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Binface and Farage in love

NIGEL Farage and Count Binface have announced they are hopelessly in love and whatever tomorrow’s result is will rule Clacton together. 

The pair have confirmed they have been quiet over recent weeks, despite supposedly facing off in a by-election campaign, because after bumping into one another while canvassing the attraction was immediate and mutual.

Farage said: “The moment I saw that cheeky-but-impassive metal face, so Teutonically expressionless, I knew I had to lick it.

“On paper, he’s everything I hate – liberal, establishment, BBC, not American – but in reality? I muttered something about meeting to discuss leafleting and within 24 hours we’d booked a room overlooking the promenade and were making passionate love.

“I don’t care about his policies. I don’t care about mine now I’ve got the £5 million. I only care about this gleaming, beautiful bin of a man and what he can give to the world.

“We’ve agreed no matter the result – I’m predicted to win but I hope it’s close – we’re in this together. He’ll be the constituency MP and I’ll carry on my vital duties fundraising and rabble-rousing. But in our hearts we’ll always be one.”

Binface said: “I think it’s because my head’s the same shape as a pint and he can put fags out on it.”

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Sticky Teriyaki, and other vile crisp flavours brought to us by so-called progress

THERE are but three true flavours of crisp: ready salted, salt & vinegar and cheese & onion. Yet capitalism has foisted these monstrosities upon us: 

Sticky Teriyaki

Like Gary Lineker, the virtuous facade of Walkers Crisps conceals warped, sadistic minds who loathe the world. Yes, Teriyaki goes great on pork ribs, but dusting it in powdered form on greasy potato slices? Vile. A single taste of these justifies Kim Jong-Un keeping North Korea isolated from the hateful, decadent West.

Hot Honey

Burn-your-mouth spicy while simultaneously sickly sweet, a chalk-cheese combination to turn the stomach of the broad-minded and make God turn in revulsion from His creation. Anyone, for decades, could have dipped a crisp in honey. Nobody did.

Worcester Sauce

Every household has a bottle of Worcester sauce at the back of a cupboard, years out of date. Presumably a flavour scientist at Walkers saw one, flinched at the memory of how foul it tastes then slowly began grinning at the revenge he would now unleash. It’s made of molasses and anchovies. That’s by definition disgusting.

Chip Shop Curry

Executives emerged from a boardroom blue-sky-thinking session trying to find truly regrettable eating experiences, tastes which summon an almost Proustian shame, and chose this over 2am Kebab. Best eaten pissed next to a woman carrying her heels and a man who has recently had his nose broken but is unbothered, then best vomited over a garden wall.

Prawn Cocktail

Just because they’re an established variety doesn’t mean crisps that taste like crustaceans are a viable concept. You’re eating a snack flavoured like something that has ten legs, for f**k’s sake. Not that they actually taste like that. It’s more like the unpleasantly spiced tomato broth they’d serve on a commune.

Marmite

There is but one true place for Marmite to dwell: in a sealed, unopened jar, as far away from kitchens and food as is possible, ideally in a skip. Taking this salty, overpowering excuse for a flavour and adding it to crisps can only have been the manifestation of a deranged lunatic with a grudge against humanity.

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