The Archbishop of Canterbury on... the cock-chugging of David Beckham

6th October 2023

WAKING in Manchester with my mouth dry and my hands conspiciously bloodied, I recall with a smile the fretful events that lead me here.

I had travelled to the Conservative Party Conference to deliver a speech at a fringe meeting, informally titled ‘Shape Up, You Fascist Wankers’, which had been taken extremely well.

Heading home in my Archbishop’s garb, I came across a gang of Tory conference goers who had just emerged from the prime minister’s speech, rowdy, fired-up, and tearing off their shirts.

‘There’s one!’ their leader shouted. ‘He’s wearing a dress! He’s trying to get into a women’s hospital ward! Get him!’ They tore toward me, foaming at the mouth, chanting ‘Grooom-ah! Grooom-ah!’ most intimidatingly when I turned tail and ran.

Passing a butcher, I remembered the curious phrase ‘throwing red meat to the base’ and considered that, given my plight, it was worth a try. Scooping up raw steak I flung it onto the pavement before the closing throng and sure enough, like a herd of famished lions, they seized upon the meat, forgetting about me, fighting among themselves.

That, and my subsequent knife-fight in a lift with Michael Gove, explains the blood. With a wry smile, I read that at the same conference Penny Mordaunt exhorted the faithful to ‘stand up and fight’ more than a dozen times.

Mother Mary on a fucking e-scooter, what the fuck was that about? Fight? Fight who? What? Each other? Shapps and Hunt hurling themselves at each other in loincloths? It’d help if you’d given us the faintest hint as to what in holy fucking shit you were on about! Fight for what? Against what? That was the perfect fucking speech for a party who’ve had their collective brains, already shrivelled to the size of a baby artichoke, evacuated by the hot jetwash of their own incoherent far-right rhetoric! You’ve fuck all to say and fuck all to do for the country now that you’ve pretty much stripped it to the fucking bone! You’re reduced to the level of David Brent goosestepping about doing a Basil Fawlty impression! Just absolutely fuck right off to extinction!

David Beckham hit back at critics of his ambassadorial role at the Qatar World Cup, claiming the LBGTQ+ community had never felt safer at a tournament while fellow former Red Jordan Henderson, now playing in Saudi Arabia, backed the country’s bid for the 2034 World Cup.

Fuck me, a right pair of PC goody-fucking-two-boots you pair used to be – rainbow bootlaces, queer allyship, the lot. Now look at the state of you! Why didn’t you tell us you were so hard up you were forced to shill for Middle Eastern dictatorships? We’d have had a fucking whip round! LBGTQ+ community safe in Qatar, my fucking scrotum! Sure, they’ll be having a Pride demo next year. pink hot pants, the lot! As for you, Henderson, the 2034 World Cup? Unless the Saudis let up on ravaging the climate in their lust for petrodollars, there isn’t gonna be a fucking 2034!

A concert residency by the Irish rock band U2 has begun at the high-tech Sphere at the Venetian Resort in Paradise, Nevada, in the Las Vegas Valley.

I’d rather have my ringpiece hand-removed without aesthetic by a gorilla with less than adequate surgical training and made to swallow it than spend a nanosecond in this colossal, conceited monument to rock ego placed in the most culturally-parched region on the fucking planet! An enormodome for social media-addled twats who prefer not to actually watch the event they’ve paid to see, instead holding up their fucking phones to catch it later! A folly visible from outer space as a reminder to passing alien civilisations not to bother landing on this cunt-infested planet!

Finally, on the Today Podcast after Nick Robinson enthused about about the millions Sunak had made in business, Amol Rajan added ‘The key to understanding [Sunak] is that he is an investor.’

God’s planet-sized bollocks, would you pair of smug, gleeful, gurgling, gullible, power-worshipping hacks with your little monkey hard-ons about access to Downing Street give it a fucking rest? Yeah, fucking right he’s an ‘investor’; a pathological opportunist and the last cunt you want running a fucking economy! Do you think a jumped-up shark like Sunak gives a shit about welfare, the environment, protection of minorities and all the other basic duties of care a government has to his people? Evidently fucking not! So spare us the chumminess and do your fucking jobs!

'Look at what you've done. Made me into a prostitute. My father was right,' says my wife, after introducing me on stage

5th October 2023

From the diary of Rishi Sunak, Britain’s change candidate

‘I WILL never recover from this humiliation,’ Akshata says. ‘Ordering me – me! – onto the stage in front of your tawdry pensioners to praise you.

‘I had to stand there, in front of the whole world, and say I was your best friend. How will I hold my head up back in Mumbai? What will Davos say about this?’

‘My father warned me. He knew no good could come of marrying so far beneath my station. I thought I’d be funding your failed start-ups. I never imagined… this.’

‘It’s a reset,’ I say confidently. ‘Makes me look presidential, your coming on stage.’ ‘Paraded like that cheap whore Carrie,’ she says. ‘The shame.’

‘And after that what do you do? Cancel a train? The country that covered India in railways cannot manage to connect three cities, and you boast about it. It’s your keynote policy.

‘What do you expect, that they will applaud you? Say how much it was like JFK’s famous speech about not going to the moon? You were as presidential as Hunter Biden.’

Akshata is just shy. Many multi-millionaires are, I’ve noticed. But in truth the conference hadn’t gone as hoped. Liz got queues, Suella got cheers and I got asked about HS2 so much I worry it wasn’t convincing when I decided spontaneously to scrap it mid-speech.

‘Did I come across as the change candidate?’ I ask Akshata. ‘Was I meant to look like Michelle Obama out there?’ she replied. ‘Anyway at least it is the last conference. This time next year? Free.’