BRITAIN will become 68 per cent more pleasant as the Edinburgh Fringe draws in the country’s pathologically self-absorbed bastards for the next three weeks.
As the rest of the country enjoys a well-earned break, the Scottish capital will once again be awash with sixth-form poetry, half-baked political idealism and post-modern reworkings of the A-Team as a feminist statement about pubes.
Sociologist Charlie Reeves said: “The Edinburgh Fringe has become a sort of ‘gobshite kettling’, a way of temporarily containing viciously self-confident Oxbridge graduates who are nowhere near as talented as they think they are but will still end up getting 500 grand a year from the BBC.”
He added: “If only the Metropolitan Police were there to batter them all with sticks.”
Stephen Malley, an accountant from Finsbury Park, said: “It’s already a lot more pleasant around here. I’ve been to the park, done a bit of shopping, stopped for a pint and not once have I been forced to listen to a bunch of tits talking shit.”
Meanwhile Bill McKay, a 55-year-old Edinburgh resident, said: “I’ve had 40 years of arrogant teenagers rewriting Shakespeare, ‘political jugglers’ and comedians calling their show ‘Cheese Badger’.
“At my local we’ve cleared a space in the cellar so if one of them wanders in accidentally we open the hatch, chuck them down the steps and leave them to the pit bulls.”
He added: “It’s called A Million Tears for Rosalita, venue 65, £7.50 at the door, £6 concessions.”
