The Archbishop of Canterbury on… shafting Andy Burnham, another brilliant vote-winning Labour idea

23rd January 2026

WAKING with a hangover so intense I make a mental note to compose a sermon titled ‘The Sin Of Sluggishness: Scientists’ Failure To Make Any Advance In Head Transplant Surgery’, and reflect upon another momentous week.

Our prime minister Sir Keir Starmer said ‘British pragmatism’ had helped resolve the Greenland crisis, and now I can reveal my own, modest role in that pragmatism.

I had been asked to intervene with Mr Trump. In a personal meeting, I told him that I had been authorised, on Europe’s behalf, to grant him the kingdom of Greenland and to appoint him its monarch.

I arranged for him to meet with me at a certain European location, dismissing his staff. I bid him sit in a bath chair, which I informed him was his ‘mobile throne’. I trundled him through the gates of an institution which, despite the prominent words ‘Rest Home’, I assured him was the entrance to Greenland.

Settled on the extensive, verdant grounds of the home, I told him this was ‘Green Land’, his own fiefdom. Placing a plastic crown on his head, I said he was about to become King Donald the First of Greenland, and had him sign papers, commitment papers as it happened, to confirm his regnancy. Then left the cunt to it.

With a wry smile, I take a light breakfast and peruse a periodical. Therein I read that prior to his commitment, Mr Trump appointed a ‘Board of Peace’ to oversee Gaza’s future, whose members include Marco Rubio and, by invitation, Vladimir Putin as well as Benjamin Netanyahu.

Fuck my cock with a small stick, what kind of hellish, sick, trolling fucking bollocks is this? What do you fucking mean by ‘peace’? It’s hard to have anything other than ‘peace’ in a territory that’s been razed to the ground, with every building destroyed, every man, woman, child and dog fucking dead! I note that Yvette Cooper turned down a place on the Board, but you could invite fucking Satan and even he’d think it’s a sick joke. Tony Blair’s delighted to be involved, though. Draw your own fucking conclusions there!

The Beckhams have been in the spotlight all week following Brooklyn’s statement that he wanted nothing to do with his parents, who he claims have greatly interfered in his life, particularly his marriage.

Where to fucking begin? Well, first up ‘Posh’ Spice needs to be renamed ‘Creepy, Psychotic, Mad As A Box Of Skeletal Frogs Spice’ because this shit is next-level fucked up, like the Virgin Mary coming on to Jesus! Even so, what sort of fucking fiddling is reading about this twattery when the world’s burning? ‘Sorry about not stopping global warming before it was too late,’ we can tell our grandkids. ‘We were too busy obsessing over an ex-girlband singer who couldn’t stand her daughter-in-law and a nepo baby who was a shit pretend chef.’ Sure they’ll fucking understand!

A poll has suggested that among 18- to 24-year-olds in the UK, 45 per cent would vote Green, 20 per cent Labour, and nine per cent for Reform, the same for the Tories.

Right, okay, good on the fucking 45 per cent but shaft me with my own staff, only 45? What the fuck is wrong with the rest of you dopey cunts? This is like a Christmas poll for turkeys – 45 per cent against, the rest divided or ‘don’t know’. It’s your fucking funeral but maybe stop scrolling TikTok and chanting ‘six seven’ and take an interest in the environmentally-fucked quicksand you’re descending into? Seriously, which youthful morons can see the merits of boiling alive as sea levels rise ten feet in their mid-30s?

Finally, it seems that Starmer’s allies have launched a ‘Stop Andy Burnham’ campaign to block his return to parliament and make a bid for the Labour leadership.

Christ, yes, thank goodness! Let’s organise and pull out all the stops to prevent anyone trying to halt Labour’s triumphant plunge to the seabed in the opinion polls, with Morgan McSweeney at the helm like fucking Ringo Starr in Yellow Submarine! And when we hit the bottom, let’s start digging! Let’s carry on making no fucking headway with flag-shagging, demonising asylum seekers, sucking billionaire cock and generally helping Farage move in to 10 Downing Street. Plus we can lose loads of votes by looking like scheming bastards plotting against one of the few Labour politicians people actually want to vote for! What’s not to like, if you’re a dense centrist cunt?

A white home counties roadman suffers da rank consequences of misrememberin' peng gyal's birthday

22nd January 2026

FIFTEEN-year-old Active J, known in his detached home as Joshua Hudson, is in hot water for forgetting his girlfriend’s birthday.

DA other day Lady G hasked if we woz doin’ anyfink special hafter school. Active J sed: ‘Man will bust some righteous rap an’ do da laces in him’s 95s in a peng different way, innit.’

An’ she woz like: ‘Is dat all man finks habout, rappin’ an’ him’s nang 95s?‘ Man sed: ‘Yeah, wot is your point?’ An her sed: ‘Parentdem is takin’ Lady G to da fancypants restaurant tonight, called Flush, for her birthday scran. Remember, birthday?’

Man sed: ‘Why is you not bustin’ Maccy’s?’ An’ den Lady G went hyper-volcanic, fam. Her sed she never wants to see man hever hagain. An’ den she ended our 1,200 day Snapchat streak. Man knew den him woz in a bare deep beef ting.

Da day hafter in school all da gyaldem woz lookin’ haway an’ havoidin’ eye contact. Drilla sed it woz coz Active J ‘ad disrespected Lady G by forgettin’ her birthday. You throw shade on one gyal, you throw shade on all gyaldem. Even Miss Jackson sed she ‘ad heard habout man’s trouble an’ man needs to be nice to Lady G.

Da next day woz a non-ooniform day, so Joshua Hudson ‘ad to make a happearance to make up for Active J bein’ a bare badass. Man ‘ad to muggle-up an’ wear St. Michael peach polo shirt, Chinos the colour of sick an’ brown shoes. Rank!

Da next morning Joshua woz not flexin’ swag. Man woz hidin’ in da shadows, but crewdem saw Joshua an’ started laughin’ like hidiots. Joshua woz oomiliated an’ woz all over Hinsta an’ Snapchat in seconds, fam.

Den, out of nowhere, Lady G happeared wiv gyaldem crew in a Mandarin Cheesecake fog, her favourite breakfast vape. Miss Jackson sed to pay Lady G a compliment, so Joshua sed: ‘Hello, Lady G. Your teeth look pretty, have you just brushed them?’

Lady G an’ da gyaldem just looked haway. Man sed: ‘Joshua is sorry he misremembered your birthday and super sorry for always thinking about himself and being a bossman roadman.’ Lady G an’ da gyaldem just crossed dem’s arms an’ kept lookin’ haway. Man limped off coz him’s muggle shoes woz rubbin’. Dat woz da lowest low of all lows, fam.

But den some learnbot gyals den crowded round man, sayin’: ‘Would you like help with your algebra, Joshua?’ An’: ‘Hi Josh, can I do the crop rotation homework with you?’ Joshua woz peng wiv da learnbot gyaldem, innit.

Den Lady G noticed an’ scattered da crowd of learnbots, an’ sed to man: ‘Lady G thanks Joshua Hudson for making a heffort, but doesn’t like Joshua as much as Active J. You is not a brand muggle, you is my hench bossman roadman. Now take dem rankman shoes off an’ swag hafter me to where man belongs.’

At da hastroturf, Lady G gave man a new Rhubarb Crumble vape. We chugged together an’ da fog made a heart shape in da cold air. Active J an’ Lady G kissed, an’ chugged hagain. Gassed, fam. Uber gassed!