WAKING up with a hangover whose throbbing vibrations cause dogs to bark across the Borough of Westminster, I read with some concern that fewer people now go to their parish church than attend a Catholic mass.
I decide to act at once, issuing a memo to my staff. ‘Okay you fuckers, we’re in danger of dropping a bollock to the left footers here,’ I write. ‘It’s no wonder these sneaky twats have overtaken us in the popularity stakes. They’re dishing out free wine. Free wine before fucking lunchtime.
‘Well, we can top that. They give out free wine, we’ll give out free rum. And not just the weak supermarket crap, the proper, overproof stuff, capeesh? Just find some theological justification for it. Get reading those fucking Bibles, there’s bound to be something somewhere. It’s all a load of fucking mumbo jumbo anyway.’
And so, confident that my inspired initiative will restore the Church of England to its former fortunes, I take a light breakfast and peruse a periodical. Therein I read that Paddington Bear has been issued with an official passport by the Home Office, instead of the replica requested by the makers of Paddington in Peru.
Jesus Christ’s stiff fucking wanksock, I suppose this is meant to show that the fucking Home Office has a fucking heart, an organ signally lacking in its dealings with human beings over the last few decades. All it does is show what a fucking terminally whimsical, fucked-in-the-head cunt of a country we are. Not only do we care more about fucking animals than people, we care more about fucking fictional animals than people! Perhaps all these refugees who keep drowning at sea should try rocking up with some fucking marmalade sandwiches?
King Charles has made a state visit to Samoa, where he took part in a traditional kava-drinking ceremony watched by heavily-tattooed Samoans and was declared a ‘high chief’ of the Pacific island nation.
Haha, this is more fucking like it, eh, Charlie? Twatting around with obsequious natives, keeping the fucking show rolling by making a tit of yourself for the tabloids! Better than being told to give Australia back to the people it actually belongs to, eh, you thieving imperial cunt? All you need now is to bring the Three Degrees out of retirement for a disco dance and it’ll be like fucking old times. And without that Sloane Ranger bint you never fucking wanted to marry!
Nigel Farage has accused Labour of ‘direct interference’ in the US election after it emerged that more than 100 current and former staff will campaign for the Democrats.
Oh, I fucking see! Not like you, then, who flew out to the States and booked yourself five nights in an executive suite up Donald Trump’s fucking arse? It’s nothing but fucking grift with you, isn’t it? Time and again you’re shown to be talking absolute bollocks, and get that bollocks thrown right back in your fucking rubbery face, but back you come for more! It’s as if digesting bollock after bollock gives you fucking strength! You’re the living fucking reason the BBC should be abolished and replaced with a 24-hour loop of fucking Tom And Jerry cartoons!
Finally, Sir Keir Starmer has met with Palestinians who lost family in Gaza and spoken of how ‘humbled’ he was by their ‘immeasurable grief’.
Really? How very fucking sincere-sounding of you. If only there were something you could do about it? You know, like not selling Israel the fucking arms to incinerate Palestinian civilians? Or maybe tell Joe Biden to shove his genocide up his fucking shrivelled, dead turkey arse? (Okay, you might want to phrase it slightly differently.) It’s a pity you’re not prime minister or something, isn’t it? But you are a two-faced, superficially pious, flag-shagging, right-wing, flabby-faced, shortarsed, button-eyed, shameless, soulless, lying, shit-voiced fucking psychopath who has as much business being in charge of the fucking Labour party as the fucking corpse of Margaret Thatcher! Yeah, I’m not a fan.
