WAKING and recovering from a temporary alcohol-induced loss of eyesight, I am astonished to espy two police officers and a fellow in a mitre, the spitting image of myself, standing by my bed.
‘There he is!’ cries my doppelganger. ‘Two years ago he abducted me, tied and bound me and locked me in the cellars of my own palace. This man is an impostor!’
I raise an eyebrow. ‘What is the meaning of this?’ I ask the officer in charge.
‘Well, his story seems very plausible. I must say, Your Grace, if that is indeed your honorific, your behaviour has at times struck me as un-Archbishop-like. The swearing, the drinking, the sermons promoting atheism, the booty calls to Gloria Hunniford…’
‘What is your name?’ I ask the man in the mitre.
‘Justin!’ he replies.
‘Justin who?’
‘Justin Timberlake! I am Justin Timberlake, Archbishop of Canterbury, King of Malta and Emperor of Uranus! Bwahahaha!’ Upon which he makes a strange clucking noise before being escorted from my chambers by the police, with their profuse apologies.
That little incident over and done with, I take a light breakfast and peruse a periodical. Therein, I read that Conservative MP Jake Berry has expressed shock that Easter eggs were on sale in the Haslingden branch of Tesco. ‘What is going on?’ he asks.
Mary Magdelene’s fuckflaps, what’s going on? Fucking capitalism is what’s going on, you silly cunt! The system that lines the pockets of you and your arsehole mates while slowly killing the rest of us! Seriously, have you nothing better in your poxy, shrivelled, narrowcast, walnut-in-vinegar right-wing mind to get up in arms about than this? Always looking at the fucking smaller picture, eh? Tell you what, never mind Easter coming early, what can’t come early enough is a general fucking election where you and your parasites are exterminated as a viable political party until the end of time!
Edwina Currie has spoken out against striking junior doctors, suggesting they measure value by the ‘smiles on the faces of those people that they’re able to help’ and ‘not by looking at their pay packets.’
Because when it comes to paying rent and utility bills, landlords will willingly take the smiles of patients in lieu of fucking currency! And let’s have a look at your pay packet while we’re at it, shall we, you very-much-less-than-key-worker! I’ll tell you one hospital worker who didn’t always bring a smile to the patients unlucky enough to be visited by him: your dear old mate Jimmy fucking Savile, to whom you gave the run of Broadmoor!
Former Mayoral candidate Baron Bailey of Paddington has lambasted Carol Vorderman, stating on GB News that her political commentary was incompatible with her possession of physical features. ‘If you look at her Instagram it’s all pictures of her bum and her boobs,’ he said, ‘so what is it, here? She can’t be both.’
Fucking hell. You howling, sexist, tit-hungry ignoramus. If Lord fucking Lucan were still alive he’d be embarrassed to share ermine with a cunt like you! It’s as well you’ve got a fucking arse as without it you’d have nothing to talk out of, you total, fully-comprehensive, no-claims-bonus-insured big-faced twat!
Finally, it seems Prince Andrew is mentioned in court documents in relation to the late Jacob Epstein, including the lurid claim he involved a puppet of himself in his activities. There is concern that these revelations could undermine attempts to rehabilitate the Prince.
Fuck, yeah, that’s my big concern – the maintenance of the fucking facade that the Royal Family aren’t a wretched, grasping, dysfunctional, barely-human bunch of cunts, and in one case, and I’m not saying it’s Prince Andrew, a nonce! Learned how to fucking sweat yet, Andy? Because if not, it’s high time! A fucking puppet of yourself! I bet even fucking Savile never whipped out a puppet of himself! Fuck upon fuck!
