How I created a fake heatwave to fool sheeple that climate change is real, by the BBC's Tomasz Schafernaker

GOOD morning. As a meteorologist I create the weather, and last week my globalist paymasters ordered a record-breaking heatwave. Here’s how I did it.

Change to centigrade

The British people are genetically hardwired to only understand Imperial measurements, so switching to centigrade decades ago was crucial to our scam. Nobody’s known the real temperature ever since, apart from anyone under 50 and they don’t count.

Befog the forecasts

Old-style forecasts, delivered by trusted presenters who weren’t in the pay of the New World Order like Michael Fish, had simple, straightforward stick-on suns. We ditched those and brought in hysterical, panic-inducing purple and black to terrify the credulous.

Clear the clouds

Those days could have been pleasantly overcast, but that didn’t fit our agenda. So we stopped our fleet of commercial jets spreading chemtrails and instead had them hoover up the clouds, which we’re storing in warehouses for when we need non-GM crops to fail.

Turn off the wind

To create the illusion of hotter weather an order went out: ‘Turn off the wind farms.’ Yes, natural wind was long ago replaced by our network of off and on-shore wind turbines. They never generated electricity. You fell for that? Ha ha ha.

Turn up the thermostats

Every thermostat in Britain has a microchip in it controlled by Bill Gates. A simple twist of the hand from his secret bunker orbiting the earth and everyone’s heating goes up while the thermostat reads normally.

Cause media panic

The mainstream media is ours, so spreading a message of terror was no problem. Body heat is largely psychosomatic so once we told you the record temperatures you started sweating, pumping out heat and creating the very conditions we’d lied about.

Sit back

All our plans and preparations paid off, from the decades-long climate change hoax to hiring foreign meteorologists who would cheerfully betray Britain. Now I’m just kicking back with my piles of money, cocaine and high-class hookers all meteorologists get as standard.

Sign up now to get
The Daily Mash
free Headlines email – every weekday

Why poundshops were always bollocks

THE poundshop may soon be a thing of the past, as few items still cost £1. Britons are predictably upset, but the truth is they were always bollocks. Here’s why.

The maths doesn’t work

Not every product retails for exactly £1. So even if some are sold at a slight loss, many will have the price hiked slightly to make them a nice round £1. You could have a shop called ‘Stuff Sold For What It’s Actually Worth’ but that doesn’t sound like a bargain to morons.

It helps if you have stunted tastes

Do you eat a monotonous diet of the same famous-brand products every day? If so, Poundland et al are for you. Fancy a dinner of Heinz cream of chicken soup, Fray Bentos beef and onion pie, and that rarest of treats, a Cadbury Wispa? Thanks to poundshops you can eat like an unadventurous pensioner who’s just glad rationing is over.

Disappointing toys

Poundshops sell ultra-cheap unlicensed Chinese knock-offs, eg. superhero action figures called ‘Metal Suit Jet Hero’, ‘Incredible Green Man’ and ‘Scarlet Magician’. They’ll have huge holes in them from the moulding process, a tendency for limbs to fall off, and deformed faces that will either give kids nightmares or lead to a career in reconstructive plastic surgery.

You gets what you pay for 

A pack of 20 biros for £1 is superficially cheap, but not if they last three per cent as long as a pack of five normal ones for £1.50. Otherwise sane people are thrilled by poundshop deals, when they’d instantly realise Springsteen tickets on sale for £2.50 is a teensy bit too good to be true.

Seasonal crap 

At Easter, Halloween and Christmas the poundshops declare war on the environment. Suddenly they’re full of one-use plastic shite like Easter bunny door ornaments, nylon spider’s web, a talking Rudolph reminiscent of The Exorcist, and so on. In the future, bands of cancer-ridden survivors will wander the scorched wastelands, ruing the day they ruined the Earth for a glow-in-the-dark six-inch skeleton for, you guessed it, £1. 

Smug bargain hunters 

Twats singing the praises of poundshops are pretty dull if you’re not obsessed with cheap ginger biscuits. Middle class ones slumming it are the worst because they act as if they’ve been on a massive, possibly dangerous, adventure. It’s worth remembering Dr Livingstone was famous for exploring the Nile, not getting 12 tins of Whiskas for 20p less than Asda.