The Archbishop of Canterbury on… all aboard Desperate Patriotic Bollocks Railways

WAKING with a hangover so searing I have to call the fire brigade and have them direct a hose at full blast directly into my mouth for ten minutes in order to rehydrate, I reflect on the past week. 

I had noted that a certain vocal section of the public is insistent that the biggest problem currently facing the UK is an influx of small boats. 

I therefore announced, on right-wing social media pages, a church-led initiative in accordance with the sentiments of fellow Christian Tommy Robinson. A counter-incursion of small boats, supplied by myself, 80 in total, to put to water on the English Channel. It would be sailed by patriotic volunteers determined to stem the tide of asylum seekers. 

We gathered at dawn; I personally arranged for the volunteers to pick up their vessels at the beach and take to the water one by one. Now, I am no seaman, and on reflection most if not all of the vessels I supplied were probably not shipshape, or capable of sailing further than a mile out to sea. I don’t know how my volunteers fared because I had other matters to attend to. Although I am vaguely aware of sightings of desperate bald men swimming as best they could back to shore having been forced to abandon their boats, bedraggled and half-drowned. 

A lesson there, somewhere. And so I take a light breakfast and peruse a periodical. Therein I read that the Republicans have plans to vet the last five years of social media posts of any foreigner intending to visit America.

Hahaha, well if your tourist industry wasn’t already completely fucked, thanks to the stupid orange racist rapist you placed not once but twice on the golden toilet seat of the presidency, it fucking is now! I’d sooner visit fucking North Korea than America in its current state! I’d rather go to fucking Doncaster! But apparently, all this shit just flies unchecked because there’s no one, not fucking one of you, prepared to slap this senile, infantile, pathologically narcissistic fuck around the chops and tell him to shove his fascism up his fat arse!

‘Adult content creator’ Bonnie Blue has backed Nigel Farage and Reform UK, stating she believes they have the best ideas for the country. She is also being deported from Bali for attempting to produce ‘barely legal’-themed pornographic videos.

Fuck me, Farage, you don’t half pick them! Or in this case, they pick you! You could lift up a large rock on a wet day and find less creepy, horrible fucking creatures under it than are currently infesting Reform UK! You might get into fucking power, thanks to the craven fucking uselessness of Labour, but I suspect once you’re there you’ll make Liz Truss’s tenure look like Franklin D Roosevelt’s by comparison! You’ll be in one of Bonnie’s fucking videos before you know it, and who wouldn’t want a ride on the ‘bang bus’ with Lee Anderson?

Tony Blair has been dropped from the ‘Board Of Peace’ mooted by Donald Trump to oversee Gaza, following objections from Arab and Muslim countries.

Hahaha, what a fucking shame, you were desperate to fucking sit on an elevated platform in a white jacket and plumed hat as fucking Viceroy of Gaza, weren’t you? ‘Peace’, my arse. The sort of ‘peace’ that emanates from a landscape of rubble with every human being displaced or dead. And now Trump’s shat you out you’re going to have to find some other arse to take up residence in, aren’t you? Why not try out your old pal Vladimir Putin for size, eh? A nice little anal dacha in his rectum, you ageing rocker vibe twat!

Finally, the government has unveiled its branding for Great British Railways, the rail company resulting from its partial re-nationalisation of the railways.

Fuck’s sake, what’s this ‘Great British’ about? We live here, we know how far from ‘great’ the reactionary, unequal, drizzly, tepid, racist, gormless, fawning Atlantic protrusion Britain is! And it’s not helped by the stewardship of the current bunch of cunts! Even fucking Jimmy Savile was happy with plain old ‘British Rail’! Of course we know what it’s about really – doggedly playing the patriotic card to win back Reform voters, because that’s worked so fucking well! Just call it what it is, at least it’d be a laugh asking for a return on Desperate Patriotic Bollocks Railways!

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He approaches from behind. Drops his trousers. Keir Starmer is ready to bugger our Brexit

By Abigail Pennson, our reasonable, plain-speaking middle-class columnist who has hated Venezuelans ever since one gazumped her on a house

HE pretended he wasn’t interested. ‘Brexit?’ he said, disingenuously, ‘Why on earth should I stage an entire election just to sexually violate that?’ 

‘Come on,’ he adds. ‘As if I would go to the trouble of running as Labour leader, reshaping the party, creating attractive though unworkable policies and becoming prime minister, to get unrestricted, unsupervised access to Brexit?’ The drool on his chin giving him away.

Oh, he knows. He’s bided his time: pretending he loved it, accepting it like a gay son, acting like he was indifferent to its sovereign charms. All the while consumed with his lust, envy and murderous intent.

Because ‘Sir’ Keir Starmer – that title’s going the same way as Andy’s – is a serial killer. And like all of his aberrant kind, his obsession with his victim is coupled with the urge to defile, despoil and end it.

He knows Brexit, once the apple of the nation’s eye, is neglected. Shoved into a remote outbuilding like a puppy on Boxing Day. He’s already given it a few preliminary roughings-up to see if anyone noticed. And now he’s planned himself a little Christmas treat.

When we’re all distracted watching the repeat of Gavin & Stacey, agreeing solemnly that fat people deserve each other, he will sneak out. Vaseline in one hand. Bridle in the other. Red, throbbing, bolt-hard.

Then he’ll take it. Mount it and not the right way either. Ride its pink ass, savouring its blind, terrified squeals, until he gets his satisfaction. And then do it again and again.

For that was this pervert’s plan all along. To bugger our Brexit senseless. His eyes bulging, his face red as the beetroot a family farm can no longer profitably grow, his tongue lolling out. And then to pick up a sledgehammer, raise it high, and murder it.

To be clear, none of the above is in the least metaphorical. I genuinely believe Keir Starmer intends to sodomise Brexit.