The Archbishop of Canterbury on… does anyone NOT go on a 'journey' now?

WAKING with a hangover so intense it has caused the internet to crash across central London, I reflect on the events of the past week, particularly my ongoing involvement with Songs Of Praise

Since I agreed to participate in the show, it has become the most popular programme on the BBC. In 1998 it had a viewership of just six million; today that has been boosted to 20 million. It would be false modesty on my part to deny that this is due to my ‘lively’ interventions.

This week I had a criticism, however. Each episode now begins with a caption reading: ‘WARNING. This show may contain foul language of a sexual nature, scenes of violence, headbutting and mud wrestling, denial of the existence of God and farm animals dressed in women’s clothing for a laugh.’

I emailed the show’s producers and said that rather than presenting all of this as a warning, it should be central to the promotion of the show. Something along the lines of: ‘All new 21st century Songs Of Praise! INCLUDING: Foul language of a sexual nature! Scenes of violence! Headbutting!’ Mud wrestling!’ and so forth.

The producers agreed and sure enough, the latest viewing figures have leapt to 25 million. Truly, the Word is being spread. 

With a satisfied air, I take a light breakfast and peruse a periodical. Therein I read that former first lady Michelle Obama is releasing a new book about her style choices in the White House, describing it as ‘a reflection on my lifelong journey with fashion, hair, and beauty’.

Oh, for cunt’s sake, does everything these days have to be a fucking ‘journey’? You’re not on a fucking pilgrimage to Canterbury, you’re having your fucking hair done, probably at about $500 a pop! You’re getting sent designer clothes for fuck all! Are we seriously supposed to find this inspirational, or comparable to heading for Mecca along a dusty trail with just your fucking staff for company? (And by that I mean a fucking stick, not a retinue of 100 people including, no doubt, a fucking style consultant.) The world’s in the toilet, fuck off with this shit!

Zia Yusuf has resigned as the chairman of Reform UK, saying working to get the party elected was no longer ‘a good use of my time’. He also criticised a Reform MP as ‘dumb’ after they called for the banning of burkas. 

Mate, I’ve got to fucking ask you: what in the name of Christ’s cock made you think you were a good fit with the fucking Reform party in the first place? Did you not look around and notice that its membership was as racist as a box of fascist frogs? I mean, did it not fucking occur to you, as you met the Enoch Powell fanboys, golf club Nazis and golliwog enthusiasts, that your sole function was to act as a human fucking fig leaf?

Robert Jenrick has continued his campaign against antisocial behaviour after personally confronting fare dodgers on the Tube. 

Ooh, well done, Robbo! Getting to the root cause of the UK’s financial deficit there! It’s good that when you were a housing minister you didn’t illegally intervene in a planning decision to try and save a party donor £45 million! Or make a £100,000 expenses claim for a ‘third home’! Or act like a pointless, flabby, bacon-faced cunt in general! We beg of you – carry on with this vigilante shit and be sure to keep the camera running when you get the fucking shit kicked out of you!

Finally, both Keir Starmer and Rachel Reeves have said they want to tear up ‘red tape’ that protects nature – bats, newts and the like – and hinders development.

Fuck me sideways, it’s pretty fucking clear what you two dead-eyed psychos mean by ‘development’! So the Labour Party is anti-nature now, due to it being the enemy of fucking shit, overpriced new-builds? You’ve fucked over the rivers, fucked over the air, now it’s the turn of wildlife, is that it? Do you actually have reflections in the mirror any more, either of you? They should replace Springwatch with Cuntwatch, in which Chris Packham monitors the latest ruinous, anti-environmental shit you pair of loathsome fucks have been up to!

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Come with me as I move to a council estate in Luton, by Ncuti Gatwa

SO that’s it, babes. My time as the Doctor is done. I’m packing up my sonic screwdriver and getting the hell out of there while the going is good, babes.

But where will I ‘regenerate’ next? I’d always planned to do two series and move on. You’re probably thinking: is that to pursue proper roles where I won’t have to run around as much and cry like a girl all the time? 

No. It’s to relocate to a place close to my heart. My great escape. My spiritual home. Somewhere I’ve been secretly dreaming of spending the rest of my years. A council estate in Luton.

Some crave the baking sun of Tuscany, others the dramatic Swiss Alps. But for me, my happy place, the place I want to retire into anonymity in among my true people, is the jewel of Bedfordshire. A gem hidden just off the M1. Luton.

I first fell in love with Luton after seeing it every week on 24 Hours in Police Custody. It looked like such a vibrant community, filled with characterful robbers and drug dealers, with the authenticity of the threat of violence around every corner.

And so I took all of my Whovian cash and bought an entire row of houses on the Marsh Farm Estate. I plan to knock them all through and make a kind of council house mega-mansion. In a town which won’t judge me for leaving my TARDIS on the front lawn, falling into disrepair as the grass grows around it. 

That, to me, is bliss. But I am respectful of the local culture. To fit in I have already purchased a giant flatscreen TV for every room – nine in all – and I’ll have CCTV coming out of my yazoo. Not that I’ll need it with half a dozen XL Bullies!

Once I’m settled in I’ll drift off to the sound of sirens, 4am police raids and swearing in the streets. Then I’ll know I’m finally home and ready to get on with the next exciting chapter in my life. Plus it’s handily located for the Nisa Local. Could it be any more perfect?