The Archbishop of Canterbury on… Trump, not the best person to be making piggy comparisons

21st November 2025

WAKING up with a hangover so physically harmful my toilet bowl melts when I urinate in it, I reflect on another momentous week in ecclesiastical affairs.

I was invited to speak on Radio 4’s Thought For The Day, a response, perhaps, on their part to accusations that they do not give atheists enough air-time.

My theme was: If God Truly Exists, For What Fucking Reason Did He Create Wes Streeting, A Charmless, Principle-Free Cunt With A Face That Looks Like Tom In The Tom And Jerry Cartoons After He’s Been Smashed In The Face With A Fucking Iron?

I requested, and was granted, a background of gentle organ music as I mused thoughtfully on this vexed theological topic, marvelling that a ‘rampant tosser, a malignant lump of ruddy ham squeezed into a fucking suit’ should be allowed to occupy high office. I was just getting into my stride when I was abruptly cut off by the presenter. ‘We’ll have to leave it there,’ he said.

‘That’s very rude,’ I retorted. Radio listeners agreed, and the BBC was duly inundated with letters of complaint about the presenter’s brusqueness.

Swaddled in feelings of moral vindication, I take a light breakfast and peruse a periodical. Therein I read that the Labour Party have mooted the idea of seizing items of jewellery from asylum seekers to pay for their processing costs.

Fuck a dead goat, it’s one thing stealing from the fucking Reform playbook, it’s another stealing from the fucking Nazi Germany playbook! Are you fucking morons so braindead it didn’t occur to you how this would come across? Are you planning on extracting their gold fillings too? Are you going to hotfoot it to pawn shops with wheelbarrows full of cheap bracelets and earrings? Are you so fucking clueless you’re happy to invite comparisons with the Nazis just to impress Tommy Robinson, which you did, by the way? Christ. Still, they’ve got a fucking great slogan you can use for benefits ‘reform’ too!

Donald Trump shut down a female reporter whose line of questioning he did not care for by admonishing her with the words ‘Quiet, piggy’.

That’s fucking rich coming from a cunt with his snout in the fucking trough of the US economy, grunting and slobbering since the day the fucking walnut-brained American public were insane enough to vote him in a fucking second time! And just to state the fucking obvious, considering he’s a fat fuck who makes a virtue of gorging on fast food and looks increasingly like a Weeble after he’s lumbered out of his golf cart, he’s not ideally positioned for fucking pig comparisons!

Allison Pearson wrote an intriguing piece in the Telegraph, in which she expounds on a fantasy about asylum seekers. In her fevered imagination ‘awful men who have committed terrible crimes since coming here illegally’ are ‘dumped’ in the Hundred Acre Wood, causing great distress to Winnie The Pooh, Eeyore and Piglet.

You know, I seriously think it’s time Pearson, The Telegraph’s editors and, judging by the fucking state of its below-the-line comments, most of its fucking readership, were rounded up and herded into giant fucking padded hangars across the country! This isn’t writing, it’s sheer fucking shitgibbonry, pulling long stools of toxicity from your fucking arse, smearing it across the pages of a daily newspaper then invoicing for a large sum of fucking money! I suppose Winnie’s put up a Reform poster at Pooh Corner, has he? You’re all fucking hatstand!

Finally, Sarah Hurwitz, a former speechwriter for Barack Obama, warned this week that Holocaust education was ‘confusing’ young people into sympathising with ‘weak, skinny Palestinians’ instead of ‘powerful Israelis’.

Roast my dead dog’s cock, is there no limit to the tortuous, pretzel logic of the fucking hardcore Zionists? I’ve never heard such an appalling pile of verbal vomit! Young people are confused for sympathising with the ‘weak’ who are being murdered, as opposed to the ‘powerful’ people carrying out the murders? And that is wrong how? Seriously, this is fucking confusing! So if you don’t think Israel can do whatever the fuck they want, eg. mass murder, Holocaust teaching has gone wrong? If you say so. And you used to write speeches for fucking Obama? Jesus H, the US presidency was fucked way before Trump rolled up – all he did was tear down the curtain of fucking respectability and wipe his arse with it!

Why I tracked and killed the seagull who nicked my chips, by Cynthia Erivo

20th November 2025

HI there my little witches! Your beloved Cynthia here. I hope you’ve all been holding some space for me!

Before your kids force you see me singing the shit out of everything at the cinema, I wanted to share an anecdote. The story of how I tracked and murdered a European Herring Gull for stealing my chips. No, NOT a seagull, people. That is not a species. There is no such thing.

It all begins on a weekend trip to Margate. I’d picked up my usual haddock and chips from Pete’s Fish Factory, slathered it in ketchup and was about to tuck in. But beneath my glistening fillet, I found what can only be described as a ‘massive f**k off chip’. The biggest I’d ever seen. Perhaps the biggest chip in history.

But out of nowhere, a gull the size of a f**king pterodactyl swooped down and grabbed my record-breaking chip before I could even take a photo of me wielding it to put on my socials.

Naturally I gave chase, but it was a crafty bastard. I clipped it with a bread roll but instead of slowing it down, it just angered it. I lost track of the beast shortly after that, and despite several calls to the local twitchers in Botany Bay Beach no one could track down its location.

Over the next eight months the gull became my obsession. The need for revenge consumed my life. Whenever a gap in my calendar opened up, I would make the pilgrimage to the Kent seafront in the hope of coming face to beak with my feathered nemesis.

I spoke to the RSPB, put out adverts in the local rag, and even camped out under the stars on the beach, my net and hammer close at hand. Trying to enlist the help of the team from Channel 4’s Hunted also proved fruitless. They all just stared at me like I’d lost my mind. Especially when I told them I’d turned down a part in the new Tarantino movie to pursue the beast.

Just when I was about to give up. I got a tip-off from Brenda at Dreamland Arcades. The bird was back. And bigger than ever.

I grabbed my net, excused myself from a Christian Dior shoot mid-take, and sprinted away. I tracked the monster to some steep cliffs which I scaled free solo style. There was my adversary, sitting in its foul nest, taunting me.

Our battle began. A fight for the ages. The bird pecked, I pecked back. It shrieked, I hit the high E6 note from Defying Gravity. Stunned at my range, the gull stopped. Allowing me just enough time to bite its throat clean out and spit it into the choppy waters below.

My foe bled out in a matter of moments. I had my revenge.

But you try telling that story in your pre-interview for The Graham Norton Show and they’ll book Ariana instead. They’re just not willing to confront the harsh reality of violent celebrity retribution against wildlife. They’ll learn when Reese Witherspoon brings on a gutted squirrel.