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Gettin down with the youth, tell it as it is : An exhaustive study of modern youth culture

“Well your name came of out of the hat, I P, so it’s your task. You are now the youth culture correspondent,” said the LCD Views’ Editor.

“Monumental Searchlight is on a fact finding tour to Uranus. Rosie Searchlight is hunting butterflies and Moonlight Searchlight has gone missing. So it’s your baby.”

“Well, I know a Tarquin at the rugby club. I could speak to him.”

“No! I mean youth culture from the street!” replied the Editor.

“You mean…….!”

“Yes, go to an inner city skatepark! LCD Views has to know what the kids are saying and thinking,” the Editor retorted. Get the clothes, the cap, learn the language and report back.”

I’d give anything for that butterfly story right now, I thought.

Through a friend of a friend of a friend I find Henry, the coolest skate dude in the park. We agree to meet. I park the Prius several streets away, lock it and screw in a few more wheel nuts for luck.

There’s a guy chipping away at new Banksy mural painted up on the side wall. Small crowd of art correspondents chattering to each other and to no one else.

I look around, I check the bowl. I hear grinding behind me. “Yo neat olly,” I said, trying to sound convincing. “So, wots happin’?”

“Skunking man, you that guy that called me? Mate your caps on all wrong. F*ckin no idea bro.”

“Oh, thanks bro…..” God I’m hating this right now. I’m well out of my depth, I thought. “So, wot you think of Stormzy?” I ask.

“F*ckin good man, says it as it is,” says Henry to a backbeat of artificial percussion. “Raps like a demon, speakin’ for da streets. Shit work, zero hours, high rents, fast food chain rippin’ me off cos I didn’t turn up one evening for their shit wage. F*ck man, they only gave me half hour notice.”

“I guess you didn’t go to Uni then?” I ventured.

“Mate, they said my art was bangin’, they liked the art on my skate…but then they said I had to pay to learn. F*ck that, I found a better way.”

“How so?” I ask.

“See that Banksy over there. Well that dude never leaves Bristol. But, he and I have a kinda understandin’. Know wot I mean? Dont you tell no f*cker, I have an eye on your wheels.”

“Bro, your secret is safe with me,” I assured him.

We do a complicated handshake, I’m slightly off the pace. “I never realised you were a freemason!” I said. Henry looked at me strangely and sloped off. “Can I call you again bro?” He wings his hand (thumb out, little finger out mid three folded).

“That’s a good sign…….right?” I ask. Cool….. I live for another day.

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Trump calls for teachers to be armed with anything other than books

President Donald Trump has responded swiftly and decisively to the latest mass shooting at an American school by proposing to arm teachers, with anything other than books.

“Assault rifles may not be enough,” President Trump said, “this crazy, crazy POTUS get crazier every day. I don’t know who his paymaster is, I honestly don’t. You tell me. Hi! Hi. Thanks for coming. This is the biggest crowd for any presidential response to a school massacre.”

It’s believed he will push for compulsory training in SWAT tactics for school teachers and handling of rapid fire weapons in active shooter situations.

“I think we’ll have to step it up to machine guns nests instead of desks for teachers. I honestly do. We’ve got to keep our children safe. We’ve got to do anything that will make more money for the NRA and keep our children safe.”

Proposals to hold gym classes inside armoured personnel carriers were also being considered.

“We really do have the best gun technology. Better than Obama had. Bigger than Hilary. You know I heard she only carries a .38. What a pussy. Truly terrible. Un Un Un American folks.”

A suggestion that it would be better to ban military grade weapons and arm teachers with even more books were met with scorn by the paternal POTUS.

“A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, don’t you know that? I know that. It’s about all I know. I’m going to ban books. All books. Just until we can work out what the hell is going on. Teachers need to arm their students against my stupidity. They really do. I’m telling you.”

We asked a 16 year old what she felt about the President’s response and that of his supporters,

“It makes me feel totally nurtured. To know that the older generations, the ones I look up to in order to feel safe and cherished, taken as a group they’d rather encourage the pseudo-religious worship of guns than do the one thing needed to make it less likely I get gunned down in math.

No other country on earth has been able to stop school massacres. The UK and Australia, sure, they pretty much stopped massacres by deciding in a wave of revulsion and care for their children to give up certain weapons, but that doesn’t stop knife attacks or terrorism, so why do the one thing you need to do to save the life of a child who you don’t know?

How selfish are they. That child may grow up to want to shoot up on the weekends to feel less inadequate.

It’s important that people who imbibed the creation myth of America with their mother’s milk get to keep having fun with guns so we can keep dying by the dozen while learning.

The 2nd amendment foresaw this situation and they went ahead and ratified it. They knew one day big truck driving American men would have to defend their homes against cruise missiles with assault grade weapons bought at department stores.

It really sends a message to all kids about our parent’s priorities.”

It’s understood Drumpf is also considered introducing an armed curfew on anyone under twenty in case they decide to march on his Washington or vote.

“It might be safer to ban attending school,” Trump mused, “make every child study at home like I did. I’m self taught. A lot of people don’t know that. Knowledge is power and believe you me that’s the one thing I don’t want the American people to have.”

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Disciplinary panel finds Ben Bradley over qualified to be a Tory MP

An independent parliamentary disciplinary panel has found Ben Bradley MP for Idiocy, over qualified to be a Tory MP.

”He should probably phone Elon Musk up and tell him straight ‘I Ben Bradley, I am a visionary and you Mr Musk, you need me’,” panel chair, Mr Common Antique said.

”If Musk is too afraid of the competition he should next call Donald Trump and say to him straight, ‘I Ben Bradley, I am a legal genius and you Mr POTUS, you need me.”

The advice has been lent added weight by the Royal Society of Marine Floaters, who added unexpectedly,

”We know about pools. We know about ponds. We know about rivers and streams and palm fronds. Ben Bradley MP is too big for this pond. He should seek fame and fortune where he can spread his wings and quack.”

The flood of unsolicited advice comes after Ben Bradley MP for Idiocy libelled alleged, infamous soviet era spy Jesus Christ (has risen and will slowly float back down again if he doesn’t stop fudgeberging Brexit) on social media.

”I’m going to fight this all the way to deselection,” Ben told LCD’s legal whiz, “I’m going to raise a local militia to defend democracy. Hang on, let me tweet that.”

Ben tweeted, deleted and then explained,

”I was just following orders anyway, why pick on me? They must think I’m disposable? I’m not come coffee cup.

Well I’m here to tell them today that I, Ben Bradley MP, I am not going away. After all, they may need to use me as a dead cat on the table some other day.”

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Using canned food as a weapon in self defence situations

Chuck Norris, MP for Hard, has thrown himself bodily into the debate over what the United Kingdom will look like after Brexit today, to everyone’s delight.

“It won’t be the United Kingdom anymore for starters,” Mr Norris said, “You can see it unravelling already, if you’re paying attention. I anticipate by 2025 the United Kingdom (formerly known as by then) will have devolved back to about the Anglo-Saxon era of warring kingdom. That will rock. I’m going to be a king in real life as well as the cinematic imagination.”

Mr Norris went on to say that he believed he needed to get involved in the debate because he could help people to prepare themselves for future conditions.

“There won’t be a lot of fresh food about, that’s a given. But there will be a lot of tinned food hidden away in homes. This is perfect for the cunning and agile and wantonly violent, when required.”

Mr Norris explains his thinking more fully in the latest update to the bestseller ‘Post Brexit Survival Guide : How to thrive in a Mad Max dystopian landscape”.

“You can use tinned goods as weapons,” He explains, “They aren’t just for eating, that is the last resort if you’re hunting party returns empty handed for several days.”

He says the best way to use a tin of baked bins initially is to listen for approaching strangers,

“Wait concealed around a corner. When they turn the corner, KAPOW!, sock it to them in the throat with a tin of tomato soup and you can take whatever they are holding. If you have twine you can tie their wrists while they are unconscious and you have a field worker for your desperate attempts to grow maize.”

And that’s not all.

“If the harvest is bad you can repeatedly beat the person you dislike the most in your community to death with only one tin, using the methods illustrated in this guide. The whole community can sacrifice them ritually in this way on the Aztec style altar you will have built by then with stone scavenged from the burnt out shell of Westminster. To be honest, I can’t wait. It’s making me a little hard, I don’t mind tell you. And I’m hard enough already.”

Mr Norris does ad one note of caution however.

“Stock up on can openers now. You need to be prepared. There won’t be any manufacturing to speak of after Brexit, so go to the shops right now and buy about five hundred. You can capture more from weaker people as you go. Good luck and good eating.”

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Vultures reintroduced back into the wild as breeding pair of Paul Dacres released

Environmentalists are going bugshit with fury today at the amazing news that vultures have been reintroduced into the British countryside after a breeding pair of Paul Dacres were released.

The release of the pair took place in the Forest of Dean at midnight, after the saying of spells and the reading of omens.

“The first omens were bad,” Dr Dayley Fail told LCD’s environmental correspondent, Green Searchlight, “we kept killing chickens and spreading the entrails out on a cursed stone and they swirled into a swastika over and over. And not the good swastika, but the bad one, the clockwise one.”

Undeterred the team behind the project kept going.

“We just kept slaughtering different animals until we got the right amount of gore and guts slathered across the stone so it couldn’t swirl anymore. The Paul Dacres were going nuts trying to get to the stone.”

But why are environmentalists upset?

“Oh, you know what these cereal crunching, libtard, snowflake, democracy despising greenies are like. They’re banging on that the vultures aren’t native to the British landscape and will only reek and wreak havoc on the few wild animals we haven’t already killed off over the centuries.

But we have it on good authority, from an article in the Daily Mail printed in the early 1930’s that the vultures will thrive in the right conditions. They can’t stop us. If they do we will get about 1,000,000 spam bots onto them and sort them right out. Enemies of the people.”

So that’s good news.

It’s hoped the vultures will begin breeding this spring after raiding graveyards for newly buried skeletons. They build their nests from the bones and then shit on everything nearby to mark their territory.

“We only hope the fake news storymongers, Stop Funding Hate, don’t succeed in convincing our sponsors to withdraw funding until the vultures have succeeded in their task of turning the British countryside into a playground for tax dodgers.”

 

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Economists for Brexit report advises U.K. shoot bird in its hand and set fire to its bush

A report released today by the visionary group known as Economists for Brexit advises the U.K. to shoot the bird in its hand and set fire to its bush.

”It’s vitally important the bird is shot while still in the hand, to get maximum benefit from hard Brexit,” Professor Mingeford (rumoured to have purchased his degree online) said, and then shivered.

“After we have shot the bird IN OUR HAND (more shivering) we will stuff its  shattered carcass into the hole we’ve shot through our palm. It will be important to use a large calibre gun, possibly even a small canon.”

The findings are revealed today in their latest report. To write it they got even higher than usual and strapped themselves into a chair, Clockwork Orange style.

”We watched so many tapes of exploding British made munitions I almost overdosed,” Mingeford continues, “and then the music, the music, the beautiful music of starving villagers wailing. Jesus wept. You have to take a hit from this misery bong.”

As to what to do after the United Kingdom has shot the bird in its hand?

”Well, with any luck, if we aim right and no traitor judges, journalists, elected representatives or young people get in the way of the bullet, we will have also shot oursevles clean through the foot.”

This sounds fantastic!

”Then we turn our attention to the bush with two birds in it.”

What do we do then?

”Douse it in gasoline and tory, tory torch it. Stand back laughing, watching our bush burn, get on the highway and head north.”

So this will flush the birds out?

”Who cares? Who really fffing cares? We just want to watch the world burn.”

LCD Views would like to say how thrilled we are that a group known for rubbishing forecasts it doesn’t like has produced a forecast of magic thinking we can all get behind.

”Are the lambs still screaming Clarice?” Mingeford wants to know, “or do we have to get our hands on a nice new flock and get our hands wet?”

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60 odd Tory MP’s write to Theresa May demanding to smell napalm in the mornings

LCD Views is ecstatic for democracy today with the news a rabble of sixty odd (very odd) Tory MP’s have writen a letter to prime minister Theresa May demanding to smell napalm in the mornings.

”They love the smell of napalm in the mornings,” Priti Patel, somehow still an MP, said of her colleagues in the ERG (it’s exactly the same as the Borg).

”They think the best way to get that heady scent right into the nostrils of the whole country is to start with complete economic instability.”

It’s a good starting point.

”After all, we send so many bombs overseas each year, why not sell some at home?”

A good point. It would certainly help re-vitalise the British tradition of civil war.

”Clearly the GFA is a bit of a stumbling block, so our solution to that is fuck it then. It’s only Irish people who will suffer and with our plan to enforce a naval blockade in the Irish Sea none of those troublemakers will make it over here.”

Its not clear how Theresa May will respond to the demands of the disaster capitalists, who would burn the world for a quick buck.

Terror probably. Catatonic confusion, certainly.

”Theresa is locked in the toilet shouting at the toilet brush,” Damien Green told LCD, “in theory she’s practising set lines for the Chequers team building workshop, but security have been in five times already this morning to ask what all the confused screaming means.”

Is it  coming to the end game time for Theresa the Appeaser?

”It’s their heads on spikes,” Damien agreed, “or hers. And if it hers, it’s the entire country’s. Fight the ERG or be assimilated.”

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Dacrefinger

“Well, what do you think?”

I looked into the LCD Views editors’ eyes, trying to read their thoughts, Slowly a smile spread across their faces.

“Damn it Standing, I like it! I like the cut of your jib, but you are going to need my joke Swiss army watch. Here, I haven’t used it in years, I hope it still works.”

“What’s this big red button?” I asked as I pressed it….water sprayed from the watch into the editors’ eyes.

“You best leave now Standing, to catch your flight.”

Upon landing in the Virgin Is (USA) I hunted around for a fixer.

I explained I needed a small fast boat to take me to Thomas Island under cover of darkness.

“You can’t be serious? No one has ever returned from that island alive. It would be a one way trip!”

“Ok, I’ll take a single ticket, that should be half price, correct?”

That night with no moon, we set out for Thomas Island. The boatman was nervous:

“You know who lives there don’t you?”

“Yes,” I said. “That is why my country is depending on me, I need to get in to see and photograph the A4 sheet of the Brexit plans, they will be in the safe or on a notice board in the news room.”

The boatman drops me 25m from the shore. Just the right distance with my RLSS competent swim badge.

It’s so dark I can’t see a bloody thing, so I roll into a ditch just up from beach and wait until daylight.

I’ve overslept, the sun is up and shining brightly. I gingerly look over the top edge of the ditch and I see this stunning woman rising out of the sea wearing conch shells in all the wrong places!

I hear the engine note of a speed boat, she runs and dives into the ditch beside me. I rearrange her conch shells so they are all in the right places.

“Do you speak Engleeesh?” I ask

“Yes, I’m from Deptford, what are you doing here Standing, this is my mission. Whoever gets that A4 sheet of the Brexit plan will make it big time in the main stream news media.”

We start to discuss terms, I suggest……no deal is better than a bad deal.

“Don’t be such a fool,” she says.

“Who opens a negotiation with that premise?”

Before I could answer, I feel a bang to my head and I collapse unconscious.

I awake in a room lying strapped to a table with a strange looking pointy thing hanging from the ceiling. To my left in pride of place is a life size statue of Theresa May all covered in gold with a silver anchor chain hung around the neck.

In walks the evil genius and the owner of the island.

“Aaah Mr Standing, we meet at last”
“Dacre you won’t get away with it.

The British people will see through your evil Brexit cult and you will be finished for ever,” I squeaked.

Dacre smiles an evil smile and throws a big lever by the wall. The big pointy thing in the ceiling starts to hum, suddenly a beam of red laser light starts to cut the table, slowly travelling towards my conch shell.

A CNC cutting machine! Oh, that is cunning.

“Dacre, do you expect me to talk?”

“No, Mr Standing, I expect you to die,” smarmed the evil Brexit genius as he leaves me alone in the room.

Suddenly I remember the joke watch the LCD Views editor loaned me.

I pressed all the buttons and then in desperation I pressed the big red button.

The water sprayed on to the laser light and the CNC machine instantly stopped due to electricity and water not being the best of friends.

Hours later, I manage to free myself and search for an escape route.

Upon running past a noticeboard I see the A4 Brexit plans with scribbled words in the margin (Mad Max, deep and meaningful, seamless border) written by David Davis.

I take a photograph and run onwards.

Time to text the secret rescue code to the orange satsuma visiting the Pentagon: ‘Virgin Islands ban guns’.
I knew I wouldn’t have to wait long. Within half an hour ten helicopters emblazoned with the NRA logo and brandishing every possible rifle, machine gun and rocket grenade launcher used for hunting squirrel, descended upon the island.

I held up a conch shell…..to show I was friendly.

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Theresa May announces exclusive trade deal with Uranus

The first Big Brexit Benefit has been revealed. Our Glorious Leader, Theresa May, has announced that a potentially lucrative trade deal has been struck with Uranus.

Although details are naturally sketchy, this is a triumph for May and the Trade Secretary, Liam Fox. We will no doubt, in time, become better acquainted with the products of Uranus.

“Global Britain means Global Britain!” gushed Brexit advocate R. Slicker. “It’s one in the eye for the EU. This is out of this world!”

Slicker could not put flesh on the bones of the deal. “Early days, early days,” he chided. “I am not privy to the whole agreement. I assume that Uranus produces, well, Uranium I suppose. The nuclear summer is round the corner.”

Liam Fox was in celebratory mood. “This is, I believe, the first such interplanetary deal in the world!” he announced at a hastily-called press briefing. “It has the added benefit of enabling me to fly to Uranus to finesse the deals. I am thinking of re-naming air miles air parsecs!”

Fox did not reveal the cost of his space hops, but assured the faithful hacks that Britain would benefit in the long term. “I am also on the brink of securing trade rights with Pluto,” he revealed, before berating the International Astronomical Union for downgrading Pluto’s status to a ‘dwarf planet’. “It means that I can no longer fly business class to Pluto. Britain deserves better!”

EU representative Claude Feete was on hand to admit defeat. “I’ll tell Liam Fox where to stick it!” he exclaimed. “He can stick it up Uranus!”

Something lost in translation there, we suspect.

We tried to contact representatives from Uranus for comment. Unfortunately, neither the Pigs Of Uranus nor the Pink Fairies managed to make any kind of coherent sound.

This certainly isn’t a bad deal. It will be a roaring success, because as we all know, no deal is better than a bad deal.

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Man with his head stuck up his backside insists everyone get behind him and push

A man with his own head stuck up his backside insists everyone get behind him and push, at least that’s what we think he said.

“It was a little hard to understand what he was saying,” LCD Views’ rectal-cranial analyst advised, “his statement was muffled. But the gist of it was about making the best of the situation.”

Inquiries into how the man came to find himself in such an unusual position were answered readily by his close family.

“One day, while sitting on a Southern train that was paused for three weeks outside of Clapham Junction station, he picked up a discarded Daily Mail to pass the time,” his wife shrugged, “he read it front to back, somehow, and he was never the same again.”

It’s believed that pivotal moment led to an increasing dislike of the European Union with a vicious fury about freedom for bananas.

“I voted remain in the last vote the United Kingdom will ever take,” his wife continued, “I read and saw all the claims of the Leave chancers and anything I didn’t have the immediate knowledge to reject out of hand as bollocks, I simply googled up and found was bollocks.”

The man himself was not so lucky.

“It’s been very strange to watch and quite sad,” the man’s wife continued, “I remember before the referendum he just wanted sovereignty back, you know, to trade with the world.

That seemed a little odd, given all the non-EU goods he buys, but anyway, the sovereignty one is particularly bizarre. I don’t know how he thinks FTA’s are regulated? I’m starting to think I married an idiot.”

But now that the man has his country back things are getting serious.

“When the crown of his head disappeared up his bum I was just impressed he was still so flexible. But now I can’t understand a damn thing he says, unless he farts at the same time and things, well, open up in a gust. You can catch a few words then.”

It seems the big problem now is getting his shoulders in behind his head.

“I really don’t know how he expects anyone to get behind him and push, I mean, it’s just so icky now.

Between you and me, I’m planning on moving out and not coming back unless he manages to get his head out of his backside.

But I’m a little worried only a surgical intervention will succeed and I can’t see him signing up for that now he’s committed to this. He’s pretty stubborn. He may even be slowly suffocating.”

We asked her to let us know how they get on.

“Oh don’t worry, you can find out, he spends all day on Open Britain, pro EU Libdem and Labour pages and Britain For All ranting about remoaners needing to get behind him and push. You’ll know how he’s getting on.”