BRITAIN has been warned to wind down its jubilee partying, with many celebrants now having been seven nights without sleep.
Hordes of desperate glassy-eyed revellers in filthy Union Jack hats still line the Mall, convulsively waving flags as they continue to ingest alcohol and drugs.
Lionel Richie, now naked expect for a Weetabix box jammed on his head, has been performing acappella rave anthems on a makeshift stage while the Red Arrows, most of whom can barely stand, are preparing to fly through the British Museum for their own twisted amusement.
A government spokesman said: It’s time for everyone to go home. Seriously, before we get the army out.
Admittedly when you tell a nation of mostly-unemployed drunkards it’s going to be ‘the best party ever’ you might expect it to get a little rowdy. But I’ve just seen Rolf Harris being cooked on a spit by a group of children in Kate Middleton masks.
Although their camera crew left days ago, a gurning Fearne Cotton and Lenny Henry are still narrating events as they unfold, occasionally pausing to interview each other about what it would be like if you could peel back the sky and see the inner workings of the universe.
Royal fan Donna Sheridan said: I’m not ready to go home yet! It’s fucking banging here.
I’ve just had a shit in a bin.
