A Guide To The People You Don't Care About In Labour's Civil War

AS Gordon Brown fights for his political life the Daily Mash brings you a guide to the key players in the tumultuous battle for the heart and soul of the Labour party. No, we don't really give a shit either.


Lord Mandelson:
Once Mr Brown's most deadly enemy, now described as his 'rock', which is perfect cover for the man who remains his most deadly enemy.

Jacqui Smith: A woman of stature, integrity, wisdom and great judgeme… oh dear, almost managed to get all the way through that. Loves Brown almost as much as her husband loves the skin flicks.

Ed Balls: The prime minister's right hand man who now harbours ambitions to succeed him. But backbenchers are divided; Some say he is a charmless, gutless little turd, while others insist he has a face you could punch all day.

Ed Miliband: We have no idea who this person is.

Yvette Cooper: Married to Ed Balls. Looks and sounds like a 12 year-old boy. Comprehensively unbearable.

Douglas Alexander: Married to Ed Balls. Looks and sounds like a 12 year-old girl. Comprehensively unbearable.

Alistair Darling: Once the prime minister's most trusted lieutenant but in recent months has grown uncomfortable with Mr Brown drumming his fingers so far up his lower intestine.

Nick Brown: The chief whip has been described as Mr Brown's 'hatchet man' as if he's some kind of East End gangster, but is actually just some fat ponce of a politician who would piss himself in a bar fight.


David Miliband: Enjoys bananas… Has dark hair… Quite tall? Unless we're thinking of someone else.

Hazel Blears: Britain's most powerful Borrower. Lives inside the skirting boards at Number 10 where she chews through the modem cables and eats off an old bobbin. Can make a Babybel cheese last for a month.

John Hutton: Brown's long-term enemy who once said he would be a 'fucking disaster' as PM and is therefore the cleverest man in the Labour Party by a 'fucking mile'.

James Purnell: If it looks like a junior salesman and sounds like a junior salesman, you call it what it is.

Jim Murphy: Has been described by close friends and family as 'the lowest point in the history of Cabinet government'.


Alan Johnson: Played the postman in Eastenders from 1987 to 1994. Rumours persist that he his Ricky Butcher's real father. Insists he has no interest in being leader but now has the bleary-eyed look of a man who is up half the night wanking over the very thought of it.

John Denham: We have no idea who this person is.

Jack Straw: Described, usually by himself, as a 'safe pair of hands' and Labour's 'kingmaker' but is in fact totally irrelevant and always has been.

Andy Burnham: Claims he always really wanted to be the lead guitarist in an indie band but instead of actually trying to do that decided to put on a Marks and Spencers suit and become a fucking politician.

Hilary Benn: Has a girl's name but wears men's shoes so may be in the middle of sexual reassignment. Nobody knows whether it's man to woman or woman to man.

Harriet Harman: Worst. Person. Ever.

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Survivors To Enjoy Glorious Summer, Says Met Office

BRITAIN'S small band of pork flu survivors can look forward to a hot, dry summer, the Met Office confirmed last night.

After the densely populated wash-outs of the last two years, experts said Britain's thinned-out herd will enjoy the 'perfect combination' of great weather and very short queues.

A Met Office spokeswoman said: "The roads will be nice and quiet and the beaches will be wonderfully empty.

"You'll also be able to help yourself to some nice salads and a bottle of rosé at the deserted supermarkets and then have your pick of the abandoned soft-tops in the car park."

She added: "The only slight problem we can foresee is the permanent and overwhelming stench of decaying flesh."

Emma Bradford, deputy editor of Good Housekeeping, said: "If all your friends are dead, just heave some corpses into your garden, put sunglasses on them and then prop them up à la Weekend at Bernie's, while hosting a ghoulish and macabre Sunday afternoon barbecue.

"Then you could circulate, topping up everyone's drinks while pretending that they're all laughing at your witty remarks and asking where you got your lovely new sandals.

"And as the afternoon melts into a warm summer evening, why not put on some music, grab that sexy neighbour of yours and drag his lifeless body round the lawn? There really are some wonderful memories just waiting to happen."

Meanwhile the government yesterday launched its pork flu information campaign underlining the fact that despite 2000 years of civilisation the people of Britain still have to be reminded to use a fucking hanky.