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When I say 'will of the people' I mean about 60 twats sitting behind me, explains Sunak

RISHI Sunak has clarified that when he stated yesterday that his Rwanda bill was ‘the will of the people’, he did not mean the actual people.

The ‘people’ to whom the prime minister was referring were in fact a small but vociferous gaggle of timewasting, red-faced Tory backbench loons who he is too spineless to tell to f**k off.

Sunak said: “I was sending out a very clear message to the House of Lords that they would be making a grave mistake if they were to go against the will of Mark Francois, Suella Braverman and that monkey man from Stoke.

“It’s not that the Rwanda policy is good. It’s unworkable, illegal and completely irrelevant to the vast majority of Britons. Even dyed-in-the-wool racists realise it’s crap.

“But what sort of democracy would we be if we paid attention to every Tom, Dick and Harry, as opposed to every Mark, Lee and other halitosis-ridden halfwit who gets right up in my face in the House of Commons lobby?

“So yes, when I say ‘the people’, I don’t mean those funny little insects I can see on the ground from my helicopter. I mean my borderline fascist colleagues I have to fellate on a daily basis to keep this pointless Conservative shitshow going.

“Who the hell knows what the ‘will of the people’ is anyway? Probably troughs in every Greggs so they can go down on all fours to feed, like the disgusting pigs they are.”

Why is feckless Harry not tending to his father's prostate gland? By Sarah Vine

THE first duty of any son is to care for his elderly father’s prostate. Unless you’re Harry, who is nowhere to be seen when he should be soothing Charles’ inflamed spunk gland.

While Prince William rushes to Kate’s side, Harry would rather make a fool of himself with his celebrity ‘friends’ like George Clooney and Joss Stone. If James Blunt suffered painful rectal inflammation, you can bet Harry would be there like a shot.

Harry owes a debt of gratitude to the Royal prostate. Without it Charles could not have produced the milky fluids necessary to transport his spermatozoa to Diana’s demure ova. And now she is dead, never to be impregnated again. Did you consider that, Harry? I sincerely doubt it.

I don’t claim to be an expert on prostate problems, but would it be asking too much for the ginger ingrate to sit by his father’s bedside with a stick dipped in cooling calamine lotion, ready to be inserted into the Royal anus at Charles’ request?

Harry and Meghan are worth an estimated $60 million. They could easily afford a cool box and a stock of Mini Milk ice lollies, the ideal shape and temperature for our beloved King’s troubled rectum.

But in the Sussexes’ glamorous circle everyone is too perfect to suffer a burning sensation while urinating. A word in your shell-like, Harry – Lena Dunham has a spasming bladder. What do you think of your fake Tinseltown world now?

And what of the British nation? As we sit with our ears pressed to our wireless sets, anxiously awaiting news of the prostate, Harry has betrayed us again, a traitor to the Crown who deserves to be strung up like Lord Haw-Haw. 

I wish Harry no ill. Like scorpions, he and his shrewish wife only do what is in their evil natures. But when he is old, I hope his prostate explodes with the force of a hand grenade. Only then will he know the true meaning of ‘duty’.

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