The Archbishop of Canterbury on… the eternal puzzle of whether the Earth is round or flat

16th May 2025

WAKING up with a hangover that would cause a blue whale to turn green and let out farts and belches generating waves liable to upend distant fishing boats, I reflect on my week.

My ecclesiastical workload involved devising new guidelines on the language vicars and clerics should use in sermons, religious writings and so forth. A key element is that certain words are ‘OUT’.

OUT is the word ‘Almighty’ – it carries with it an air of grovelling sycophancy to a deity who has proven remarkably weak in lifting a finger to help out the species he supposedly created.

OUT is ‘Lord’. It smacks of feudalism and something the supposedly humble, donkey-riding, sockless Jesus was dead against. Also OUT is ‘saviour’ – saved us from what? Godzilla?

However IN are the words ‘fuck’, ‘shit’, ‘arse’, ‘twat’, ‘knob’, ‘wanker’ and ‘cunt’. This is the Church of England and these words are some of the eldest in the English language, embedded in its foundational rock. They should be used at every opportunity; robust language to meet the robust challenges of these extraordinary times.

Satisfied with having brought the church back in line with the 21st century, I take a light breakfast and peruse a periodical. Therein I read that Keir Starmer has made a speech decrying immigration, citing the ‘incalculable’ damage it has done to the economy and worrying aloud that the UK is becoming an ‘island of strangers’.

Listen you flabby-faced, chinless, spineless, gutless sack of useless fuck, the reason the damage done to the economy is incalculable is because it doesn’t exist! We fucking well know what you’re doing, you lying twat! You shat your pants over the Reform vote and decided you were gonna have to do a Farage tribute act to keep up, like Brotherhood Of Man to fucking ABBA! Seriously, the word ‘cunt’ is too weak for you. I may as well call you a ‘rotter’. Swearologists need to get to work in their laboratories coming up with a new, horrifically unpleasant, ultra-offensive epithet that conveys the fucking depths to which you’ve sunk this time, Keith!

Bruce Springsteen has decried the Trump administration, describing them as ‘treasonous’ and ‘authoritarian’ in lengthy, eloquent speeches at the beginning of his UK tour.

Yeah, well, nice one. But talk about too fucking little too late. Maybe back in 1985 when you were truly enormous and singing Born In The USA, which became a patriotic anthem if ever there was one, you should have been a bit more clear in the fucking verses so future MAGA twats could hear what the fuck you were talking about! It should have been dripping with irony but it came out as: ‘MMMGHHH – OOGGHUURRR – GHGGHHH – RRRRGGHH – BORN IN THE USA!’ Diction, man, diction! You fucked it right up there!

The possible next president of Romania, far-right politician George Simion, has said on a podcast and that scientists should tell us conclusively if the Earth is flat or round because he feels this is something they’ve been unclear on.

Tell you fucking what, George, why don’t you fucking find out yourself? Get in a boat, sail as far as you can in any direction and find out if the world’s the shape of a fucking pizza. If it is, you’ll fall right off the edge and good riddance, you fascist cunt! if it isn’t, you’ll come back with your tail between your legs, admit you were full of shit and withdraw your candidacy for president out of fucking shame! Everyone’s a winner! And fucking hell, Romania, way to go for electing a hooligan fuckwit who makes Ceaușescu look like Nelson fucking Mandela!

Finally, Oasis have announced that despite their reunion, they will not be producing ‘any new music’.

Well, fine, we could do with a morsel of fucking good news in these wretched times, but face it, you pair of fucking clods, you never produced any ‘new music’ in your entire fucking career! Your produced old music, by The Beatles, by The Stones and a bunch of 60s and 70s artists, rehashed into a stale white bread shit sandwich flavoured with fucking fag ash! New music? You ripped off Cliff fucking Richard!

A white home counties roadman wants you to keep schtum, coz man 'as a fake ID, innit

15th May 2025

FIFTEEN-year-old Active J, known in his detached home as Joshua Hudson, is an adult now. Because he’s paid someone dodgy to prove it with a fake ID.

WAGWAN? Active J does not sleep wiv da big light on anymore, coz man’s ID sez him’s a genuine hadult an’ can now buy fruity vapes legit, over da counter, innit.

Do not grass man up, fam, but man paid a sketchy bruv to create a hultra-dodgy fake ID for Active J, coz dis Saturday mandem crew are goin’ to a gangsta moosic festival, an’ bruvs an’ gyals ‘as to be a hadult to get in. Man is hyper-gassed!

Dis is not da first fake ID man ‘as ‘ad though, fam. Last week man took Lady G to da cinema, innit, to watch a scary horror film ting dat woz an 18 rating to try him’s new fake ID dat Drilla’s older bruv sorted out for man.

We stopped at da fog shop first for cocktail vapes. Man bought Lady G a super-fruity Pina Colada, an’ Active J swagged a Tequila Sunrise. Man an’ peng gyal woz bare bustin’ bein’ hadults chuggin’ on our legit vapes, fam.

But at da cinema da wasteman ticketbruv hasked for ID, him sed: ‘Wot’s your date of birth?’

Man sed: ‘It’s on da card, innit. Does you need glasses, bruv?’ Den him sed: ‘I know you, you’re dat posh prick Hudson from three years below me in school dat finks him’s a gangsta rapper.’

An’ him confiscated man’s ID. Dat cost Active J 40 big ones, an’ 15 more for da Tango Ice Blasts an’ toffee popcorn, innit. Man woz not wastin’ dem, so we watched da Minecraft movie hinstead wiv all da fidgetin’ brand muggle toddlers goin’ to da toilet hevery two minutes. Man woz livid an’ ting. Dickhead Drilla got a poundin’ for dat. Some bruv ‘ad to.

So to get in da festival, man ‘as ‘ad to pay hextra for another fake ID, bare rapid. Active J ‘ad learned him’s lesson dis time an’ gave da sketchy bruv da hinfo manself. But forgot, innit, dat da ID would be posted to man’s crib an’ parentdem might open da henvelope, or hinterrogate Joshua to find out him’s secret an’ ground man.

So, Active J ‘as ‘ad to hinvent a sickie to be in for da post bein’ delivered, but not one bare rank enough dat man can’t bust swag at da festival. So parentdem told school dat Joshua ‘as da morning sickness, or sumfink. Turbo-nang!

Mandem crew all ‘ave da fake IDs, but dem’s all say dem is 18. Man is not takin’ bare risks like dat, Active J would look a hidiot if man sed him woz only 18, so on da fresh ID man is 25, innit. An’ dis time in da photo man is not wearin’ him’s clapped shirt an’ tie school ooniform. Man is wearin’ him’s boxfresh, head-drip Yankees cap an’ doin’ an angryman scowl, like Donny Trump on him’s mugshot.

An’ man made hultra-sure of bein’ a hadult by puttin’ ‘Bossman Active J’ as man’s name. Cannot wait for Saturday, fam, bare nothin’ can go wrong, innit. Gassed! Gassed! Gassed!