When will the BBC and Royals sack whoever we order them to? By the Daily Mail

ALREADY King Charles III has defied our wishes by inviting his own son to his coronation. Now the BBC refuses to sack Gary Lineker. When will they learn?

Do these institutions believe themselves bigger than us? Ludicrous. We are not just a newspaper read by right-wing homeowners. We are the voice of the people and the true rulers of Britain.

Perhaps these pitiables believe our moral authority eroded. By Brexit, which we heralded as a success to make the world envious. By Theresa May, our new Iron Lady. By Boris, our new Churchill. By Liz Truss, who we proclaimed the woman of the hour.

No. Those minor errors, like the 1934 pro-fascism editorial ‘Hurrah for the Blackshirts!’ by our chairman’s great-grandfather, stem from nothing more than an excess of patriotism.

But, though we have made our views clear, the King has ignored us. We have advised him repeatedly that his son, who coincidentally is suing us but that has nothing to do with anything, is no longer part of his family.

We have stated in no uncertain terms that he and his vortex-of-evil wife must not attend the coronation. That it would ruin it for Britain if he did. But that disrespectful prick Charlie invites him regardless.

And now? All we’re asking for is the summary dismissal of a much-loved sports presenter on the grounds of holding political views, which does actually sound a bit like Nazi Germany. But, cowed by employment law and so-called popular opinion, the BBC has refused.

Do they think they can get away with this? When our editor will soon be a Lord? We will get our way. Even if Britain becomes an impoverished, backward island living in fear and suspicion. We will get our way. And Charles and the BBC will pay for their insolence.

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

The six-point interrogation of your teenage daughter's boyfriend: A guide for dads

HAS your daughter brought her boyfriend home? Make sure you grill the f**ker with these questions. You’ll soon prove a toerag like him shouldn’t be anywhere near your special princess.

What do your parents do? 

You want to know if he comes from good stock before you give permission for him boning your precious daughter. Dad in a solid little managerial role, mum a heroic frontline NHS worker, is what you’re hoping for. Regret sticking your snout in when he tells you dad runs a hugely successful international business, and you feel three inches tall for flogging your guts out for bastards because there’s still ten years to go on the mortgage.

What are your career aspirations? 

You don’t want her falling for some schmuck who flips burgers in McDonald’s, and if the little shit is planning on hanging around your daughter for long he’d better start paying for everything, like you didn’t when you were dating her mum. Ask about his career plans and he’ll say he’s not sure yet; he’s only 18 and still doing his A-levels. Try to steer him into a career in the armed forces. He’ll either be posted to some far-flung corner of the globe, or, ideally, get shot. Either way she’ll never see him again.

What football team do you support? 

Pray he’s not some glory-hunting Manchester City fan living in the Home Counties, but instead suffers the misery of following someone local and shit, like you. If he says he’s not really into football, rejoice – it means he’s secretly gay but in denial, so the relationship is doomed. It’ll break her heart, but that’s better than her hymen.

Are you planning on going to university? 

You’re already pressuring your daughter into applying for a place at Cambridge, like any loving parent who wants to spend three years bragging about it at dinner parties, so a nice little degree in geography in Aberdeen for him would be perfect. Feel your heart sink and your hopes crumble to dust when they excitedly tell you they’ve been talking about this already and have agreed to both apply to Birmingham so they can still be together. Bollocks.

Do you drive? 

Well, you’re f**ked if you are going to ferry the pair of them around, and she’s lost heart in the idea after failing her test twice. Your relief when he tells you ‘yes’, and he’s saved up and bought a little runaround, will evaporate at the instantaneous thought of him banging her on the backseat in a remote car park frequented by doggers.

What do you in your spare time? 

Apart from fervently humping your child, that is. Hope he comes out with something tedious like astronomy or calligraphy, which means she’ll get bored and dump him soon, and not ‘Oh, I’m in a band!’, which will result in her being dragged into a rock-and-roll downward spiral of drink, drugs and, inevitably, prostitution.