LCD Views

CABER TOSSER : THE UK’S SYMBOLIC PRIME MINISTER, Boris Johnson, will stop at nothing to stop Boris Johnson breaking up the United Kingdom. He’s so committed to stopping it he’s assembled a crack team of people who think just like himself to come up with ideas to stop him from doing it.

The Union Unit will focus on robust responses to the SNP’s push to tear apart a Union that has endured for centuries, until Boris Johnson.

“We won’t be doing any gesture politics. This is serious business,” a source inside the Unit told LCD Views. “We’re complete units in this unit. Thumping. Throbbing. Units.”

And it’s certain that many serious and feasible ideas will be floated for how to prevent the UK breaking up, even after Brexit. Ideas such as greater devolution, federalisation of the system of governance, no longer lying, treating Scottish dissenters with respect and listening to their concerns, engaging with Nicola Sturgeon and bringing her into decisions that affect Scotland, serious investment in the economy of Scotland, gagging Jacob Rees-mogg, all will be suggested and instantly discarded.

“In favour of gesture politics,” the source clarified. “To this end we’ve put the names of the royals in a hat and pulled out the names of a pair everyone has forgotten. We’re going to force them to live in Scotland. Having completely forgotten that the Queen already does most of the time.”

But it won’t just be shuffling royal pieces about the chessboard, there are other killer plans.

“We’re going to have Boris Johnson go to Scotland and toss off. Caber toss. He’ll be wearing hi-vis tartan when he does. It’s going to be charming. But best of all he will host a televised feast for all Scottish Tories and he’ll eat a haggis. Before sneaking off to a broom cupboard with a Scottish waitress. If that doesn’t save the Union, nothing will.”

CARRY ON UP THE CABER : Once there was a little boy called Boris Johnson who had a little shop, but the little shop didn’t sell anything…

But that wasn’t because the little shop didn’t have anything inside it. Little Boris brought home all the living things he found and put them in the shop window, after killing them with his lies. He kept a fishing industry there. He kept services. He kept freedom of movement for plebs. He also kept a virus inside, and that was the one thing he kept very healthy and alive.

One day little Boris was out looking for abandoned fridges to hide in, his favourite game, when he found a sick looking little animal called “The United Kingdom”.

“Oh what jolly japes!” Boris shouted, clapping his hands in glee so hard his comb over fell over.

Little Boris picked up the sick looking animal and turned it over and over. He noticed it had a soft underbelly that was tartan covered. He pushed it. He prodded it. The little animal squealed. Little Boris squeezed it even harder.

“Oooooo! Oooooo!” the little animal cried.

Little Boris jumped up and down and ran home carrying the little animal to put it into his little shop window.

“What do you eat?” Little Boris asked the little animal.

“Sovereignty and a fair share of resources and the economy,” the little animal replied. “Empower all the parts of me, genuinely invest in me, enfranchise my people and never, ever lie, and we can live together happily ever after!”

Little Boris shrugged. He almost fell asleep listening to such a silly list of things. He smiled and squeezed the sick looking creature’s belly another time.

“I know. I’ll feed you haggis!” Little Boris cried. “But first I’ll have to go out and hunt it.”

And Little Boris got into his T45 tank, a gift from a Russian friend that he kept parked just outside, and drove away into the Scottish Highlands to shoot some dinner for his new found friend.

https://youtu.be/VQ63h85UCYY

CHEDDAR GORGEOUS: Everyone knows that the Moon is made of cheese. Interplanetary trade supremo Liz Truss has today announced a massive new deal to supply lumps of lunar loveliness to a nation of Wallaces and Gromits.

Crackers? Don’t forget them, lad! There are still, unbelievably, some people who insist on talking Britain down, who say that the plan is unfeasible. Nonsense, replies Truss. This is precisely what the Lunar Protocol is designed to overcome, and supplies of cheese are expected to flow into Britain in a suitably unfettered fashion.

Lunatic? Not at all. Truss has declared that transportation of the delicious delicacies will be easy. “You see that?” she said, pointing to the sky. Sure enough, the Moon hung there, casting its pale sheen across the negotiating table. “All the Moonians have to do is to drop the cheese over the edge of the Moon, and it will simply float down to Earth!”

Following the Science has always been one of Truss’s greatest strengths.

The Board of Trade issued the following press release, praising Truss for her unstinting efforts:

“Liz Truss, a gurning gargoyle with an unhealthy fetish for pork, like a slightly less perverted David Cameron. Prone to hyperbole, she paddles her inflatable dinghy weighed with Union Flags around the shallow waters of Albania, and claims victory for the price of a handshake.”

This was hurriedly withdrawn when the Board’s one literate member of staff read it and discovered that it contained fragments of truth. Nobody took responsibility for the withdrawn press release, so instead the Daily Express was asked to print a headline screaming “NOW THE EVIL EU IS INSULTING US!”

The Moon also renews itself every month. “This is scientific fact!” trilled Truss tunefully. “We can extract all the cheese we need, and there is a New Moon 28 days later! That’s Science, that is!”

The Man In The Moon declined to comment, as he was too busy pissing himself with laughter.

TATTERED OLD RAGS : DOWNING STREET HAVE PROVIDED MUCH NEEDED CLARIFICATION OVER THE PROPOSALS FOR HOTEL QUARANTINE IN THE U.K., after James Cleverly confused everyone this morning.

The clarification was given than no lesser a figure than the prime minister himself, after Boris Johnson found he had some spare time in his afternoon.

“I can think of no better way to spend the sudden, surprising opening in my dairy than with you good people,” Mr Johnson told reporters over Zoom. “Just think, if it hadn’t been for the abrupt cholera outbreak at the jungle gym in Croydon, I would have been down there dressed as Tarzan for a press shot, and not here with you.”

And the Croydon cholera outbreak was welcomed indeed, especially by the people of Croydon, deprived of the spectacle of Mr Johnson.

“Now, what’s on your mind folks? Alas. I only had thoughts of shouting out me Tarzan, you Jane! Anything at all. Hit me up. Arts and crafts questions especially welcome.”

But it wasn’t pointers over how to construct buses out of empty wine crates that reporters sought. It was a deeper understanding of the U.K. Gov proposals for quarantining returning travellers in hotels.

“I’m not across all of the detail, but I’ll do my best,” Mr Johnson replied. “Firstly, it’s important we give time for the friends and family of cabinet ministers to get off those tropical islands and back home to Blighty! Wouldn’t want them separated from one another unnecessarily. They may bring home gifts.”

Fair enough.

“Also, it’s important we give the coronavirus variants themselves a fair chance to get into the country, and into our communities. Evolution must be given its head! But rest assured all new mutations will be told the onus is on them to report for quarantine on the 15th February.”

World beating.

“And thirdly, but most importantly, all hotel rooms in the United Kingdom are to be fitted out with Union Jack flags on poles. This will aid people who will be doing work calls over Zoom during the quarantine period. And just in general. The days will pass, they will merge into one another, but if there’s a Union Jack flag at your back you still at least know where you are.”

The Union Jack flag, it’s everywhere these days, except on the failures of the government, on those it wouldn’t be seen dead.

CONTINENTAL DRIFT: Or when is an island not an island? Geographically challenged charlatan Grant Shapps has weighed in, incontinently. 

You can’t compare like and like. Comparisons between comparable companions are incompatible. Contrary contrarians are confused. 

This is the latest attempt to deflect cantankerous covid criticism. The logic is world beating. The UK couldn’t close its borders like Australia did, because it isn’t as big. 

Size clearly matters. Shapps insists you can’t do the same things with a small one as you can with a large one. You can’t use the same protection on a little one, one size doesn’t fit all. 

It’s indicative of how far we have fallen, that a man is going onto TV to insist that he has a little one, which is why he refused to do the deed. Little man Shapps refused to put the dick into indicative.

This limp response to a colossal cock up is the main reason that the country has been shafted by covid. No protective ring, no arms wrapped around the country, no forming a square. Now they send out nonentities like Shapps to argue over semantics. 

Australia’s antipodean neighbour, New Zealand, has also performed admirably to close its borders and keep covid out. NZ might be a better comparison size wise, which is presumably why Shapps omitted to mention it. 

It’s very odd that a government, which boasts about ending free movement of people and controlling borders, then fails to do either. 

“We’re all in it together,” Shapps said, desperately failing to gather some crumbs of reason from his disastrous statement. “No country is an island, not Australia, not England. Australia is simply too big, and England has some other countries joined on around the edges. Nobody could have foreseen this, except the foreigners, and anyway Brexit will cure covid. Fact!” 

Now that’s good news. Someone tell Dido Harding to return that £22bn now it’s no longer necessary.