WAKING up with a hangover that causes me to emit several small pieces of my brain when I sneeze, I realise I have had a nightmare. I dreamt I was in my chambers, and looking in the mirror I was met with the face of an insipid, bespectacled fellow with a somewhat poorly defined jawline.
At that moment, one of my senior clerics burst into the room, clutching a mobile phone. ‘Archbishop Welby,’ he said. (Archbishop who?) ‘News has broken about your failure to report the prolific child abuser John Smyth. I fear you have no choice but to stand down.’
I was so confused I was unable to speak. ‘Resign, your grace!’ my cleric urged me. ‘It is over. You must resign today!’
Upon which I awoke with a start. The nightmare fresh in my mind, I headed straight for early morning mass at Westminster Abbey. My sermon ran as follows.
‘My dearest brethren,’ I said. ‘I just had the worst fucking dream. I dreamt I was some chinless cunt called Justin who’d been covering up for a nonce for years. Can you fucking imagine that? It’s a disgrace. You fuckers should be grateful you’ve got an archbishop with some morals. Now let’s sing a fucking hymn.’
The mass concluded, I return to my chambers to take a light breakfast and peruse a periodical. Therein I read that Donald Trump is appointing Matt Gaetz to the post of attorney general. Mr Gaetz had been under investigation for the sex trafficking of a 17-year-old girl.
Fuck me till my ears bleed, are we living in some sort of Batman movie minus fucking Batman, or what? A bunch of fucking comedy villains is about to run America! I mean, who next? The Penguin? Mr Freeze? Fucking Liz Truss? My only hope is that this bunch of clowns will be so ravingly incompetent that within a week they’ll have burned down the White House and tried to put out the fire with buckets of fucking tinsel! Holy fuck!
Andrew Doyle, the British comedian whose career is largely based on mocking social justice activists, is to teach a course on ‘wokeness’ at the New College of Florida.
Seriously? Saying what? Is taking the piss out of exaggerated cliches about ‘woke’ a fucking academic discipline now? How are you going to fill ten seconds, let alone a fucking hour? If you’re just gonna have a pop at people for being nice to each other instead of sneering at anyone different for having the temerity to exist, it’s gonna be a pretty fucking short lecture: ‘Pronouns are bad. I am talking tiresome reactionary shit. Class fucking dismissed.’
Wes Streeting has said he will sack NHS chiefs who do not meet the targets he has set them. However, he will not provide them with the funding required to meet said targets.
You know, of all the greasy, grifting, anti-Labour, dead-eyed hypocrites, craven line-toers, brazen hacks and mechanical fucking bullshit spouters who have taken over the fucking Labour party like briefcase-touting zombies, you, Streeting, are the fucking worst. You’re gonna sell off the NHS brick by fucking brick to the fucking vulture capitalists who feather your fucking nest! We see you a fucking mile off, and looking like a terminally annoying, precocious little 12-year-old shit isn’t fooling anyone.
Finally, this week saw the birthday of King Charles, who has turned 76 years of age.
Face it, you’re having a miserable time of it, aren’t you? You have to keep your mouth shut these days, rather than yapping merrily away on topics you know fuck all about from a perch of aristocratic fucking ignorance. You wear the crown like it’s an upturned fucking chamber pot on your head and you and your buck-toothed fucking son have been exposed as two of the worst leeches in the fucking country! The fucking game’s up! You couldn’t be less fucking popular if it turned out you went out every Sunday shooting your fleeing servants for fun on your fucking estate!
