The Archbishop of Canterbury on... arseholes wearing Rolexes

WAKING with morning breath that has literally burnt a hole in my pillow, I rub my bleary eyes and look back on the initiative I set in place last week. 

Following remarks that far right groups in the UK were ‘un-Christian’, I have taken further steps by seeing to it, with alacrity, that every C of E church has a plaque screwed to its entrance door reading: NAZIS FUCK OFF.  A pithy and eye-catching slogan in keeping with the spirit of the times.

To further bolster this new zero tolerance policy, following the closing credits of Songs of Praise all presenters, including Gloria Hunniford, myself, and a choir of children of all races and creeds gathered on Salisbury’s Cathedral Close to chorus ‘Nazis fuck off’ in unison.

Smiling with satisfaction at our pithy and moving message, I breakfast and read that former BBC presenter Desmond Lyman has opined that women, on account of their gender, are in no position to comment on men’s football. He had previously criticised women pundits as ‘grating’.

Fuck me purple, it’s sad when someone you thought of as the nation’s favourite uncle turns out to be a stupid, bigoted, fossilised, Christmas dinner-ruining cunt of a twat. He’s fucking 81, people! Never ask anyone over 80 about fucking anything, have we not learned? For years we had Frank fucking Bough in the uncle role until he was undone for dressing in women’s lingerie and snorting coke – no fucking harm in that so long as it wasn’t during Grandstand – but at least he didn’t spout Jurassic bollocks!

In the wake of the far-right riots, Labour grandee Margaret Hodge has said that Labour are ‘too afraid’ to talk about immigration.

Oh, for fuck’s sake, you appalling prune, Labour in this wretched incarnation has done nothing but talk about immigration in a desperate attempt to woo the worst wankers in Britain! You think they should actually up the ante? They’ve put out so many dog whistles they couldn’t be less subtle about their anti-migrant stance if they doused themselves in aniseed! Should they bring back the Controls On Immigration mugs and make it into an entire fucking tea set? Attack racist parties by becoming more racist, the one fucking idea of your wretched political career! Not everyone jumps backwards like Basil Fawlty meeting a black doctor in the Germans episode, you godawful, repugnant crone!

Sir Jim Radcliffe, billionaire co-owner of Manchester United, says he feels unsafe in London and has decided to stop wearing his luxury watches there because of rising crime.

Not that you remotely are, except in your own Brexit-addled mind, but a parasitical, tax-avoiding, immiserating cunt like you fucking should feel unsafe! If someone nicks a watch that costs the same as feeding a family for a fucking decade, I’m not gonna break into a trot to chase after them! What sort of ostentatious smear of semen needs a luxury watch anyway? Does it tell exclusive, platinum time as opposed to the economy-grade time the rest of us get with our Casios? Stupid fucking prick!

Finally the Daily Mail’s Andrew Pierce has castigated Imane Khelif, who has issued a lawsuit against JK Rowling and Elon Musk among others, on ITV’s Good Morning Britain. ‘Just look at her,’ he said.

Fuck me upside down, backwards and Norwegian, ‘look at her’? Look at you, you shrivelled, poisonous, desiccated, twisted, ashen, bloodless, sneering, dead-eyed, churlish, rat-faced, sunken, weird-lipped, arseless, salt pillar of sheer fucking odium! Tell you what, Khelif, while you’re suing cunts throw this fucker on the fucking pile! What the fuck has happened to Good Morning Britain? Bigotry for breakfast every fucking day! Just junk the set in a skip, put on old episodes of Minder or whatever, and serve up anything but this toxic fucking toss!

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Oh, Elon. Pro-Trump, pro-riots – drop the electric car nonsense and you're the billionaire of every woman's dreams

By Abigail Pennson, our reasonable, plain-speaking middle-class columnist who threw a table through Shoe Zone’s window in spirit

I KNOW I’m not the only one. Across the West, his sexy civil warmongering and daredevil backing of Trump has hordes of women hot for Elon. 

Those wonderfully venal, porcine eyes, that slicked-back Wall Street predator hair, that impish sense of humour. But more than that, more even than his money, we’re wet downstairs for his politics.

Unashamedly right-wing? Unafraid to cheer on violence? Sitting up late and dreaming of civil war? To quote Meg Ryan in When Harry Banged Sally, ‘Yes, yes, yes!’

He’s already won himself at least a bout of elevator oral for destroying the ivory tower of liberalism that was Twitter, leaving the left with nowhere to plot the internment and forced transing of every white for race crimes.

Instead it’s become a digital crossroads where the like-minded can meet and plan peaceful protests which only became violent when the woke police provoked them by acting like they were the bad guys.

There is that single flaw. Making money from ripping off the credulous is obviously acceptable – it’s been Trump’s wholly admirable career – but electric cars? Really, Elon, aren’t you too old for toys?

No man with a dick big enough to swing will ever been seen in a milk float, climate change has been categorically disproven by people who aren’t even scientists, and Nikola ‘David Bowie’ Tesla was nothing but a heavily-accented foreigner with unbefittingly large ideas.

Drop the cars. Sell the business to idiots who believe electricity could ever power anything. Spend those billions on Donald’s ascension to president-for-life. Reserve a little slice to foster a UK ethnic conflict that will put the Bosnian War to shame.

Do that and every woman west of Ness Point will be yours for life. Pussy, as they say in the wonderful playground you’ve made of X, in bio.