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Why we have to hope it was David Cameron who paid for the refurb of the Downing Street flat

Old friends can be relied upon in times of trouble and strife. This much is evident to all. Most also are aware that there is no time more riven with strife than when a younger wife, mistress, girlfriend, escort or favoured bordello owner wishes your opinion on new wallpaper.

We as a nation can be grateful that our Prime Minister has a diverse selection of friends to call upon when he is in need. Whether it’s for a foreign holiday in Mustique or Tuscany, or matters of decor. No need for assistance in decorum, he has that nailed down in a way no one could ever improve on.

He was in great need recently when his latest fiancée wished to wipe away the stale odour that Mr Johnson’s predecessor left at No. 11 Downing Street.

Can you imagine yourself Mr Johnson? You already have a full diary each and every day. You must rise at noon to attend to your hangover. You have to have a hangover or you will be wanting for arts and crafts supplies. You have to have a plentiful supply of said materials or how else will you relax after you attend to grave matters of state? That one hour each day takes a mighty toll.

How would you feel when you move from No. 10 to No. 11 after that arduous hour of governance only to find your current lady standing with a monumental collection of wallpaper samples? And she is nobody’s fool. She has positioned herself between you and the fridge with the champagne.

The situation is even worse when you see the price tag attached to those Topkai harem styled wall papers. How will you pay for such lavishness on just a Prime Minister’s salary? Have you not already sacrificed enough?

Here is when a friend, a true companion will come to your aide. They will offer to cover the cost of the refurbishment so you can attend to graver matters, like wondering what Dom is doing?

It is to be cheered that Mr Johnson had a ready friend in his time of need. The woke will never be happy. They want no one to have friends. We can just pray that David Cameron was the friend who paid the £60K, for no reason greater than to help, with no thought to benefit for himself.

That would be perfect indeed, no matter how unlikely.

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Boris and Dom to meet and decide on three word slogan for their public fight

FIGHT LIKE RATS : THE UK’S JOINT SOVEREIGNS, BORIS JOHNSON AND DOMINIC CUMMINGS, have begun to have a very public falling out. You have probably noticed.

While most believed that Dom’s dramatic exit from Downing Street late last year was just the latest wheeze between the power couple, others suspected it was at the behest of the then incoming White House administration and Boris Johnson was just following orders.

“It was. Biden/Harris and the whole team loathe Johnson and Cummings. They were going to be too busy to order Johnson to fire himself but it wasn’t much work to get Johnson to fire Dom. And then wait for Dom’s god complex to curdle into seeking vengeance.”

And seeking vengeance Cummings clearly now is. Many still mistake the current public outbursts as just more dead cats, but given the content of the dead cats…well, branding them with revelations of potential lawbreaking in order to distract seems not the genius Mr Cummings is so famous for (in his own lunchbox and on his own blog).

That is not to say all principles of solid Johnson/Cummings governance are being thrown out of the window. Any major public event clearly needs a three word slogan or what’s the point of it?

“They’re going to meet in the Rose Garden and decide what slogan to choose,” the source reveals. “Dom is said to favour ‘Dom means Dom’ but that’s too egocentric for Boris who is said to want to push it out to five words and use ‘For Whom The Dom Tolls’. That’s no good either, clearly, as the focus is still on Cummings. When Johnson sobers up he’ll realise it and start again.”

The public are sure to have their own ideas. Liar versus Liar is already popular. And you can be certain that many more will be suggested as the handbags at dawn play out.

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Police – Covidiots allowed London march as all officers “busy guarding Churchill statue”

A TISSUE A TISSUE : The Met has responded to criticism over the decision to allow a viral march to go ahead through central London yesterday, in spite of the gross idiocy, insensitivity and public danger of the mass activity.

Speaking directly to LCD Views an entirely fictional source inside the department gave valid reasons for not intervening early.

”It’s not like it was a group solely composed of the greatest threat to civilisation as we know it,” the source said. “It’s not like it was a group of predominately young women, some of who maybe holding small placards protesting against police brutality and the risk of violence to women by men overall. It was a very diverse selection of people who watch YouTube. That’s a different matter entirely.”

What the Home Secretary thinks of the lax policing isn’t clear, presumably because she doesn’t give a shit unless the protestors are progressives.

There is of course additional compelling reasons why the police did not nip out the infectious march early, while it was still in bud.

“There was no danger to the Winston Churchill statue. Therefore British history was safe. So the march was safe,” the source says. “And anyway, every single available officer was guarding said statue. Which in Boris Johnson’s Britain is all that matters.”

A tissue, a tissue, we won’t all fall down, but thanks to the freedom of Covidiots to roam around protesting their lack of freedom to roam around, more of us will than had to.

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BREAKING : Rupert Murdoch to replace U.K. PM Rupert Murdoch with Rupert Murdoch

THE LYING KING : Who really runs the UK? Who governs it? It’s an enduring mystery that many believe they know the answer to.

It’s clearly not the Queen. It can’t be. Johnson and his cabal lied to her face and she allowed them to carry on being the “government”. We can cross the sovereign off the list at the start. A postage stamp is all that head of state is now. A powerful way to move a letter from one location to another. Some would say more’s the pity, given the last few years of misrule.

It’s clearly not the British people. A cursory glance at our democratic institutions and Westminster’s electoral system proves that. The people have been lied to on a massive scale and they don’t care. Enough of them don’t, not yet, but getting there. Other powers are ruling them for they are not exercising self-rule.

Maybe it’s the Russians? They’ve certainly a hand on the wheel. All that dark money sloshing about the UK political scene. The governing Conservative Party so up to its eyeballs in hock to the Kremlin they don’t even want to look at how bad it is. We’ll give them a measure of power, but the influence is only bought so long as the bought are in position.

Maybe it’s the Americans? The Mercers, Bannon, Koch and all the rest? Bit like the gang above. Biden could order Cummings fired, out the front door with a box just like in an American TV show, and wait for Cummings’ unquestioned sociopathy to seek payback on the boss. Which we are now witnessing. So another piece of the power pie to the US.

Which lands us on the shifting soil where we consider the power of the press. It’s a powerful press. The majority of its owners are offshored tax shy billionaires. Not exactly a recipe for democratic longevity.

They shape opinions so completely (especially thanks to the riddling with Tory woodworm of the old barque HMS BBC) that the country can be convinced to self-immolate. Once you add in social media, oh yes, add those billionaires too.

But upon taking power who does each PM rush to see first for decades now? Right after the ceremony with her Maj.

A grumpy old Aussie who decided to become an American. Some bloody Pom cheesed him off so seriously when he was young he decided to destroy the mother country. He can’t rest till it’s done. He’s almost succeeded. Gnarled old claws scraping at the last of our skin.

Let’s give old Rupert the lion’s share of the pie. I can make you and I can break you, is probably what he says? And we see one of his many earthly incarnations, Gove, slithering close to the throne. The sibilant hiss in the ear of the stumbling Falstaff called Boris.

“It’s time….” the hiss reveals… “it’s time to replace me with me…”

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Rishi Sunak to relaunch career with summer swimsuit calendar

MODEL BEHAVIOUR : The UK’s favourite and most photogenic Chancellor ever, Rishi Sunak, has been missing for a few weeks now leading to speculation he has something to hide. We’re happy to reveal it’s for a much more positive purpose.

“He’s been in the studio working on a calendar,” a source inside 11 Downing Street tells LCD Views. “A swimsuit calendar to be precise. He designed the budgie smugglers himself. Special editions that allow you to text with former prime ministers while you stand heroically on the beach being admired for being just so dishy!”

But it’s not just the smugglers that are set to wow the public, even if continuously lax customs procedures for imports post Brexit means it’s a boom time for them.

“He’s also handstitched his own mankini. Eat your heart out Borat!”

The proceeds from the sale of the calendars will go towards a charity of the Chancellor’s choosing, believed to be one focused on restoring the Conservative Party’s credibility. A lot of money is needed.

“Everyone will have one of these Rishi’s hanging on their wall. I suspect he will go global, just like the Kent variant. When you consider his outstanding work with Eat Out To Help Out, it’s only fair. Not to mention the hundreds of millions that were found to help out old colleagues and friends. Really stellar work.”

The calendars won’t just be available online either, they’ll be in all high street newsagents, able to purchased at a discount with copies of the Spectator. That’s for the first week, after that they’ll be retailing at 99p each in Poundstores. Everyone will have their chance!

“You think he’s missing because of the Greensill scandal? Don’t be silly. He’s just getting his hair done. He’ll be photographed looking immaculate on your kitchen wall before long. Which will look a damn sight better than his somewhat shop soiled reputation.”

Rishi? Where would the pandemic have been without his widely reported intervention to delay the second national lockdown last September?

The calendar will be limited in months though, only featuring June to August this year, as “that’s about the time left for his political career.”

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Forget elections, the office of Prime Minister should become hereditary

Once more unto the ballot box, my friends? Why? Haven’t we had enough of elections? Although the eternal threat of a Labour government will not rear its ugly head again until 2024, it is perhaps time to head it off now, while there is still the opportunity to do so.

History has shown that, when ordinary people are involved in any kind of decision-making, that the results are deplorable. This country only won The Crusades because the King was able to act decisively. What would have happened if His subjects had been polled? The results would still be being counted, and Johnny Foreigner would have won, and we would all be going to Mosques, not churches.

Our government, incidentally the best ever in my view, has got some serious work to do, to overcome covid single-handedly, and to make Brexit the roaring success it deserves to be. These are long term ambitions, and the government responsible should not become distracted with endlessly justifying its existence.

But Boris Johnson, alas, cannot continue indefinitely. As time catches up with him, a successor will have to be named. Let me propose, here and now, that the Rule Of Succession should be hereditary. The eldest acknowledged child of the Prime Minister should assume command upon the death or retirement of his father. The Johnson dynasty should be established as soon as possible. His profligate procreativity should guarantee that successors will be found for many years to come.

This will remove uncertainty, and restore the Glorie of Merrie Englande. Johnson’s achievements are already legendary. He has built more bridges than Telford, fathered more children than Casanova, and given away more money than any man in history. This is philanthropy at its finest, and not spaffing money up the wall as his detractors claim.

His achievements must be recognised. A statue is in order, and there must be no expense spared on it. And it’s also time that his miserable stipend should be increased to reflect his preeminence.

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To end lobbying scandals we must free billionaires from the burden of taxation

There comes a time in every great nation’s history when it must take a good and long look in the mirror. Global Britain is at such a fork in the road and the tine is nigh for it to undergo a deep, inward focused examination.

We must not shy this day from drawing down our pants, bending our torso forward, then down, and lifting our eyes up and backwards to stare into the pursed sphere of self-awareness. Further wisdom can be gleaned should we physically insert our cranium right into our interior. To do this all we need do is hold our breath and believe, as was the case with Brexit.

The reason for this is not just Socrates imploring us to know ourselves, it is the parlour state of the nation’s self-esteem. The Prime Minister is being undermined by saboteurs, presumably sent from Brussels, and we must close ranks.

For daily now the chatterati have nothing better to do with their time than gossip about the Prime Minister’s private communications. It is no business of the unwashed what the PM does with the tax code. It is his business to govern as he sees most expedient. This is why he was elected.

Clearly the leaks are a dream come true for the ‘woke’ who are obsessed with the private business of their betters. It is just base envy and should be illegal.

There is a clear case for criminalising poor people talking about rich people in disparaging terms. There is also a clear case to end lobbying scandals altogether so to rob the nattering masses of their fodder.

“A rich man does not need to end the kingdom of Heaven through the eye of a needle, when he can just buy his way in” – Proverbs, Bob, Lindisfarne Dialogues, 980AD.

How do we end the lobbying scandals you ask? It is the essence of simplicity itself. We simply remove billionaires from the burdens of paying tax altogether. Then no text messages and no ensuring scandals. Simple. The additional wealth they accrue will most certainly trickle down.

A bonus will arrive too. Once the dragon of tax on wealth has been slain earnest billionaire funded press organs can focus fully on stamping out the woke. Once everyone agrees British history is entirely positive and the people who are born to rule us have earned the right we can truly make a success of tomorrow.

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Man grateful he won’t lose any credibility in texting scandal

TEFLON : The great bull in the china shop of British politics, your leader Boris Johnson, is said to be planning a good romp among the aisles in the aforementioned china shop today, just like every other day.

Lesser politicians would have fallen long before now in the aftermath of any of the scandals Mr Johnson has been involved in. Indeed lesser politicians would never have risen to be prime minister. Mr Johnson thus displays a political skill that is rare indeed.

“He’s having a cracking time over this Dom text business,” a 10 Downing Street insider told LCD Views. “He’s overseen one of the world’s worst CV-19 responses and no one is suggesting he leaves office. A few texts back and forth with a billionaire offering to fix tax rates aren’t going to slow him down.”

And one particular source of comfort and merriment in the current feeding frenzy over the text messages is knowing that Mr Johnson’s reputation will not be damaged by it.

“This is where his genius lies. He shed any pretence to credibility long, long ago and the people went for it. So who cares? What are you going to do about it? If anything this current furore just shows how much more powerful than you he is. So deal with it.”

Presumably Mr Cummings won’t lose any credibility either, having also completely incinerated his own last summer when he chose to destroy the pandemic public health message.

“Just think yourself grateful that you get to witness the deeds of the mighty. Governance as entertainment. Entertainment as diversion as the state’s coffers are looted. It’s what the people voted for.”

But what about rumours that the release of the text messages are actually part of coordinated plan between Gove and Cummings to bring Johnson down?

“Barely credible. Gove is a patriot.”

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Boris Johnson is right to fight any attempt by Brussels to de-canonise Saint George

Envy is to be expected from Brussels as Global Britain strides the world stage like a colossus. We must take it in our stride like a lion takes the cries of despair from the ants it passes over. We must however draw a line when envy becomes naked vindictiveness.

Luckily we have a prime minister in Boris Johnson who knows when to raise his sword, heft the red crossed British shield, misremember and call out Shakespeare and turn to fight.

Now is one such moment. It is a crossroads in the glorious triumph of a liberated Britain.

It’s all very well for the unelected tyranny across the ENGLISH Channel to take its small comforts by destroying our export industries, it’s another matter entirely when they strike at the core of our national identity.

“Thou shalt not covet they neighbours Saints” – British school children imbibe the 11th commandment with the free school milk their Conservative betters generously bestow upon them. It is just a shame for bi-lateral relations between sovereign equals that the beleaguered offspring of the failing nanny, superstate are not equally nourished. Perhaps then they would show due respect.

UnoTesticular plants its banner now in the sodden soil of the red-taped battlefield with Brussels and declares “HANDS OFF OUR SAINT!”

We implore Mr Johnson to fight any attempt by Brussels to de-canonise Saint George. I would suggest sitting the EU ambassador down on the least comfortable chair available in Downing Street and threaten to no longer recognise Berlin as a city. That will see Merkel think twice.

The EU have already gone beyond the pale. Erroneously they claim the most famous of Englishmen is a patron Saint of most of their countries, and the Levant. We have turned a cold and silent shoulder to such provocation as a mature nation will. But any further moves to downgrade one of the greatest of English symbols on the world stage must be resisted. By force of arms if necessary. Long bow clearly, as that will be best to frighten Macron.

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The Woke Brigade won’t like it, but I still make shepherd’s pie with real shepherds

Stop whatever you are doing. Now. Just in case you are already triggered by my headline. Those who take offence at flags, old-school calling a spade a flipping shovel, and people having more money than you, sit down and pour yourself a stiff dandelion tea. Now.

Political correctness be damned. If I want to make a shepherd’s pie the traditional way, but introduce a couple of novel ingredients BECAUSE I HAPPEN TO LIKE THEM, what business is it of yours? Sip your plant-bothering bunny-hugging vegan Marxist Conservative bleeding-heart herbal muck, if you must, and do try to man up a bit.

Every day, it seems, brings another instance in common everyday life where one feels the Woke Brigade breathing down one’s neck. Not in person, of course, one would set the hounds on them if they came within a ten mile radius, but that unnecessary worry is always there. One is forever waiting for the Left Wing Media to pounce. This is not a petty matter. This is an entire way of life under threat, just in case you think that we UnoTesticular readers are thin-skinned snowflakes who, deep down, realise that they are archaic dinosaurs with the social mores of a face-eating leopard.

So, without further ado, I would like to share my Genuine English Shepherd’s Pie recipe, made with genuine British shepherds. (If Harrod’s is out of stock, and you are slumming it in Waitrose, don’t worry, they do a perfectly acceptable range of British Tradesmen.)

All measures, needless to say, are in Imperial.

1 massive knob (of butter)

1 Spanish ENGLISH onion

2 BRITISH shepherds, peeled and chopped 

A goodly splodge of Greek-style ENGLISH yogurt

1 tin Italian ENGLISH tomatoes

1 teaspoon Dijon NORWICH mustard

1 enormous chip on the shoulder

ABSOLUTELY NO QUINOA

Combine the ingredients together (or get Cook to do it), cover with BRITISH mashed potato, and bake for a while. If you CHOOSE to include tomato ketchup or Worcestershire sauce, GOOD FOR YOU. 

Serve on a bed of Union Jacks with a fine ENGLISH wine, and enjoy the warm sensation of self-righteous superiority seeping through your veins. And may the Woke Brigade choke on their free-range organic cornflakes.