WAKING up with a hangover so excruciating I crave a head transplant, I pop an Alker-Seltzer and pray to any god who’ll listen for relief.
Shortly after, a diffident knock at the door can only mean the arrival of one person.
“Good morning, Archbishop.”
“Andrew,” I reply, coldly.
“Call me Andy,” said the prime minister.
“What can I do for you, Andrew?”
“I wanted to run some of my radical initiatives past you.”
“Have you stopped selling arms to Israel yet?”
“Er – no. But I am planning to open a Northern No.11, only in Macclesfield and- ”
“Planning to renationalise water?”
“No, er – no. But how about this? Wonderwall as a new anthem for the North West? Anthems for all the regions. We could- ”
“Anything to say, anything at all, about climate change?”
“No. But how about this? Britain to host the European fencing championships in 2052?”
“You know, Andrew, you’re a small minded, useless fuckwit of a PM. Everyone fucking knows it, but no one’s saying it because we all know who the fucking alternative is and we want him dead and buried!”
“Please. Call me Andy…”
“FUCK OFF!”
And so he does, upon which I take a light breakfast and peruse a periodical. Therein, I read that Radko Mladic, convicted of genocide in the 1992-1995 war in Bosnia, has died in The Hague.
Fuck me, the evil get to live fucking long lives, don’t they? I hope he spent the last decade of his life within sniffing distance of his own slop bucket, staring at empty grey walls, wondering if he might have been better off spending his working career as a road sweeper rather than a murderous, butchering lump of scum? Still, now that the cunt has carked it there is an extra cell available, and let’s fucking hope its next occupant is fucking Netanyahu!
JK Rowling tweeted her condolences following the death of Dolly Parton. In response, a trans person pointed out that the late singer was a staunch ally, prompting Rowling to deadname the critic.
Truly, you are the anti-Parton aren’t you, Rowling? Think she would have regarded someone as monomaniacally consumed with hatred as you as any kind of pal? You’re no more welcome at her mourning than you are at Pride! If there were an afterlife, and fortunately for you there isn’t, no fucking way would you and Dolly Parton be meeting in it!
Richard Tice, deputy leader of Reform UK, has opined that Britons should ‘celebrate’ the extreme heat that has caused 3,000 excess deaths this Summer, stating that it was great news for the wine industry.
Christ’s cock on a cuntstick, I genuinely believe it is impossible for someone to be as rich and as fucking stupid as you are! I actually think you’ve sat down, had a very brief, one-sided conversation with yourself and convinced yourself that climate change means Britain upgrading to Italian or Spanish weather conditions! Your partner Isobel Oakeshott is evil but you, I think, are just an actual fucking moron!
Finally, Donald Trump, as part of his ongoing grudge against Canada, has signed an order decreeing that Lake Ontario be renamed Lake America.
I mean, clearly it’s a matter of months, maybe weeks now before the nurses roll up at the Oval Office with the wheelbarrow and you’re carted off to the funny farm but fucking hell, in the meantime… tell you what, while we’re fucking renaming things, from here on, you are Donald Cunt. Let the word go out. On social media, wherever, for the final, wretched lap of your roosting atop the world. Donald Cunt. It suits you.
