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Downing Street renames Irish Sea the ‘EU Sea’ so they get the blame for everything Brexit

DODGE BALL : Downing Street has taken a decisive stride to distance itself from the problems associated with Brexit by way of a neat geographical side step.

The manoeuvre is part of the long running dance of Brexit. A traditional dance to which everyone now knows the moves, the most important of which for the British government is the avoidance of that ever present dance partner, blame.

“Consequence needs to be avoided at all costs to successfully complete the dance too,” a 10 Downing Street course said. “So too scrutiny, repercussions and accountability.”

The latest step is to rename the Irish Sea.

“Clearly we haven’t consulted the Irish. We may send a lackey over to talk to them about it if they get really hot under the collar over it. Lands and titles for their political leaders in Kent ought to sort it. If the pressure is really intense at home the PM may even go personally. But that would have to be a drastic state of affairs, such as a wine stain on a sofa or some other domestic furore he needs to avoid for a few days.”

The new name for the Irish Sea will be not cause any navigational issues for shipping, not just because of the reduced volume of it since Brexit.

“The Irish Sea is now the EU Sea. Consider it a gift from a friendly and outward looking Downing Street,” the source clarifies. “And this way when everything really goes to hell in a handcart the EU will get all the blame.”

Genius.

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Boris Johnson threatens to “Un-Win World War Two” if EU doesn’t cave on shellfish export ban

OPERATION BI-VALVE : The UK’s current wartime leader, Boris Johnson, is oft thought to be a man out of his time. The Restoration may have suited better? The 14th century perhaps? Plenty of plague to mismanage going around then. But here he is in the 21st century controlling the world’s dominate martial superpower.

Like any solid English statesman he finds himself having to school Johnny Foreigner. Those Continentals? Hey? When will they learn?

“It’s silly not to compromise your entire legal framework, which allows dozens of countries to co-exist peacefully, just to rob hardworking British fishermen of a few quid,” a 10 Downing Street source told LCD Views. “Someone should tell the French! And the Italians! And the Germans! And the Dutch! And the Nederlanders! And the people who live in Holland! And the Spanish! The Portuguese. Well, the list goes on. Who do they think they are? They need an exceptional teacher.”

Mr Johnson is clearly that and he is bringing out the big guns. It has nothing to do with the trouble he’s caused in Northern Ireland or the increasing stink of corruption about his government.

“It’s about standing up for Britons! They will take our fish in whatever state we decide. And if they do not Mr Johnson will un-win World War Two. That’ll show them. WW2 lives rent free in all the Conservative MPs minds. It will be especially easy to side with the fascists and stuff the lot of them.”

One World War and One World Cup? Take that unelected bureaucrats!

“Just look at all of our flags. We’ve already got ourselves right in position to see the hard right victorious, not just at home in Blighty, but across the Channel too.”

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Exploiting your contacts for profit is a benefit of success – why should politicians be exempt?

A successful businessman is successful precisely because he is able to spot opportunities others can not. And part of that success is to ensure that one’s secretary maintains one’s Rolodex. Over time, these contracts accumulate until one is in a position to telephone a chap to help one out in almost any scenario. 

Naturally, one has to give a little in return. However, if one secures a contract by offering a more substantial discount than the normal, then one can expect to secure repeat business and recommendations. And so the Rolodex swells, you gain a formidable reputation, and an enormous quantity of goodwill. Now one dies not rely on this goodwill by tawdry capitalisation. It must remain off the balance sheet. One does not boast. 

The true mark of success is when you no longer need to schmooze people at your London club, or ensure a round of golf with social climbing Johnny come lately types. 

Which brings us to David Cameron. One of the most successful and charismatic Prime Ministers since Sir Alec Douglas-Hume, he should have been set up for life. Politicians are traditionally exempted from exploiting their contacts in the name of profit, but there is no good reason why this should be. In any case, this restriction is generally more honoured in the breach than the observance. 

Cameron could have maintained a dignified profile. He could have earned his pocket money providing £50K dinners to aspiring types like Rishi Sunak and dear little Mark Francois. But his clumsy lobbying was crude and vulgar. This is not the way that one should trade upon one’s reputation. One is expected to place a number of calls, perform introductions, provide a sumptuous luncheon with fine wines, brandy, and cigars. One greases the wheels, to use the vernacular, and in return receives a six figure sum. 

But one must be discreet. One should be invisible. One should not allow the scandal-seeking gutter press to catch even a whiff. This is not their concern. And if, by misfortune or incompetence, one is discovered, then one must act with contrition. 

Cameron should be permitted to benefit from his contacts list, like anyone else. But his blundering has put our whole way of life under threat. 

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Michael Gove to star in remake of The Invisible Man

YOU SEE HIM HERE, YOU SEE HIM THERE: Transparency is at the heart of government. And many people have certainly seen through Michael Gove.

He seems to have vanished before our very eyes. Westminster rumours suggest that Gove has auditioned, successfully, to play The Invisible Man. Furthermore, the rumour mill suggests that Gove takes his method acting very seriously. To which end, he has dug out his faithful chemistry set.

To play invisible, you have to experience invisible. So it comes as no surprise to learn that the raw ingredients for a Vanishing Potion were recently delivered to Chez Gove. Here it is believed that the scientific marvel himself created the potion. After all, he is believed to have supplied most of the Conservative Party with his home-made turnip-based cocaine substitute.

Residents of the quaint village of Slugsby-in-the-Muck have reported a number of strange occurrences recently. Villagers have sometimes experienced a “presence”, as though detecting an unseen presence. Occasionally a figure in a long coat and dark glasses, wrapped in bandages, has been glimpsed at dusk. Objects have disappeared in mysterious fashion, sometimes before people’s very eyes. The only clue is a lingering air of smugness.

Another worrying incident is the sighting of Mrs Gove. Though not traumatic in itself, she has been observed, on her own, having an animated conversation. Normally this is passed off as a Daily Mail journalist working herself up into a bilious state. But recently it seems that the empty space next to her has been involved in the conversation.

What’s more, a disembodied voice has been heard in quieter corners of the village. While not unheard of in this corner of the world, this voice is unusual. Instead of random phrases, fossilised in time, it sounds like it is practising a speech. The promises contained within are as empty as the space occupied by the voice.

Filming is due to start as soon as lockdown restrictions permit. But the star of the show appears to have vanished.

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It’s time to give everyone who voted for Brexit a peerage

The people knew what they were voting for when they decided, in their wisdom, on the 23rd June 2016 to provide an overwhelming mandate for Brexit. All the Brexits. Whatever anyone wanted. In particular those that wished to rid themselves of rule by unelected bureaucrats. Lord Frost keeps a warm place in his heart for them in particular.

It can not be said that our political class was as certain, as evidenced by the attempts to undermine the will of the people in the years that followed. Happily scant attention was paid to financial irregularities and electoral crime or God knows what would have happened in the Mother of Parliaments.

Indeed, the likelihood of a confirmatory referendum on the eventual Brexit agreed was closer than anyone realised. Closer that is until Jo Swinson and Jeremy Corbyn in their collective wisdom saved democracy from itself. Working together in a glorious unconscious coupling in 2019 to torpedo the HMS GNU when it was still under construction in dry dock.

For this they are not given near enough credit. Happily, the wise words of Professor Professorin, provided below, held good.

“Democracy is not a process. It belongs to Rupert Murdoch” – British Politics and Lobotomies, by Professor Professorin, Mangled Press, 2019.

Now though it is time to recognise the people who voted for Brexit. Not Nigel Farage whose fame is assured. Not Boris Johnson even, who would have campaigned to replace the Houses of Parliament with actual cake if he believed it would put him in 10 Downing Street. No. Not them. Let us give thanks to the 17.4m who provided the mandate.

What would have happened if a few hundred thousand of them had bothered to use Google as a search engine to discover facts before voting?

I dread to think. All that wasted foreign money in our electoral process. It would have been a terrible case of buyer beware.

Brexit may never have happened. New technology would not now have a chance to be tested on rebuilt customs borders. Any Manuel, Figaro and Pierre could still just wander into our country with their skill sets. Any Tom, Dick and Harry could still just float over there to experience new cultures and deepen cross channel friendships. It’s a nightmare scenario. People who were not born to rule having the same intrinsic rights as those whose great ancestors worked hard for their wealth? Shudder.

It would not do and it did not do.

Now let us give our thanks as a nation in the only way possible. Let us make each 17.4m who voted for Brexit a Lord or a Lady. The House of Lords can easily accommodate them. Just look at the people Mr Johnson has jammed in there already?

The daily allowances for an additional 17.4m peers? Well it would be the equivalent of a minor PPE contract. Just ask Matt Hancock. Best to Whatsapp him.

And this way, when the effluent begins to hit the wind turbines, and the crunch votes finally return to a parliament shuddering out of a coma, we will have sufficient unelected lawmakers to ensure that Brexit can never be undermined.

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David Cameron accused of taking financial advice from Nigel Farage

FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS : The UK’s greatest ever prime minister, DAVID CAMERON, is in the news and it’s not because he’s refurbished the ‘shepherd’s hut shed’ he famously spent the average, annual salary on after cutting and running from office.

The current story revolves around a long running financial deal he cooked up with an old mate, and expected the public to front money for so he could cash in.

How David ‘hug a hoodie’ Cameron and his mate Lex Luthor (maybe Lex Greensill?) decided on such a disastrous series of murky dealings isn’t entirely clear. But we here at LCD Views are always ready to fabricate an alleged explanation.

“They took financial advice from Nigel Farage,” our fintech whizz kid suggests. “It would explain everything. International cooperation. Disastrous public outcomes. Loss of money. Failure of any benefits to materialise. A reputation so tarnished no amount of polish will ever recover it. This deal gone sour has the classic hallmarks of Farage all over it.”

Whether or not the accusation carries any weight is not yet clear. It is probably as lightweight as Mr Cameron himself.

“We should clap for him,” our expert suggests. “We all know that’s what people need instead of cash. Claps. I’ll do one right now for free.”

Hopefully for Dave the chumocracy will encircle him and he’ll find himself a safe harbour and a new beginning, as befits a visionary who imposed austerity on the country, ripening the resentments at avoidable injustices to such a temperature for Brexit to happen.

“He could try retraining in cyber? Or as a ballerina?” our expert muses. “It’s a bit rum when you think about it. All he has been trying to do is leverage his contact book for egregious personal profit, as befits a former prime minister.”

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Dominic Raab to decree an official period of mourning lasting from sunrise until lunchtime

MOURNING HAS BROKEN: Dominic Raab will today announce a national period of mourning. It will last, he will say, from the time you wake up until the time you have your mid-day meal.

In times past, that master of the public mood, Chris Grayling, would have been wheeled out to reassure the nation. Since his demise in a bizarre gardening accident, Raab has taken on his mantle with aplomb.

It is in sad times such as these that we, The British People, look to our leaders to set the tone. Fortunately our beloved Foreign Secretary is the ideal candidate. He has been taking extra lessons in setting the tone from Matt Hancock.

But Raab needs no further encouragement. He is a man who naturally inspires confidence. There is something majestic about the sweaty forehead, the throbbing vein in the temple, the raabbit in the headlights stare.

Additionally, you need look no further than his monumental achievements. Raab, you will remember, single handedly discovered the excessive amount of UK trade that passes through the Dover-Calais route. Although this is much diminished these days, thanks to Raab’s secondary discovery that red tape streamlines trade to the point of elimination.

Keen readers will also recall his inspirational handling of Northern Ireland. This is a sensitive area, requiring careful diplomacy, but Raab’s approach was innovative. Innovative to the point of not actually reading the Good Friday Agreement. Well, in his defence, it is a full 35 pages long, and Boris Johnson himself can only manage two pages at a time. (Other Agreements are available.)

So we as a nation will mourn. We will lower our flags as we lower our tone. We will all wear our Sunday best Union Jack pattern suits. Then in the afternoon it will be fine to return to angry nationalism and throwing patriotic petrol bombs.

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Downing Street orders all Union Flags lowered to half mast in Tory MPs’ living rooms

CHAOS ENSUES : 10 Downing Street have ordered all Tory MPs to lower the flags in their living rooms to half mast out of respect.

The special order was given out a little after midnight last night when it occurred to one of the prime minister’s drinking companions that they’re all going to look “bloody disrespectful” doing media interviews for two weeks at full mast.

While the order itself is uncontroversial and a traditional sign of respect, it has immediately led to mass trauma.

No lesser light than Mark Francois is said to have been the first casualty after getting his pinky caught in the rope attempting to lower his flag. Reports say he almost fainted and was only saved by the fact he was so close to the floor already.

He wasn’t the only one though. Rumours say that Matt Hancock nearly drowned. It’s well known he does all his Zoom interviews from his toilet. While lowering his Union Flag the leading edge slipped into the bowl and became wet.

“It was like watching a recreation of D Day,” an anonymous source related. “He dove headfirst into the bowl to save his country’s honour. Only he became wedged and when his hands flailed about to find purchase to prize himself out he accidentally flushed. Still. Respect. We all know the high regard he holds for those men who died on those beaches.”

Those two weren’t individual cases however. The Home Secretary is said to have had trouble undoing the knot on her flag pole and simply got a pair of shears and cut the flag in half.

“She’s now looking for an asylum seeker to blame,” a source says. “Clearly if word gets out that she’s desecrated the Union Flag with her actions she’ll be promoted. She’s having too much fun in her current role.”

Several MPs are said to have turned up at A&E departments across England, having lowered the flag fully by accident and then decided to have a go at pole dancing.

“It’s grim,” a trauma surgeon told LCD, off the record. “I’ve seen bad spinal injuries in my time but a patriotic trauma like this? Recovery will be prolonged. And what about the flags? WON’T SOMEONE THINK OF THE FLAGS?”

It’s believed the calamity has led now to a total media blackout for two weeks so no one has to be faced with the embarrassment of flags in living rooms that can’t physically be lowered out of respect.

“Let’s just hide,” a 10 Downing Street source said. “For the prime minister it’s an opportunity too good to miss.”

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It’s time Remainers apologised for forcing the divisive EUref on our country

Humble pie is a dish best served cold, so the famous French saying goes, after translation into a more useful language.

It was first recorded in the minor literary work “Liasons Legerement Risques” by a long forgotten Continental author. It is likely to have been stolen from an English language work, but that is just par for course. It is well known the French harbour a millennia long envy of the English. This was best expressed in 1066.

The true born Englishman is known to have a rather more sanguine temperament. and to be more generous of spirit. If you doubt that fact you need merely consider the great effort taken in the Victorian era to give uncivilised countries their own railways.

No need for humble pie there! Just follow the directions of Mr Johnson’s sage and thoughtful government and acknowledge the undisputed, undiluted munificence of the British Empire.

Where there is cause for a wholesome serving of humble pie is in the tiresome discussions around Brexit.

I don’t know about you but I am still waiting patiently for a remoaner to apologise for forcing the country to hold the EU referendum in the first instance.

Now more than any period since, as the very Union of our country creaks and splinters as a direct result of the flawed Brexit they forced upon us, now would be a good time to say sorry.

We only had to hold the advisory referendum in the first place because the pro-European Union traitors in our midst would not stop carping on about the imagined pitfalls of full sovereignty.

And where are they now? As the bus burns in Belfast? Have you heard a single traitor say sorry? And this as I stand here with the fists of reconciliation clenched openly tight. Red of face. Heart pumping. Is it so hard for Remainers to just say “Sorry we did not just step straight out of the EU and establish a hard border on Ireland”?

Of course the real damage they did by forcing us to hold the referendum was what resulted afterwards.

Brexit was supposed to be a smash and grab of the world’s financial systems. Had we just done the deed as daylight bank robbery no one would have had time to do anything but acknowledge that we did indeed hold all the cards.

And now where do we find ourselves? Waiting with the dog eared patience bestowed upon us by the Almighty for Remainers to say that hardest of words.

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Why Labour needs a buffoon as leader

Labour cannot hope to progress under its current management. But if the Labour Party were ever to think seriously about becoming a political force in the UK, they must adapt with the times. The days of worthy but dull lawyers with forensic questioning skills are over. The Labour Party needs a buffoon as its leader. Send in the clowns!

Look at how well this approach has worked for the Conservative Party. Nowadays, of course, “conservative” is a dirty word in Conservative circles. The Tories have proved the most progressive party in recent years. The grey men have become showmen, and the greatest showman is of course Boris Johnson. Politically, the man is nowhere, but in the modern arena this is unimportant. Style has triumphed over substance, and until Labour learns this lesson it is doomed to failure.

It is not certain where this lefty buffoon may come from. Starmer is merely a throwback to the long-departed dreary competence of a Major or a Brown. Corbyn was worse: a throwback of a throwback, who never developed from being a shouty rebel at a Ban The Bomb rally. To stand a chance of even competing, Labour must drop worthy policy in favour of three word slogans. It must stop trying to sound reasonable, nobody wants that. It needs a vacuous fool to shout the first thing that comes into his head while waving a fish in the air. That is what the people want.

And note, it must be he, not she. Think of prominent left wing women, like Kate Hoey, Julia Hartley-Brewer, Arlene Foster. Not a trace of a sense of humour in any of them. No, you need a man, preferably a seedy aging Lothario who pleasures much younger women in a vain attempt to recapture his youth. A man, whose mere appearance and demeanour are comical.

Labour needs to be funny. Crack a joke, Keir! Tell us a rambling anecdote and lose your thread! Turn up to work drunk!

And then the Tories will really tear into you.