The Archbishop of Canterbury on… pot calls kettle an attention-seeking narcissist

13th June 2025

WAKING up with a hangover so intense and impactful it caused my dog to vomit, I reflect on the week’s diverting events.

Due to the fine weather, I extended my annual invite to my Catholic opposite number, Cardinal Green, to join me on the roof of the Palace for a spot of naked sunbathing, a custom that goes back to our Oxford days and nude swimming sessions at ‘Parson’s Pleasure’ on the Cherwell.

As the rays of the sun beat down, I must confess I was overcome with a certain drowsiness, perhaps exacerbated by spirituous liquor. I fall asleep and, as is often the case with a fellow in the arms of Morpheus, I become somewhat tumescent; ragingly so on this occasion.

Suddenly, the cardinal and I are aware of the whirring of helicopter blades. The paparazzi! I wake up, erection still rampant. As they take out their long lens cameras the cardinal, in a panic, puts a towel over his private parts and urges me to do the same, especially in my shameful condition. I do not. I place it over my face.

The next day, the tabloids are full of photos of the wretched cardinal, towel over his genitals, lying next to an unidentified fellow whose own member has been concealed by a black cross by the tabloid picture editors. All of this proves greatly humiliating for the cardinal; my own reputation remains untarnished.

With a wry smile, I take a light breakfast and peruse a periodical. Therein I read that Piers Morgan has described Greta Thunberg, who was part of a flotilla of activists en route to Gaza, as an ‘attention-seeking narcissist’.

Christ on a cock-shaped pogo stick! First up, Piers fucking Morgan flinging out accusations of being attention-seeking is like being accused by Bono of being a self-righteous, short-arsed, big-nosed, tax-avoiding twat! Second, attention-seeking was the entire fucking point of the operation! Bringing attention to what total, criminal, kid-starving cunts the fucking Israeli government are! But of course Greta Thunberg’s the fucking real villain of the piece here, isn’t she? So say all red-faced, middle-aged white English male wankers with balls a fraction of the fucking size of hers!

Rachel Reeves has delivered a rebuke to Conservative leader Kemi Badenoch, saying that being chancellor is ‘not a popularity contest’.

That’s just as fucking well in your case, isn’t it, you honking, charisma-free, miserable fucking streak of fuck-knows-what? Because you’re about as popular as a national outbreak of fucking dysentery! About as popular as a wet fart in a crowded lift! I could go on, so I will: you’re about as popular as rat souffle! About as popular as an un-lanced anal wart! About as popular as Keir fucking Starmer! Tax the fucking rich you craven, Osbornite fuck!

The BBC has announced plans to ‘restore the trust’ of Reform voters by altering its news output to ‘better reflect their worldview’.

You are yanking my fucking wankshaft, right? Seriously, you are tugging my cock out at the fucking roots, yes? ‘Better reflecting their worldview’, eh? Well, maybe you could start by having Nigel Farage on Question Time 33 fucking times? Or how about restoring the fucking trust of the millions of us who gave up on you years ago, fed up of your bizarre hard-on for the far-right and total exclusion of anyone with views to the fucking left of Peter Mandelson? You can suck up to Reform cunts all you like for whatever fucking perverse reasons but they’ll still think of the fucking BBC as run by men in pink frilly dresses who blow kisses at their posters of Karl Marx every fucking night before bedtime!

Finally, footage is circulating on social media of rock star Rod Stewart performing a cover of Oasis’s Cigarettes And Alcohol.

Oh, for fuck’s sake, Mary and Joseph going at it doggy style, having fucking seen this abomination I can never unsee or unhear it! I’m gonna need someone to suck my brains out of my fucking ear with a turbocharged hoover to wipe away this fucking memory! You’ve no business singing any fucking thing, let alone fucking Oasis, you shrivelled, death-dodging old cunt! Why didn’t you just pull down your trousers and do a steaming shit on the fucking stage?

A white home counties roadman goes on a class trip to Chessington World of Rank

12th June 2025

Fifteen-year-old Active J, known in his detached home as Joshua Hudson, ‘as da rankest day hever on him’s school trip.

WAGWAN? Man ’as been on a rollercoaster ride, fam, literally and megaphorically. Active J woz bare uninspired to swag at a toddler theme park, called Chessington Worlds of Hadventure.

Miss Jackson ‘ad horganised it as a no school drip event, so Active J woz flexin’ boxfresh North Face t-shirt, cap an’ shorts, crisp white Nike socks wiv man’s second-best, crease-free Jordan 1s. Man woz swaggin’ leng nang, innit.

Peng gyal, Lady G, wanted to feed da giraffe animals, an’ dry long-neck knobhead pulled Active J’s North Face cap off wiv its mingin’ mouth. Labels on, still.

Den dickhead Drillla wanted to go on da Mandrill Mayhemp rollercoaster, or sumfink. So mandem crew queued up for time, but couldn’t chug fruity vapes coz Miss Jackson so just ‘ad multiple cans of Monster. Active J woz bare jittery goin’ on da rollercoaster, coz Monster, fam.

Da ride woz not peng, fam. Not peng at all. It went up an’ down an’ movin’ bare schitz. Miss Jackson woz uber-shook, Active J ad’ to hold her’s hand bare tight, an’ some bruv woz screamin’ to get off. Not man I know.

When da ride stopped Miss Jackson her’s hand hurtin’, but Active J had little bit sick on him’s North Face top, from da Monster. So man ‘ad to wash him’s top in da toilets, but man ‘ad too many sneaky vape chugs in there an’ woz sick hagain. Bare grim.

Lady G den took Active J on boat ride called Tigers Rocks. Dat woz nang huntil it climbed up a ramp an’ dived into a henormous wet puddle. Wot is dat habout, bruv? Active J woz turbo-vexed, innit. All da NPCs woz starin’ at Active J, but not for finkin’ man is boss, dem woz finkin’ man woz jokes for ragin’. Wastemans.

Da day woz rank, fam. Active J woz hunrecognisable, coz man ‘ad to hendure da hoomiliation of buyin’ a loud Chessington brand tee from da gift shop an’ carry him’s sicky North Face top in an Lidl bag. A Lidl bag, fam!

Fam, a knobhead giraffe ‘ad thieved man’s cap, man’s shorts woz wet an’ him’s Jordan’s woz squelchy, like man ‘ad done a haccident. None of dis would ‘ave ‘appended if man ‘ad worn him’s Cole Buxton puffer jacket wiv da hood. Clapped.

Man woz low an’ deep. Heveryone woz snappin’ man. Active J woz a walkin’ hoptic for theme park memes, an’ spent da rest of da day out of da way on deadman Gruffalo ride. But den, a park mugbot sed woz it ok to use man’s photos for promotion an’ ting.

So who is on da theme park’s Insta haccount, bustin’ swag an’ throwin’ gangsta shapes? You is correct, fam; Active J is da official boss roadman of Chessington Muggle World of Rank, innit. Wot a day! Gassed.