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Transcript of White House press conference on the national need for a ballroom bribe fund

With White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt, who will wed whoever wins the White House Ultimate Fighting Championship

THIS is a national emergency. We are on Defcon Alert Code Red and we need to press the button now, and the button is marked Unlimited Ballroom Funding. 

The President needs this ballroom. America needs this ballroom. Without this ballroom, the forces of darkness will take the earth. Iran will win, Venezuela will win, Cuba will win and Ukraine will win. But Congress, who nobody elected, has stopped it.

Under Trump, the greatest construction manager the world has ever known – this isn’t me saying this, it’s Imhotep who built the pyramids – the ballroom will be finished for the semiquincentennial in a month’s time. He built Trump Tower single-handed, after all.

But if he is betrayed then the vision the nation voted for, of our heroic he-man stripped to the bronzed waist atop the ballroom, firing dollars from his anti-weaponization fund to deserving patriots while fireworks explode around him, will never come to pass.

A tragedy for America and for the reanimated ghoul of George Washington. Okay, questions. Loser CNN?

CNN: Didn’t the president say the ballroom would be funded by private donations?

LEAVITT: Yes. Private donations from the public to the IRS via their taxes, allocated by Congress to this ballroom. All above board. But since we can’t get that we’ll have to secretly sell nukes to Argentina. CBS?

CBS: Who would have benefited from the $1.8 billion anti-weaponization fund?

LEAVITT: Anyone the lying fake news media has written a negative story about from 2016 onwards. Or who was convicted of a crime while being a Trump voter. Or is Kim Jong Un. Okay, done. Empty your wallets into the donation bowl. That’s not a request.

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I discovered masturbation aged 32: The wholesome bodice-ripping yarns of a tradwife

By Emma Buckley-Hough, who believes flashing an ankle is as cheating

CHOOSING to live by the shackles of olden values doesn’t mean I’m a prude. At times I have not simply lain still and thought of England when making love, but of forbidden Eire as well. 

But I draw the line when it comes to any form of autonomy. I should no sooner leave the kitchen alone than I would open a current account, so taking sexual satisfaction into my lady’s fingers is out of the question.

At least, until last week. My husband and I celebrated ten years of my joyful slavery in marriage, and he reminded me how proud he is I have never been corrupted by the slatternly witchcraft called a ‘climax’.

This isn’t a reflection of my husband/owner’s prowess as a lover. He’s always very attentive when it comes to satisfying his own needs and finishes with commendable swiftness.

I know he has never been swayed by the fearful modern myth of the female orgasm. We know such cannot exist because it was not detailed in the Old Testament, but upon scratching an itch in my groin with vigour I discovered it appears to have some basis.

Not only that, I commanded it. The power was intoxicating. I was soon losing entire days to the pursuit. My domestic duties, from sitting quietly at table looking pretty to swooning over flowers, were conducted with this other deed on my mind.

I’ve taken care of myself in the stable. I’ve taken care of myself in the washroom, pantry and public restroom. You name a place and I’ve rubbed myself to completion there, except for in bed with my husband. That monstrosity could cause him to wilt for good.

It’s so morally wrong which I suspect lends it allure. I feel like Sylvia Pankhurst when I lie with my hands furiously working away in an affront to masculine agency.

Am I the first woman to achieve this? We know Eve used a serpent. Surely if my sisters knew we could bring ourselves off endlessly then that’s all we’d ever do? For we do not have the self-discipline of men to forswear it.

To that end, I have ended my congress with myself. My life will be one of silent abstinence from here on. My only climax will come from riding my bicycle too enthusiastically. Thankfully our road is cobbled.

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