The Archbishop of Canterbury on… staunchly defending the right to kick people's heads in

16th January 2026

WAKING up with a hangover so intense its radioactive energy causes the authorities to seal off the Lambeth area with soldiers in hazmat suits, I reflect upon another tumultuous week.

There was great media excitement when I announced my intention to renounce my previous affiliations and defect to Reform UK. A press conference was arranged for Wednesday afternoon, and due to this involving Nigel Farage, all normal programming was suspended as the event went out live on all the main channels.

Press cameras flashed as Mr Farage and I smiled and gave the thumbs-up gesture. Then, questions from journalists.

“Archbishop, I wonder what caused this change of heart, as only a few weeks ago you described Mr Farage as a ‘loathsome, frog-eyed, grifting racist whose rise to power is as welcome as Hitler’s’?”

I could not lie so I said, “Yes, I said that, yes. But -”

Another reporter interjected: “You also said that Mr Farage was ‘a lying piece of ordure, a suppurating parasite who has dragged Britain into the toilet of ignominy and better if he had died in that plane crash’.”

“Well, yes, those were my words but -”

Finally: “Archbishop, in blunt terms you described Mr Farage as: ‘A cunt. The worst cunt in Britain. The cunt to end all cunts.’ That was just four hours ago. What do you say now?”

Thoughtfully, I replied: “Yeah, you’ve persuaded me. Don’t know what I was thinking. Sorry, Farage, you can fuck off.” And then I quit the stage. I do hope that Reform’s declining polling figures were not the result of this public expose of Mr Farage’s foibles.

Whatever, I muse as I take a light breakfast and peruse a periodical. Therein, I read that Donald Trump has announced his intention to take possession of Greenland.

Really? It’s a country a week now with you, isn’t it? A few weeks ago, you bombed Nigeria. Then it was Venezuela. Then Greenland. Now Iran. Who’s next before the end of the fucking month? Canada? Cuba? New Zealand? In Venezuela they’re sitting there wondering what the fuck happens next, or have you forgotten about them already, you mentally incontinent fuck? Ever heard of following through, and I don’t mean the daily horrorshow that occurs in your fucking underpants? But no, it’s onto the next one fucking ASAP. Another six months of this bullshit and you’ll be reduced to threatening Malta, Tuvalu and fucking San Marino!

X, formerly known as Twitter, says it will restrict the ‘Grok’ application’s ability to edit pictures of women and girls to make them appear to be dressed in bikinis and so forth. The restrictions, however, have been dismissed as barely adequate.

You know what? Musk is just a fucking incorrigible, Nazi-saluting, perverted piece of grotesque fucking scum who needs firing out of a cannon into a nearby burning bonfire at the first fucking opportunity! But we know that. What does it say about the rest of us that we allow a cloven-hoofed, monstrous fucking lump of blood-red shit like him rule the world, instead of just knuckling down and stuffing him into the cannon already? Aliens must be looking at us wondering what the fuck we’re doing! Not that Musk’s exploding, fraud-on-a-massive-scale spaceships will be helping us meet them!

Amol Rajan has announced plans to leave Radio 4’s Today and set up a private company.

You know, it’s a mystery how a tiny tepid tosser like you ever floated to the top at the BBC, even by their lamentably vacuous fucking standards! You’re a fucking hack! It took fucking Gary Lineker to explain to you that all wasn’t all peaceful and well between Israel and Palestine prior to fucking 7 October! A fucking ex-footballer! And now you’re leaving, telling BBC News: “Del Boy was my hero growing up, and it’s time to unleash my inner entrepreneur.” So you’ll be back on the BBC loads but with a better financial arrangement due to owning your own company? Yeah, that’s pretty fucking Del Boy!

Finally, home secretary Shabana Mahmood says she has lost confidence in West Midlands Police’s chief constable after Israeli football fans were banned from a match against Aston Villa.

Yeah, right. After he recklessly ensured Birmingham wasn’t subjected to the visit of a known bunch of fucking scumbags with a track record of running amok in city centres, chanting for the death of Arabs and laughing at kids killed by the fucking IDF! Of the many hills Labour is choosing to die on, siding with football hooligans over the police is the fucking weirdest! Hooligans, whether it’s Millwall or Red Star Belgrade, get banned all the fucking time and normal people are just fine with that. If it wasn’t obviously just the government’s slavish devotion to Israel, you could be forgiven for thinking Shabana has a secret hankering to join the Chelsea Headhunters and get out there with a fucking Stanley knife!

No wonder people die in here eating this shite: The gammon food critic's hospital experience

15th January 2026

Reviews by Justin Tanner, our retired food critic, who is convinced everyone on The Traitors is shagging like they do on Strictly.

I’VE been in hospital. Had my varicose veins stripped and they kept me in a couple of nights. After 40 years of paying taxes, I was expecting some nice pampering. How wrong was I?

I was stuck on a bloody trolley for hours like an abandoned big shop on an Aldi car park, and it was ‘nil by mouth’ so I was already starving when I got there. Then again, I’ve had ‘nil by mouth’ for decades, if you catch my drift. Not that my ex-wife was generous with the blowjobs, the lazy cow.

Anyway it’s ten hours before I get to theatre, probably because they were treating asylum seekers first on the direct orders of Starmer. They wanted to keep me under observation after ‘because of my age’. Cheeky bastards, I’m only 62.

The next morning I’m famished, so I’m expecting a full English before I waste away. Then they bring the menu. Toast. Fruit. Yoghurt. Bloody cereal. Do I look like a budgie? I suppose they can’t offer the ‘full English’ in case it offends the staff. Did I mention all the nurses on the ward are brown, shipped in from God-knows-where to take the jobs of British people. But I’m not racist, so I don’t bring it up.

I have a couple of slices of toast, which is dry as f**k and stone cold. And no proper butter, just low-fat margarine because it’s ‘healthier’. It’s no exaggeration to say the NHS is like living in Nazi Germany.

Lunchtime arrives but there’s little to cheer about. Boiled egg sandwiches. Cheese sandwiches. More sodding fruit. It’s no wonder people die in here when they’re being fed this shite.

And it’s made the nurses pissed off with me. Apparently pressing my emergency buzzer to ask one of them to pop to Maccy D’s and fetch a quarter-pounder with cheese is not what it’s intended for. I’d get better treatment if I was in an asylum hostel – all the pizza I could eat, plus I need a phone upgrade.

Finally it’s dinnertime, and another uninspiring choice of fare including curry – probably for the staff’s benefit – baked potato, or cottage pie.

I opt for the pie, which I’ve never understood the name of. Shepherd’s pie I get, but since when did cows live in cottages? It’s tasteless mush with a bit of minced beef and carrots in, topped with dry mash you could use to re-point a gable end wall.

I eventually fall asleep stone cold sober for the first time in years and have confused dreams about being chased by a giant Domino’s Meat Feast.

Finally they let me go the following morning after seeing the doctor, who, unsurprisingly, is also a foreign. I’m told to stay away from fatty foods and excessive alcohol. Me? I’m practically a teetotal vegan. You have to play the game, don’t you?

My verdict? Mass immigration has turned our once-great NHS into Guantanamo Bay. I can’t wait until Nigel becomes PM and sorts it out. There’s still the £350 million a week from Brexit they’ve not spent yet, so we could have nurses like Barbara Windsor bringing you a mixed grill from Spoons. I’ll email and mention it to him.