The Archbishop of Canterbury on... the lost deposit and stamped-flat bollocks of Laurence Fox

WAKING in a sealed coffin in total darkness, I yawn after coming to following the most pleasant three days’ sleep in my life. 

The much-needed rest followed a very convivial session with Aled Jones and Katherine Jenkins which stretched to five days in duration until the Three Stags declared itself drunk dry and Katherine, excitable as she becomes during a session, fell to the red mist.

Stretching, I hear the muted murmur of what seems to be some sort of funeral oration. I realise that my imbecilic clerk, finding me at deep peace in the gutters, has taken me for dead and my personal physician, who has regrettable issues with alcohol, corroborated this.

Hammering loudly on the inside of the coffin, I accompany my efforts with some ripe language unsuitable for daytime broadcasting as I imagine our Lord and Saviour did in similar circumstances. ‘This is the fourth time in as many months,’ I shout.

Once the lid is frantically unscrewed and opened I leap out like a lion unchained, snarl at a shocked congregation, pop into the off licence for later and repair to my chambers, there to peruse a periodical. Therein, I read that Prince Charles, apparently now calling himself King, is to receive a substantial pay rise.

Dip my cock in boiling vinegar and consecrate my throbbing balls, for fucking what? You’ve been on the throne a year now and all you’ve done is lumber around from red carpet to red carpet looking ruddy-faced and grumpy! You’re useless at the job. You’re the worst King we’ve had since Fat fucking George! Some people can hack it, some people can’t. Take me, I can’t abide religion but I’m a shit-hot Archbishop, I’ve just got the knack. You haven’t got the knack for shit, you throne-filling sack of unburst fucking capillaries! Get the fuck off the pot and let some other cunt have a go!

Susan Hall has been chosen as the Conservative candidate for London Mayor to face the incumbent, Sadiq Khan.

Fuck me sideways, have you fucking seen her? She looks like the sort who gets knocked out in the first round of Pointless for giving ‘David Cameroon’ as an answer! Are you fucking serious, Tories? Or have you got some sort of Springtime For Hitler side bet that she crashed out with just 100 votes? Or is the plan to get her on Have I Got News For You as the butt of everyone’s jokes and have her rise to power that way?

Country singer Jason Aldean has released single Try That In A Small Town, in which he sings about those who might ‘sucker-punch somebody on a sidewalk,’ ‘pull a gun on the owner of a liquor store’ or ‘cuss out a cop, spit in his face, stomp on the flag and light it up,’ warning them to ‘try that in a small town’ and ‘see how far ya make it down the road.’

This would be the epidemic of American flag burning that only exists in your walnut redneck fucking mind? You’ve had a bellyful of it, huh? Fucking shitkicker! Maybe you should have called it ‘Try Being Black In A Small Town’. See how far you make it down the road when you’re out for a fucking jog in broad daylight before a posse of armed-to-the-teeth MAGA shitheads encouraged by twats like you mow you down!

Finally Laurence Fox, leader of the Reclaim Party, lost his deposit in Thursday’s Uxbridge by-election after securing a mere 714 votes.

Cheers, you weaselly streak of sun-dried cunt! When even the horrible right wing twats who infest fucking Uxbridge, the greedy, ignorant anti-ULEZ child-choking pricks that foisted fucking Boris Johnson on us, think you’re too much of a fucking arsehole to abide then you are the arsehole to end all arseholes! Fuck off back to your sordid, poxy little trollbin on Twitter, the tinfoiled insides of which are coated with your own stale wank, and take pathetic potshots at a world that’s leaving you and your knob-end sort rapidly behind!

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Your astrological week ahead, with Psychic Bob

Aries, March 21st–April 19th

Probably keep quiet about that disposable barbecue you didn’t put out properly during a picnic in Hawaii last week.

Taurus, April 20th–May 20th

In Norfolk, MILF has a comma in it.

Gemini, May 21st–June 21st

If Bibby Stockholm is meant to deter asylum seekers why does it sound like a Swedish cartoon bear? Call it The Floating Castle of Death. Which, as it turns out, it is.

Cancer, June 22nd–July 22nd

Traditionally the bride’s father gives her away. But maybe it would be more appropriate that her teenage boyfriend Steve passes her on to the next bloke.

Leo, July 23rd–August 22nd

These fast food film tie-ins are getting ridiculous. The Oppenheimer double mushroom burger is nothing special. And it makes your fingernails fall out.

Virgo, August 23rd–September 22nd

What’s so great about virgins anyway? They’re usually shit at blowjobs.

Libra, September 23rd–October 22nd

A candlelit dinner sounds romantic until you can’t read the sodding menu and end up ordering two plates of green beans for your main.

Scorpio, October 23rd–November 21nd

‘Young, black, and famous, with money hangin’ out the anus,’ sings fellow Scorpio Puff Daddy. Not really someone you want buying you an ice cream.

Sagittarius, November 22nd–December 21st

‘This is between you, me and the bedpost,’ people say. Believing a bed is listening to your conversations is dangerously delusional. Do the right thing and have them sectioned immediately.

Capricorn, December 22nd–January 19th

Guys. Feel better about being asked to go for a prostate exam by only doing it after a third date with your GP.

Aquarius, January 20th–February 18th

Young people today don’t know they’re born. In the old days you had to ring 50 people from a phone box to organise a criminal mob to rob a sports shop, and all you got away with was some Peter Shilton gloves with rubber bits that fell off.

Pisces, February 19th–March 20th

‘I’m so 3008, you’re so 2000 and late,’ goes the Black Eyed Peas song. This may sound a little harsh, but if someone invents time travel it’s not going to be fucking Fergie.