event of hearing a solid ‘no’, will likely turn them into genicidal, euthanizing crazy people.

I’d cut the jokes, or at least add a fulsome apology for melting the ice caps along with the Snaptalk gag.”

On the plus side, it’s just as likely millennials won’t be using a app to turn off the life support systems of their parents and grandparents in the future, because they’ll all have become orgy crazed holograms existing only in cyberspace.

“We could get lucky,” Professor Suez shrugs, “there’s not one technological advance that hasn’t instantly been used for porn.

Silicone Valley might save us with holoporn before it allows furious millennials to kill us with euthan-appChat.”

Our heroic Foreign Secretary and Donald Trump wannabe has come through a major operation to extract his tongue from his hero’s backside. Early indications are that he will soon be back to normality.

The procedure was carried out under general anaesthetic at an undisclosed golf course in the USA. Rumours suggest that each of Donald Trump’s golf courses incorporates an integral medical facility. Their raison d’’être is to confirm the President’s excellent health and suitability for the job. More importantly, they ensure that he is well enough to complete 18 holes.

The crisis arose from Johnson’s recent violent attack of brown-nosing. Although rarely fatal, the condition can lead to unpleasant side-effects, such as finding that one’s tongue becomes lodged in another’s backside.

The surgeon who performed the delicate operation, Dr R. Slicker, spoke to LCD’s Medical Calamities correspondent. ““The procedure took much longer than is usual in such cases,”” he stated. “”Normally, copious amounts of alcohol are used instead of anaesthetic. Then a sharp blow to the head with the palm of one’s hand is generally sufficient for the tongue to break free.””

Dr Slicker was unable to say whether Mr Johnson would regain full use of his tongue, but warned that when he talked, to expect the aroma of bullshit.

““I have never seen such an advanced case,”” said the bewildered doctor. “”Mr Johnson’s tongue was so exceptionally deeply inserted that it had suffered from severe elongation. It will be a while before he can insert it back into his own cheek.””

Another relieved man was Mr Trump. His backside now clear of tongue, he lived up to his name, bigly. Never one to miss an opportunity, he tweeted: “”Please inform Kim Jong Un that I too have a nuclear Butt, but it is a much bigger & more powerful one than his, and my Butt works!””

Fortunately, Mr Johnson’s condition will not prevent him from correctly pronouncing words such as ‘fimblewimble’, ‘ostentameous,’ and ‘calamitrosity’.