In a capricious show of gross overreaction today, the Battle Group Mean Muthafucka, lead by the aircraft carrier USS Big Bad Sonofabitch, steamed into UK territorial waters, or more specifically, the poorly combined clothing side of the English Channel, blockading the comatose coastal town of Dontlikeit Upham and causing panic amongst the local populace, who reacted by pausing for half a mo in between sips of tea.

Lord High Protector and Witchfinder General of the Free World (sic), President Ronald McDonald Trump had ordered the battle group to the UK in order to bring to heel the once-but-no-longer meek n’ mild sleeping partner in the cosy, ring-around-a-rosy special relationship that had existed since various powerful Masonic lodges decided to create the Good Ol’ US of A. This was in response to the Queen ordering Bobby ‘Boris’ Pickett Johnson sent to the Tower for telling porky pies to Ma’am about the proroguing of Parliament.

Bonfires were lit along the south coast of England and, upon seeing them, the commander of the US Marine Rapid Slaughter of Innocent Civilians Response Force, Major-General George Armstrong Cowardy Custer VI, was heard to exclaim: “Well shuck ma britches. Let’s go massacre some injuns!”

Fearful of a counterattack by the elite British STS (Special Tea Service), the US War Cabinet had been whisked off to their underground bunker in the top secret location of Turdsville, Ohio (1/12th scale model available on Amazon for $49.99) and an emergency session was convened, the classified list of participants being:

Chief of Staff, Rear-Admiral (ex-Navy Baby Seal), Chuck Squarejaw McGraw

Special Advisor for Annexing the Solar System, Benjamin Netanyahoo.com

Special Advisor on Uniforms for the Armed Forces, Generalia Melania ‘Za-Za’ Trumpette

National Insecurity Advisor, John ‘Hang ‘Em High n’ Let ‘Em Dangle’ Bolton

Head of Blowing Things to Bits, Werner ‘It’s Not Exactly Rocket Science’ von Eva Braun III

Vice-President and Chief Liason with the Big Guy Upstairs, Mike ‘Saint Michael’ Pence

Secretary of State, Mike ‘Last Days of’ Pompeo.

Kim Jong-un Kardashian (Genetic Aumentation Masterace Division)

Director of the CIA, Kanye Tell Me What I’m Talking About West

Unarmed Catering Combat Coordinator, Steven ‘Lipreader’s Nightmare’ Seagal

Satan

President No-Trumps kicked off proceedings with: “We’ve just Received this Video Message from General Custard. It’s Great. Ya gonna Love it. It’s Fantastic. Play it.”

“I love the smell of freshly-bludgeoned Brits in the morning. About a mile out, I’ll put on the music. I play Beethoven’s 9th, mah boys love it. It scares the hell outta Nigel Farage. Some day this Brexit’s gonna end.”

Insecurity Advisor Bolton chipped in: “That’s great! Let’s kick some redcoat ass!”

President Trump: “You know John, you look like that Ted fella in the Movies, but with a Moustache. He’s Funny but your Moustache is Fake. You’re fired!”

John Bolton slumped off, muttering “I’m gonna have that Mark Wahlberg whacked.”

Generalia Melania chimed in: “Do ze Breeteesh still vear de redcoatz? Red iz in zis seazon. I vant to show you ze new accessoriez zat I haf designed for ze new ooniforms. Zey are sooo divine, darrlinks.”

Satan piped in with: “Our guys should wear all red. Red uniforms, red helmets, red boots, red underwear. I love red. I wear it all the time.”

Steven Seagal added: “Yerrr cnn shvve yer rdd yooonifmms whrre thrre snn dnnt shnne.”

Werner von Eva Braun III: “Vhat? Vhy doez he mumble zo much? I zink ve should launch more rrocketz right now. I love ze rocketz. Vhat beautifuul muzic zey make.”

President Trump pursed his lips and absent-mindedly wiped some dirt off his shoes with his tie: “Ok, I didn’t Understand any of That. Let’s Hear what the Director of the CIA has to say…Kanye?”

“I can improve Beethoven’s 9th. I can make it so that your ears drop off when you listen to it. I want to die with my ears attached to my head.”

“Yeah….err, thanks Kanye.” Trump rolled his eyes and pointed to his temple. “Ok, VP Mike, what’s God got to Say About all of This?”

“Well, Mr. President, He said we should all pray.”

“Pray, pray, pray…He Always says that. Hell, what do I Pay you for? You’re Fired!” Satan’s pointed ears pricked up at the mention of his abode.

Mike Pompeo remonstrated: “Mr. President, you’re can’t fire the VP. There’d be no-one to replace you in case of…”

President Trump: “Replace me? That No-body Pence? I am Trump. I am unplace…I am irrripla…I am…what’s the word? I am Fantastic. I’m Appointing Myself VP…as well as the P…I’ll be the VPP…or the PVP. I need to Take a Pee.”

Pompeo persisted: “But Mr. P…”

Trump: “And now that I’ve got Two Jobs, you can Have two, too…”

Generalia Melania: “A tu-tu? I loffe ze ballet.”

Trump: “…you’re now Insecurity Advisor too. No extra Pay though.

Pompeo: “But Mr….ermm VPP, that’s not fair…”

Trump: “Not fair? You’re fired too! Where’s Ivanka? Get me Ivanka now! She can Do 18 Jobs at the same time. She’s a Trump.”

Kim Jong-un Kardashian woke up at this point and said to the VPP in a bored, languid voice: “I dreamt that we opened a tie shop together.”

Trump turned to Benjamin Netanyahoo.com with an exasperated look on his face and asked him: “Should we Annex the UK? I could Turn it into a one big Golf Resort.”

Netanyahoo.com opined: “A fine idea, Mr. VPP. And an offshore tax haven. And we’ll make the Isle of Wight into a refugee camp. After I’ve finished annexing Jupiter, I’ll get right on it.”

Trump: “The Isle of Wight? That sounds Racist and I haven’t got a Racist bone in my Body. Change it to the Isle of Trump. You’re the best Ben. You’re a Great Guy. I wanna Kiss you.”

Chuck Squarejaw McGraw was hopping around impatiently: “Can I kill something now, Mr. President…please, pretty please?”

“Mercosur” – what the hell is that? A new shopping mall on the south side of town? That crazy new dance invented by Angela Merkel…”for goodness sakes, she’s got the hippy, hippy shakes…”? Sorry Angela, but when you wear exactly the same kind of suit for 20 years, you’re fair game. Have a tot of schnapps, poppet; that’ll calm your nerves. But seriously, Angie baby, if your health is suffering (it must be pretty stressful being a world leader) then quit now instead of whenever you are going to quit. Enjoy life, buy some new dresses, take English classes, go backpacking in Botswana…

Mercosur is a bloc of South American nations; Argentina, Uruguay, Brazil and Paraguay and, with perfect timing, this bloc has just agreed a free trade deal with the EU, a deal that will open up a market for goods and services for 800 million people. Great news, wonderful glad tidings for all…except the UK of course, which is surely ruing now the decision to leave the EU, especially after this august and completely democratic organisation signed a similar agreement with Japan last year (but only affecting a mere 600 million souls and a third of the world’s GDP). But we don’t care about all that, do we Brits? We’re stoic and unflappable and…well, British, by jove, so we’ll muddle on through and carry on regardless. Think of the war: taking shelter from those Jerry bombers; making do on an egg, half a cabbage, a teaspoon of flour and 2oz of gristle each week.  Missing out on these trade deals? Well, don’t worry; we’ll sign our own, goddamit. Just as soon as Boris the Bold and Beautiful signs dear old Blighty out of the Union of Johnny Foreigner Freeloaders and back into being a Sceptered Isle, then he can get down to the joyful business of arranging trade deals with those countless countries that are champing at the bit to sign on the dotted line….or not. That rugger-brained, tousle-haired, roister-doister Boris hardly did us proud when he was Foreign Secretary. Boris’ minister of state was given the monicker “Pooper scooper” as he was forever having to clear up his master’s mess. Boris seemed more concerned about making insulting jokes than taking the time to get clued up on the issue at hand. If you are bemused by Donald Trump’s governing by twitter, get ready for a full column of Boris’ Latin meanderings in the Telegraph.

Yes I know, Boris isn’t the Tory leader/Prime Minister yet, but his party obviously want a personality at the helm. Anyone who will stop a general election happening and the ghastly, wrist-slashing dread of Jeremy in No. 10.

Oh hang on a mo…reading a bit more about the EU/Meercosur deal…say what!? It took 20 years to negotiate. 20 bloody years?! Yer ‘avin’ a laff, aintcha? What the hell were they doing all that time? Did they stop the negotiations to head off down the pub or have a kickaround in the park and forget what time it was? Did they only negotiate for 3 minutes a day? Negotiators must have died/quit to join the Red Cross/had babies/had a sex change/retired to the Bahamas over the course of the 20-year blizzard of words. Ok, fair do’s, there were 4 Mercosur countries involved and the EU is an unwieldy, bureaucratic juggernaut, so it was bound to be slow going, but twenty friggin’ years….jeesch.

The Japan deal…if you are an EU citizen, you’ll no longer pay a 10% tariff on those reliable but rather boring vehicles that are made in the Land of the Rising Sun. It is calculated that just this will result in a 1% increase in GDP. Not bad, and with the increase in trade for the EU benefitting mainly the financial, business, telecom, transport and distribution sectors, it could be that the Chancellor of the Exchequer (whoever he/she is now) could feel that leaving the EU might not be all that great. The deal took years to negotiate and implement, by the way.

Now, let’s take the EU/Canada trade deal; it only took 9 years. Blimey O’Reilly, those negotiations fairly zipped along, didn’t they? They obviously did without the afternoon sessions down the rub-a-dub and only had the occasional kickabout/rodeo-riding/ice hockey game in the afternoons.

What does all this tell us? It doesn’t actually tell us, more screams into our ears that trade deals don’t come about overnight, or over a few months. They take years, or even decades. So whatever is being told to you now by Boris or Nigel or the guy propping up the bar with the Union Jack tattoo on his forehead, any benefits to the UK economy that result from a trade deal might not find their way into your bank or bitcoin account but into those of your kids in around ten to twenty years.

Happy Brexit.

The Right Honourable Theresa May said that she would quit if her deal was passed by the Commons. Shouldn’t she have announced her resignation if her deal WAS NOT PASSED by the Commons? If it had been passed, then surely after all the endless meetings with the 1922 Committee (for that is the year they live in), the European Research Group (who do not want to be European and do not research anything), with the DUP, with the Devil’s Unelected Advocates in Brussels, she would want to see the process through to the bitter, trainwreck end? A very strange decision; to do all the brain-frazzling donkey work to get the deal passed, only for someone else to take over and grab all the glory. There again, is it any stranger than triggering Article 50 when she did not have a clue as to the terms of a leaving deal; thereby giving all the negotiating ammunition to the EU? All the flak is being aimed at the UK, but the EU must bear its share of the blame. Regardless of all the Backstop blah blah, what right does the EU have to dictate what type of border can exist between the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland when the UK will no longer be a member of the EU? That is like telling Poland what kind of border it must have with the Republic of Belarus. Furthermore, there HAS to be some measure of control that a country can exert on the amount of people coming to live in it. Yes, the existing EU countries needed people to fuel the workforce, but it’s simply ludicrous that 5 or 10 million EU citizens can go and live in another member state of the EU at a stroke. How could that country possibly deal with the influx of so many? Regardless of whether there is space, housing, jobs, etc. available, a tidal wave of immigration causes disruptions in the social fabric of society. It’s simple human nature to be resentful of this.

So now what? The deal was defeated again so we must assume that the lady is not for turning. She has just announced that she will ask for another extension until the 12th of May….might as well be the 12th of Never.

Will there be a leadership contest? Doubtful, but the runners and riders are already being bet on. Michael Gove, a likely candidate for the top slot, replied to a question about being a contender in 2012: “I’m constitutionally incapable of it. There’s a special extra quality you need that is indefinable, and I know I don’t have it. There’s an equanimity, an impermeability and a courage that you need. There are some things in life you know it’s better not to try.” Well, Michael, you did try. Maybe Gove genuinely meant what he said, but when the opportunity came, he turned into Bestial Bilbo Baggins as he sees the Ring around Frodo’s neck.

Another obvious favourite (wearing blinkers) is Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson. A lovely little twist in all this is that Gove worked on the Channel 4 programme ‘A Stab in the Dark’; Boris Johnson will know all about that after he played Caesar to Gove’s Brutus on the day the latter was due to announce his candidacy; only in the case of Boris, the stab was in broad daylight.

Mr. Pfeffel (why on earth doesn’t he use this wonderful surname?) is very modest and self-deprecating. His paternal grandmother, Yvonne Eileen Williams (also known as ‘Granny Butter’), was a descendant of Prince Paul von Württemberg, who was a direct descendant of George II, meaning that Boisterous Boris is a relative of the Royal Family and, therefore, part of the club of inter-married royals of Europe who, as we all know, are really either alien lizards or barking mad.

When told about his regal lineage, Boris said: “If you had told me that I was related to George II, I would have thought that you were absolutely crackers – not even Granny Butter could have come up with that one.” Oh come on Boris, you big, tousle-haired fibber! I’m sure you had your valet research your family tree before you could even walk.

Returning (inexorably) to Brexit, Sir Anthony Seldon, vice-chancellor of the University of Buckingham and all-round clever bod, said: “The real essence of the problem is that the country voted to leave, but only just – another day it could have gone the other way.

“But these people here in Parliament predominantly want to stay.

“So is Britain a popular democracy, where the people decide the future, or is it these guys here, who are the representatives of the people who voted in general elections? And that’s really the nub of the problem.”

Actually, Sir Ant, that’s the conundrum of the nub of the problem. Why elect representatives of the people to make wise and knowledgable decisions if you’re simply going to ask the unwise and unknowledgeable masses to decide on something as crucially important as the UK leaving the EU? The Right Honourable members feel obliged to honour the results of a referendum even though they know full well that too many people voted for 350 million quid more for the NHS or for ‘independence’, which sounds wonderful but it’s doubtful whether, say, most Zimbabweans would tell you that they were better off since gaining theirs. You can’t pay for things with independence or sovereignty.

If Brexit has done nothing else, it has at least made the electorate more aware of what goes on in the House of Commons and, that awareness has caused a deep mistrust of the political scheming and double-dealing, based upon toeing the party line. MPs are supposedly elected to represent their constituents but that is blatantly not the case, otherwise they would not be whipped into obediance. Essentially, political parties are an anathema to true democracy – so why have them? Would it spoil some vast, eternal plan to abolish them? Some would argue that it would ‘hamstring’ the Commons, leaving it too disjointed to be able to make decisions, but that is exactly what has happened in the Commons over Brexit. Imagine it; an assembly made up of representatives with no allegiances or affiliations to a political party, free to follow the wishes of their constituents and their own experience, wisdom and expertise.

“The UK is facing an uncertain future” No, it isn’t! It’s exactly the opposite. The future of the UK is very certain – its break-up, and the House of Commons is making that happen by its myopic political manouevring and refusal to agree on anything. However, would breaking up the UK be a bad thing? By the same rationale as the UK would be better off by leaving the EU, then surely England would be better off by leaving the UK. The only thorny issue would be North Sea oil, but the Angles could come to an amicable, profit-sharing arrangement with the Scots. So, hold a referendum on leaving; what a juicy prospect, eh? Some non-Plaid Cymruites might object, but Wales could join the EU and get lots of lovely subsidies. I daresay that no PM would ever, EVER consider holding a referendum again, but with the referendum genie out of the bottle, it may not want to go back. Freedom is contagious.

Brexit has caused chaos, it has created deep divisions in society…so? Out of chaos comes order and this is a chance to take a cold, hard look at Parliament and the whole democratic and electoral system in the country. I mean, for heaven’s sake, there isn’t even enough space in the chamber for all the MPs to sit down! Traditions are fine, but they only have a certain shelf-life. The House of Lords has been labelled an anachronism in our modern, democratic age; well, the House of Commons is increasingly looking like a contender for that category. The founder of the Venus Project, Jacque Fresco, argued all his long life that it’s the experts who should be running the show; scientists in the main. They know what they’re talking about; do MPs? Taking the example of Michael Gove, he is the current Secretary of State for the Environment, Food and Rural Affairs. Prior to this, he was Secretary of State for Justice and before that Secretary of State for Education. Notice a pattern? I don’t. Ministers flit from one department to another, proving that they are not experts in any field in particular apart from politics. They administer money; they receive it and they spend it. Some MPs say a no-deal is best, some say a customs union, some not to leave at all; they can’t all be right. Let’s have a study (as independent as is can be) on the question of membership, setting out the pros and cons and the likely effects of all the options available for leaving or staying. Present the findings to the people and let them vote on each, with the government implementing the decision. If it takes a year and the UK has to participate in the EU Parliament elections, then so be it. This is preferable to leaving the EU based on ignorance and biased opinions. Farage and others will cry “Betrayal!!” for sure, but ruining the economy and, along with it, the lives of millions of citizens unnecessarily, seems to me to be the ultimate betrayal.

 

 

The Right Honourable Theresa May said that she would quit if her deal was passed by the Commons. I kept a close eye on the media and I was waiting for the burning question to be asked; would she still resign if her deal wasn’t passed? It didn’t come. No-one asked it. It occurred to me, shouldn’t she announced her resignation if her deal WAS NOT PASSED by the Commons? If it had been passed, then surely after all the endless meetings with the 1922 Committee (for that is the year they live in), the European Research Group (who do not want to be European and do not research anything), with the DUP, with the Devil’s Unelected Advocates in Brussels, she would want to see the process through to the bitter, trainwreck end? A very strange decision; to do all the backbreaking, brain-frazzling, donkey work to get the deal passed, only for someone else to take over and grab all the glory. There again, is it any stranger than triggering Article 50 when she did not have a clue as to the terms of a leaving deal; thereby giving all the negotiating ammunition to the EU? All the flak is being aimed at the UK, but the EU must bear its share of the blame. Regardless of all the blah blah about the Backstop, what right does the EU have to dictate what type of border can exist between the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland when the UK will no longer be a member of the EU? That is like telling Poland what kind of border it must have with the Republic of Belarus.

So now what? Is there going to be a leadership battle right in the middle of the Brexit impasse/faux pas? I cannot be the only person thinking that that would be an amazingly STUPID thing to happen. Just as the Right Honourable David Cameron bolted from his mess after losing control of his own party, will Theresa May leave us and her belovéd Tories in even more cloying Brexit mud?

The runners and riders are already being bet on. Michael Gove, a likely candidate for the top slot, replied to a question about being a contender in 2012: “I’m constitutionally incapable of it. There’s a special extra quality you need that is indefinable, and I know I don’t have it. There’s an equanimity, an impermeability and a courage that you need. There are some things in life you know it’s better not to try.” Well, Michael, you did try, but here’s the catch – power is just soooooo oozingly attractive. Maybe Gove genuinely meant what he said, but when the opportunity came, he turned into Bilbo Baggins as he sees the Ring around Frodo’s neck.

Another obvious favourite (wearing blinkers) is Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson. A lovely little twist in all this is that Gove worked on the Channel 4 programme ‘A Stab in the Dark’; Boris Johnson will know all about that after he played Caesar to Gove’s Brutus on the day the latter was due to announce his candidacy; only in the case of Boris, the stab was in broad daylight.

Mr. Pfeffel (why on earth doesn’t he use this surname?) is very modest and self-deprecating. His paternal grandmother, Yvonne Eileen Williams (also known as ‘Granny Butter’), was a descendant of Prince Paul von Württemberg, who was a direct descendant of George II, meaning that Boisterous Boris is a relative of the Royal Family and, therefore, part of the club of inter-married royals of Europe who, as we all know, are really either alien lizards or barking mad.

When told about his regal lineage, Boris said: “If you had told me that I was related to George II, I would have thought that you were absolutely crackers – not even Granny Butter could have come up with that one.” Oh come on Boris, you big, tousle-haired fibber! I’m sure you had your valet research your family tree before you could even walk.

Returning (inexorably) to Brexit, Sir Anthony Seldon, vice-chancellor of the University of Buckingham and all-round clever bod, said: “The real essence of the problem is that the country voted to leave, but only just – another day it could have gone the other way.

“But these people here in Parliament predominantly want to stay.

“So is Britain a popular democracy, where the people decide the future, or is it these guys here, who are the representatives of the people who voted in general elections? And that’s really the nub of the problem.”

Exactly, Sir Ant, you’ve hit the nub on the head. Why elect representatives of the people to make wise and knowledgable decisions if you’re simply going to ask the unwise and unknowledgeable masses to decide on something as crucial as the UK leaving the EU? And that’s another nub, that no-one is man or woman enough to come out and say it; that at least 50% of the UK electorate are too ignorant and selfish to have a say in deciding the collective good of the nation. Giving all and sundry the vote is like asking a car mechanic how to best solve a global financial crisis.

If Brexit has done nothing else, the electorate is now more aware of the political scheming and double-dealing that goes on in the House of Commons, and it doesn’t like it. Essentially, a political party is an anathema to true democracy, simply because MPs are pressured and whipped into toeing the party line. Brexit has modified that, even creating a new party and, just maybe, even more parties will emerge. But, why have political parties at all? How would abolishing them change things in Parliament? Would it ‘hamstring’ the assembly, leaving it too disjointed to be able to take decisions? Well, that is exactly what has happened with Brexit; the majority voted to leave but the majority of MPs wanted to remain. The members feel obliged to honour the results of a referendum even though they know full well that too many people voted for 350 quid more for the NHS or for ‘independence’. Sounds great (‘Freedom’ sounds even better – ask Mel Gibson), but it’s doubtful whether most Zimbabweans would say that they were better off since gaining their independence.

“The UK is facing an uncertain future” No, it isn’t! It’s exactly the opposite. The future of the UK is very certain…its break-up, and the House of Commons is making that happen by its myopic political manouevring and refusal to agree on anything. However, would breaking up the UK be a bad thing? By the same rationale as the UK would be better off by leaving the EU leaving the EU, then surely England would be better off by leaving the UK. The only thorny issue would be North Sea oil, but the Angles could come to an amicable arrangement with the Scots. So, hold a referendum on leaving; what a juicy prospect. Some non-Plaid Cymruites might object, but Wales could join the EU and get lots of lovely subsidies. I daresay that no PM would ever, EVER consider holding a referendum again, but with the referendum genie out of the bottle, it may not want to go back. Freedom is contagious.

Brexit has caused chaos, it has created deep divisions in society…so? Out of chaos comes order and this is a chance to take a cold, hard look at Parliament and the whole democratic and electoral system in the country. I mean, for heaven’s sake, there isn’t even enough space in the chamber for all the MPs to sit down! Traditions are fine, but they only have a certain shelf-life. The House of Lords has been labelled an anachronism in our modern, democratic age; well, the House of Commons is increasingly looking like a contender for that category.

 

We’re all democrats, aren’t we? Goddammit, even Republicans are democrats (with a small ‘d’). We all believe in democracy, don’t we? We believe that it’s a basic right for more-or-less anyone over the age of 18 who isn’t mentally deranged to be able to vote in a political election…or even a referendum, don’t we? Hell, the Aussies made it compulsory to vote…but is that democratic? Should someone be forced to vote? No, not in my book. I don’t believe that eveyone should be made to vote as I don’t believe that everyone should be ABLE to vote. That’s right; I’m not a democrat; at least not an enfranchise-the-hell-outta-everybody democrat. You don’t agree with me? Screw you, it’s my democratic right to say that I don’t agree with a free-for-all style of democracy.

Here’s a simple test: ask everyone you know what the word ‘enfranchise’ means? If they reply that it’s to run a retail outlet under licence, then bingo! They should be disenfranchised on the spot. If they just shrug their shoulders and say “I dunno”, they should be shot on the spot.

“But democracy is ingrained in us.” Is it? You are told what to do by your parents, your big sister/brother, by your teachers, your bosses, your missus (if you’re a husband), by police officers, judges, security guards, dinner ladies, bullies, TV executives and ad agencies…it never ends. The fact is that we look for leaders; someone to take charge when the poop hits the fan and generally the person we obey is the one who speaks in a steady, confident voice and, therefore, must know what the hell they are talking about.

The Brexit referendum/debate/argument/utter friggin’ mess has thrown up one glaringly obvious fact: that you do not ask the opinion of a person who knows diddly squat about anything apart from how much each of Kim Kardashian’s buttocks weigh or what model of Range Rover Dele Alli drives or the easiest ways to kill a Pit Bull. When a person applies for citizenship for a country, what happens? There is a test to pass. It’s not difficult. It’s comprised of a few basic questions about that particular country and its history. Introduce something similar for people who want to vote; for example:

What do the initials ‘MP’ stand for? What is a ‘constituency’? What’s the difference between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland? Explain the fluctuations in the currency and futures markets after an interest rate rise. Easy.

That’ll get rid of at least 50% of the lamearse, dimwit population. No, I shouldn’t say that. They’re not dim. They just don’t give a toss. They don’t want to know so, thus, they don’t know. And, their opinion/vote is worthless.

What about politicians? Yeah, get rid of some of them too. What purpose do they serve? They are elected to represent their constituents. Do they do that? No, they represent their party and its leaders. I watched some of PM’s Question Time last week and the poor, beleagured, diction-trained Theresa was asked the same bloody question about 15 times. Why? What difference did it make? Was anything resolved? No. Was the topic discussed any further? No. It was just the same question with the same answer. I imagine it was so the MPs could get their pasty faces on telly to justify their silly salary/expense accounts. Then, an MP stood up and asked the PM to commend a chap who had been a bell-ringer in his constituency since medieval times. What? A deeply divided nation is on the verge of a constitutional and economic catastrophe and all we get is a shambling charade that served no useful purpose whatsoever.

A question; where is David Cameron? Is he alive? Has he shaved his head and gone off to a Hari Krishna retreat? If ever there was a politician who monumentally cocked up, twas he. And I don’t care whether you want to leave or to remain, that guy plunged the UK over the abyss and into the yawning chasm of fire.

Oh yeah, by the way, it’s a hard, yes, it’s a hard, yes it’s a so, so, so, so hard…yes, it’s a Hard Brexit that’s gonna fa-a-a-a-fall.

 

In a shock, but not wholly unexpected, move today, President Trump removed himself from office. When asked why he had taken this drastic measure, he replied: “Vladimir Putin said that I should keep on firing people. I’ve fired everyone else, including Mike Pence and the White House cleaners last week. The White House is pretty big, you know, and having to clean it myself left me no time to watch Nickelodeon Kids and I don’t like to miss Paw Patrol. It’s been my inspiration for so many of my amazing presidential decisions. Also, I’ve learned some big words, like…errr…inspiration. I think that firing myself is a tremendous decision and it will give me more time to work on my swing and my tan.”

A CNN reporter asked him if his fan was fake. “That’s a fake question. You can’t ask questions like that. I’m the President of the United States. You’re a disgrace. You’re fired!”

Asked by a Washington Post reporter why he used so many capital letters when it wasn’t necessary, Trump exploded: “You work for a Fake Newspaper! I was German in a former Life! You’re fired!”

An inflatable, fake Fox News reporter pointed out: “But you fired yourself, Mr….err, ex-President.”

“Well honeybunch, I can see that my fake country needs me, so I’m re-instating myself. I’m back. Better than ever. A true statesman. A true Sex God. I am Trump.”

 

 

In an unprecedented show of complete and utter clarity today, an unnamed man, purporting to be an emperor and not wearing a stitch of clothing, stunned everyone involved in the Brexit process by declaring, in a thick Belfast accent: “Why the hell can’t there be a hard border between Northern Ireland and the Republic?”

Upon hearing this, some Euro MPs were seen to tear their hair and rend their clothes, while the MP for Little Istanbulstein-on-the-Wold and Chipping Sudetenland fainted on the spot and had to be revived with a promise of a 50% increase in personal expenses.

Jacques Cheroaque, EU Minister for Autobahns, Duty Free Fags and Wandering Minstrels, was heard to exclaim: “This man is not an emperor; he’s a god. I will renounce my position with immediate effect and follow him around like a King Charles Spaniel puppy.” However, The Right Dishonourable James St. John FitzAnstarts, UK Minister for Rejecting All Brexit Proposals, could be heard to grumble: “What gives this loony the right to make sense? He’s a threat to public safety and must be deported to the Colonies…or Scotland.”

On the Sceptred Isle, reaction was swift, with the Irish T-Shirt demanding talks “some time in the future” with Theresa May, suggesting the meeting place as: “A nice little spot on the banks of the River Boyne, just outside Drogheda.” The UK PM was asked to express an emotion, but she declined, merely saying: “I will be talking with this naked emperor soon in order to get the best possible deal for my clothes designer.”

The Rumanian president, whose name cannot be uttered, chipped in: “This is a stake in the heart for the European Union.”

YE WEST MEETS ALD TRUMP; USA NO LONGER NEEDS SENATE

Today, in a bold show of mutual modesty, President Trump swapped brains with Ye Verily West today in order to understand a) What makes Ye so god-like, b) What the hell ‘racism’ means and c) What it is like not to have to answer to nobody. For Ye, he will a) Learn how to walk stiffly, b) How to evade paying taxes and c) How to rule the world.

Before the delicate transfer operation took place (performed by Steve Martin MCD) the president planted a big, wet kiss on Ye Verily’s gorgeous, pouting lips and pronounced: “Now I know what its like to kiss Gaaahd.” Ye was heard to respond: “And now I know what it’s like to kiss Taylor Swift.”

After about an hour of frollicking around the Oval Office, playing with the toys that previous First Children had left, Trump (in Ye’s body) heralded: “I’ve taken the momentous decision to stay in this body. In it, I will do an even fantasticker job. Ye will be my right-hand hairdo and together we’ll make America even greater.” Ye (in Trump’s shell) retorted: “Over mah dead bo…your dead bo…ah hell, git me outta this m*******g piece-o’-crap lump of pasty, white flesh!”

Later the same day, Ye Trump abolished the Senate and the House of Representatives and declared Marshall Matt Dillon Law.

 

 

MAY LOSES MOJO AGAIN.

Sadly, after the Health Secretary Matt Hancock announced the discover of his beloved leader’s ‘oomph’ (“It was a brilliant speech that proves she has ‘mojo'”, the PM’s aides are now frantically searching for the missing mojo, in the hope of locating it for the auditions for the next season of Strictly Embarrassing.

Some Tory faithfuls opined that it was the best speech that Theresa May had given. Not exactly difficult was it? All of her speeches sound like they were written by a bored computer programme. I sent one to a friend who suffers from insomnia and he was cutely snoring like a little kitten within 20 seconds of listening to it. If the UK went to war and the PM were required to bolster the morale of the troops, they might as well do a ‘Singapore’ and surrender en masse. The problem is that she pronounces every word like her life depended on it: “I simply must enunciate all my words completely and absolutely correctly. I cannot be heard to drop an ‘h’ or an ‘n’.” Is she really an ex-Cockney who underwent a posh makeover?

“I say no”, “the best deal for Britain”, “Jeremy Corbyn is really a 90-year old SS prison guard from Buchenwald”. Seriously? Jeremy Corbyn is anti-semitic? May has joined all the other leaders who pee their pants at the thought of criticising Israel for the treatment of the Palestinians, who live in a prision called the Gaza Strip. Did we hear a peep out of her over the Israelis murdering about 200 stone-throwing Palestinians at the ‘border’?

A great speech, with not a single mention of ‘Chequers’ or ‘Boris’. Yep, all her problemas are over,

TRUMP DRINKS GALLON OF BEER, SAYS SOMETHING NICE ON TWITTER THEN ORDERS INVASION OF TAIWAN

“I drink beer. I like beer. I was weened on beer. I live for beer. If I had a keg, I’d drink it in the morning, I’d drink it in the evening, all over this land…”

With shares in beer companies surging after Brett Kavanaugh eulogised/sobbed uncontrollably about the amber nectar, President Trump was overheard saying: “This beer thing has gone on too goddamed long. I’ve gotta try it. I want beer. I’m gonna be the best drunk the world has ever seen.” Reports say that the president’s aides tried to dissuade him but the Iron and Steel Prez was not for turning. They then forcibly restrained him, but Trump belied his 70 years and shrugged them off with a few ‘lucha libre’ moves that he’d learnt from Presidente-electo Andrés Manuel López Obrador (or ‘Manny Labrador’ as Trump called him).

“I want Mexican beer!” el Trumpo bellowed and thrust his coiffured head into an opened keg of Dos Equis. “They’re gonna called it Triple X now! I need to tweet!” Aides were taken aback at the sight of the President’s beer-soaked hair, as it now flowed, Rapunzel-like, to the floor.

“Hey Hillary, coochi-coo baby. Who luvs ya?” The tweet was removed.

“We gotta invade shumbody! An’ I don’t mean some little, tinpot banana repu…rebu…plic like Panama or Pakistan. Let’s go fer the big one…China! Invade one o’ their islands they built in the…ahh..wazzername ah that ocean?” And he stabbed a short, chubby digit into the map.