Society To Be Re-Organised Around Dementia

GLOBAL society is to be re-organised on the assumption that everyone has dementia.

With new estimates suggesting the brain disease will cost the world £400 billion a year, experts say it would be cheaper if we all just treated it as completely normal and went about our day.

Professor Henry Brubaker, of the Institute for Studies, said: “We spend billions of pounds because some people can’t remember their names or where they live or they develop a habit of saying some really weird things.

“Instead of getting all worked up about it let’s just treat as perfectly normal. If someone can’t remember their name, what’s it got to do with you? If they keep forgetting who they’re married to, then good for them. Lucky shits.

“And if you are about to cross the road and a happy old man tells you there’s a ‘Swedish banana cheese monster coming out of your left arse’ how can that possibly matter?

“It only matters because we allow ourselves to think it does.”

He added: “Meanwhile you should feel free to forget your name whenever you want. Or just make up a new name everyday. From now on, every Sunday I shall be called Bing Frisby and I shall live in Caernarfon Castle. I invite you to join me.

“And as for the incontinence, what gives you the right to tell another human being that they can’t go to the toilet in their own trousers? Mind your own business, poo Nazi.”

Under Professor Brubaker’s plan, if someone wanders into your house thinking it is their own then you would be legally obliged to make them feel at home. Likewise you would be free to enter any house that takes your fancy.

He added: “Essentially it would mean that all property would be commonly owned. Which I guess means the world will only embrace true socialism when everyone is completely out of their minds and Billy Bragg will therefore owe me fifty quid.”

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One Woman's Week

With Karen Fenessey

I, for one, was thrilled about the Pope’s visit to our shores – especially after the ominous travel advice he was given by his advisers. Before I went on holiday last year, all my friends warned me that as soon as I got off the plane I would feel like I was in a third world country but I wanted to give Angola a chance – and am now pleased to say that I can heartily recommend the skiing.  

So why go to see the pope? Well, think about your passport. You might have got your creepy GP uncle to be the reference on your photo but who do you think does the pope’s? Clue: He’s a Carpenter.

Some girl from Zumba class might have gone on How to Look Good Naked last year and been dressed up like a gaudy tramp by Gok Wan, but what sentient being dresses our glamorous pontiff in layers of voile and customised baubles from Claire’s Accessories? It is Him.

And if you don’t believe that the pope is real? Well, you may as well join in, what with there being absolutely nothing to lose. You see, many people forget that the pope is the biggest celebrity in the world and mingles accordingly: he spends more time getting his jewels kissed at charity knees-ups and first class airport lounges than Brangelina shimself. So those Keane tickets you couldn’t afford? One word to the Pontiff and you’ll be going bonkers in the moshpit to Somewhere Only We Know before you can say ten Hail Marys. Pure heaven!

Personally, I made sure His Excellence heard what I had to say about Virgin Money after they refused to give me a platinum card. Restraining orders can’t save you this time, Branson!


Something tells me the only type of music Simon Cowell can hear these days is the kind that’s piping wistfully from his skin flute. I suppose it’s nice that he doesn’t care Chloe’s a hooker and is happy for others to use the microphone after her. But people used to get through by confessing to Simon about dead wives and temazepam addiction – not the many thousands of willies a week it takes to earn ten grand. X Factor is now in real danger of becoming some kind of nightmarish pantomime.


­­­I thoroughly enjoyed Michael Sheen playing Tony Blair for the last time in The Special Relationship and must admit he is now even better than Rory Bremner. Some people may be saying that the film is completely untrue but those people are boring. I read Tony Blair’s autobiography in an hour and twenty minutes and can assure you Michael Sheen’s accent was much better and he shows off his nipples more.