WAKING with a hangover so intense I have my secretary make inquiries with the Swiss authorities as to whether they provide assisted decapitation, I recall my recent run-in with Elon Musk.
All was going well with my pastoral care when a headline came to dominate the news schedules: ‘ELON MUSK SAYS PRESENT ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY NOT THE MAN FOR THE JOB’. Apparently, he was of the opinion that my position should be given to Andrew Tate.
Happily, the multitudes of Britain swarmed to my defence. ‘You drink to outrageous excess, swear voluminously and are a hypocritical atheist, but no Nazi man-child billionaire cunt is going to tell us who our fucking Archbishop should be,’ was a particularly comforting message from Gloria Hunniford.
I kept my counsel until my Sunday sermon. I warned the congregants that I was about to make my views clear, perhaps shockingly so, and those of a sensitive nature may wish to leave. They did not.
Clambering atop the pulpit and jutting my buttocks toward the congregation, I said: ‘This is my message to Mr Musk.’ Then, fuelled by a high-fibre diet and three days of lavatorial abstinence, I excreted an atypically large, some might say ‘monstrous’, turd.
A pause, then a hearty round of applause, then a standing ovation, then the unusual sound of rowdy cheering in the abbey.
With a wry smile I take a light breakfast and peruse a periodical. Therein, I read that Facebook/Meta supremo Mark Zuckerberg has decided to remove fact-checkers from his social media site.
Fuck me with a spiky sink plunger, that’s gonna make a fuck of a lot of difference! It’s news to most of us you had fact checkers! Is it because your site is an unflushed toilet of fake news, scams and racist twaddle from demented elderly relatives? What were these fact-checkers doing all day, sleeping on bean bags and playing fucking ping-pong in one of your brightly-coloured San Francisco cunt hubs? Here’s a fact there’s no one to check now: you are the pitiful spawn of a sexual liaison between your mother and a fucking hamster, whose penis size you inherited, resulting in a psychopathic grudge against humanity you can only satisfy by making the internet even fucking shitter!
Kemi Badenoch has demanded that the government hold an inquiry into child grooming, despite her own party having held just such an inquiry and failing to act on any of its recommendations.
You know, you make me yearn for the fucking Churchillian statesmanship of Liz Truss, you really do! Did you have your shame surgically removed like a fucking appendix or something? The word ‘useless’ is woefully inadequate to describe you. It needs to be decommissioned and replaced with the word ‘Badenochian’. From hereon, when Spurs are watching their backline of clowns fall on invisible banana skins at key moments, fans should be shouting: ‘You Badenochian bunch of cunts!’ When customers are penning exasperated emails to British Gas because no twat ever answers the phone, they should be writing: ‘Refund me, you Badenochian, Badenochian, Badenochian fuckers!’
‘Ignore Musk, ignore the critics – you’ll feel the benefit of Labour’s policies in your pocket before long,’ Polly Toynbee wrote this week in The Guardian.
Jesus H Cunt on a wankstick, you really are the most gullible, vacuous, docile, pitifully optimistic victim of wallet inspections by the crooks, cynics and liars currently running this fucking country, aren’t you? The same shitty centrist message you’ve been putting out for fucking years now: ‘Wait, just wait, Keir will come good any month soon! He’s not a flabby-faced, paralysed heap of authoritarian do-nothingness surrounded by hacks who only joined Labour to fuck Labour! And I’m sure the gentleman who took my wallet for inspection will be back in an hour, just as he promised!’
Finally, ex-Tory minister Michael Gove has written in the Spectator that he believes the Israel Defense Forces should be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for their efforts in Gaza.
Yeah, keep trolling away at that fucking scumsheet The Spectator, Mikey! Go to their summer garden party and chortle with Laura Kuenssberg and Labour Party frontbenchers and fellow Tory shitheads! Jolly it up while kids are used as target practise by the IDF and write eye-catching articles in praise of genocide! Although I am in no way a Christian, I can see the appeal of belief in an afterlife. Specifically if it involves you, Michael, going straight to Hell and having your balls roasted like chestnuts, and worse, for infinity. Perhaps having every unsold copy of The Spectator in history – and that is a lot of Spectators – rammed up your arse? Just a suggestion.
