No-one standing between Rees-Mogg and the bullies

JACOB Rees-Mogg has suddenly realised that everyone who used to protect him from the bullies has left Parliament. 

The member for North East Somerset entered the Commons at a crisp 7.30am for a breakfast of devilled kedgeree when he looked up and saw that his friends were gone and his enemies were everywhere.

He said: “Ah. Like Publius Quinctilius Varus in the the Teutoburg Forest, I seem to have overplayed my hand.

“While Boris was never actually present he held sway from afar, via the WhatsApps. But in his absence Dorries no longer acts as his eyes and ears, Nigel Adams’s knuckleduster lies idle, Raab is working from home, and I fear I scent retribution.

“I have not always been kind to my cohort of fellow Parliamentarians, complacent that the twin engines of Boris and Brexit would rule for a thousand years, and now groups huddle, mutter and point I see broken spectacles flushed down a ministerial toilet in my future.

“Andrea Jenkyns will not save me – for her, cruelty is an end in itself – and before end of day my inherited Savile Row undergarments will be deeply embedded in my sphincter.

“I texted Boris beseeching his help so I can at least sneak out with my groin unbooted. He has not replied.”

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Ice-cream van melodies: the top ten from irritating to infuriating

ICE-CREAM vans are a great concept, bringing the cooling balm of a 99 to your very door. But why are their siren songs so shit? 


What is this medieval bollocks? Are you trying to attract a family of serfs? Peasants under feudal lords don’t have three quid for a knock-off Magnum.

The Blue Peter theme

Reminds children of dull, sanctioned fun. And the tune’s actually called Barnacle Bill. They should have called the programme Barnacle Bill. It would have made as much sense as Blue f**king Peter.

The Match of the Day theme

Erling Haaland isn’t running to the ice-cream van for a Zzap. He’s got his own ice-cream van, negotiated as a perk, parked on the lawn outside his 17th-century mansion and forgotten.

La Cucuracha

You know what everyone likes to think about before digging in to a delicious lime screwball? Cockroaches.

O Sole Mio

‘Just one Cornetto,’ as the nineteeth-century Italian folk song goes. But the ice cream man doesn’t sell Cornettos. He sells almond-and-honey Cornettinis that never seem to melt.

The Entertainer

Not so much an entertainer as a vendor, is he. And it is always he. The glass ceiling in the ice-cream van business must be exceptionally low.

Popeye The Sailor Man

Does Popeye even like ice cream? He f**king loves spinach and spindly women, neither of which have positive ice-cream affiliations.

Yankee Doodle

With the van playing this and the twat down the round with his Colonel Bogey air horn, the US Civil War was enacted on your very cul-de-sac.

Pop Goes The Weasel

If you were writing a melody that taunted the listener for not having an ice-cream it would be this.

Teddy Bears’ Picnic

This is toddler-level shit, and you’re expecting grown adults to rush to their feet in excitement? Know your audience, do the Vengabus song.