The Archbishop of Canterbury on... mad old racist Uncle Tony

6th September 2024

WAKING with a headache screaming like a guitar solo by the late Jimi Hendrix, I proudly reflect on my efforts to put on a concert in which Noel and Liam Gallagher join me to perform acoustic versions of religious songs such as Kumbaya, My Lord.

I announced the concert would take place at Westminster Abbey in 2025, attaching various caveats to the statement: EVENT TO BE CONFIRMED, SUBJECT TO CANCELLATION, NO REFUNDS.

Only an idiot, I thought, would pledge their monies to such a dubious proposal. However I was dealing with Oasis fans, and tickets priced at anything from £750 (standing only) to £3,000 for front-row pews were sold out in two hours.

A tidy day’s work, all told, the profits of which will go to replenishing the church’s wine cellar.

That business happily concluded, I take a light breakfast and peruse a periodical. Therein I read that Tony Blair has weighed in on the issue of immigration post-Brexit. ‘We’ve swapped single people coming from Europe… for families from Asia and Africa. How has this helped us?’ he asked.

Fuck my giddy aunt, you pop-eyed, dried-out, dictator-fellating weirdo! Can you fucking hear yourself? What kind of mad racist Uncle have you become in your fucking old age? ‘We had white people before – now it’s just hordes of blacks.’ And did it occur to whoever was interviewing you not to sit there like fucking nodding dogs and maybe exclaim: ‘Fuck’s sake, Enoch, get a grip!’ Just goes to show there’s no one more fucking extreme than a centrist in this fucking confused day and age!

Kemi Badenoch, candidate for leader of the Conservative Party, has produced a video in response to her dispute with David Tennant, who lambasted her at the LGBT awards. ‘When you have that type of cultural establishment trying to keep Conservatives down, you need someone like me who’s not afraid of Doctor Who or whoever, and who is going to take the fight to them and not let them try and keep us down,’ she said.

I know it doesn’t matter who’s in charge of the Tory Party any more than it matters who’s leading the fucking Natural Law Party or the Lib Dems. But seriously, is it really a good idea to sound as if you can’t differentiate between reality and fiction? You’re in for some fucking bad news about Buzz Lightyear, is all I can say. And a feud with all-round nice guy David Tennant? I guess when you’re watching Dr Who with your mad Tory mates you’re rooting for the fucking Daleks, but really, Tennant? Why not just go the whole hog and and have a pop at fucking David Attenborough? I can just hear you now: ‘Something strange about a man who spends so much time hanging around with adult gorillas, don’t you think?’ I mean, fuck!

Former secretary of state for communities and local government Eric Pickles has ‘welcomed’ the inquiry into the Grenfell tragedy. ‘I thank the inquiry team for their diligence in a detailed examination of the Grenfell fire and hope the lessons learnt ensure that such a tragedy never happens again,’ he said. He currently sits in the House of Lords.

Yeah, it’s not the fucking House of Lords you should be sitting in, it’s a fucking prison cell with a 24-stone cellmate with a fucking glint in his eye! While cunts like you and your Tory mates – and let’s face it Labour are gonna be no fucking different – pander to corporate lobbyists and the building industry there’s every fucking chance this is gonna happen again! You’d have us living in fucking asbestos igloos if you thought you could get away with it! They should put cladding on the Houses of Parliament, we’d soon see a change then! Fuckers!

Finally, Andrew Tate has issued a curious message to his ‘haterz’, boasting about his living conditions. ‘Our house is the ultimate man cave,’ he wrote. ‘Police cant get in for 45mins while we smoke cigars because everythings bullet proof. We have a gym and a podcast studio and all we do is train and work. The dream. Not a gay ornament in site. Zero “home” feeling. ONLY WORK FEELING’.

Hahahahahaha. You risible, oiled-up, barely-literate fucking twunt! A man who basically lives in fear of his fucking balls being grabbed! You think anyone envies you your life? Sure, you’re all right for 45 minutes when the police decide to visit for some undoubtedly sex crime-related reason, but what happens after 50 minutes when they finally break in? All you’ve got to arm yourself is a burnt-out fucking cigar stub! Shame you’ve not got any gay ornaments, whatever they are. A statue of Liberace would be a handy weapon to fight off the cops, and you’d only look like slightly more of a fucking bellend than usual!

We won two world wars to put up with this bollocks: The gammon food critic visits a bierkeller

5th September 2024

Restaurant reviews by Justin Tanner, our retired food critic who’s having to pay for his winter holiday in Benidorm himself now the leftie bastards have stopped his fuel payments.

THIS might surprise you, but I’ve never had much time for the Germans. No sense of humour. Bloody awful electronic pop music. The food’s not fit to give the dog. And I haven’t even mentioned Hitler yet.

Third Reich notwithstanding, a night on the piss is a night on the piss, and a crowd from the pub are going to Birmingham for a ‘bierkeller night’ so I decide to give it a go. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. Only of course we did beat them. Twice. Three times if you count the 1966 World Cup. And loads more if you include things like El Alamein. I must remember to mention all this when we’re there.

I’ll never be able to stomach their bloody cuisine without a skinful though, so the first thing to do is get the beers in. I opt for the ‘Bierkeller Haus Bier’, which means ‘house beer’. Dunno why they don’t just use English. It’s described as ‘distinctly German’, like that’s a good thing. The SS were ‘distinctly German’ and look how that panned out. It’s palatable enough, but no match for a proper English beer like Stella.

Oddly enough, they’ve also got Belgian fruit beer, Spanish Madri and Czech Pravha too. Seems like they’re taking an unhealthy interest in neighbouring countries if you ask me. But strangest of all is ‘Das Boot’, a two-pint glass boot you get to take home with you. It’s like Cinderella for stormtroopers.

Onto the food, and another surprise – they do pizzas. I suppose the Italians handed over the recipes with the same whimpering lack of resistance they showed during the war. Which we won. Did I mention that?

Ever one for authenticity, I opt for the traditional German sausage, or ‘wurst’, menu. No argument over the name at least. It was the ‘wurst’ menu I’ve seen in my life! Which is hilarious but less so when you’re paying good money for it.

It’s essentially sausages in a brioche roll with ketchup (English), mustard (also ours), crispy onions and sauerkraut, or fermented cabbage. Not fancying a chronic dose of the shits in the morning to accompany my hangover, I meticulously pick that off.

A group next to us has ordered the ‘Wurst Parade’, which, rather than a reference to the Nuremberg rallies, is actually a smorgasbord of German sausages, sauerkraut again, fries, pretzels and dips. It reminds me of taking on one of those hideous culinary challenges on I’m A Celebrity. Although chowing down on raw monkey cock is more appealing.

Still, the ‘bier’ is flowing freely, so I decide it’s time for a good old traditional sing-song. Only to find myself unceremoniously asked to leave within minutes. Apparently a rousing chorus of ‘Two World Wars and One World Cup’ isn’t appropriate for a restaurant. Told you they had no sense of humour.