WAKING with a hangover that has left me so parched my body has declared an official water shortage and a hosepipe ban, I look over my typically busy schedule.
Today I have numerous face-to-face meetings, and I am hoping they will go better than yesterday’s, which were something of a trial.
First up was the Bishop of York. ‘Good morning!’ he boomed, shaking me briskly by the hand. ‘I trust you are enjoying the current, glorious weather?’
I headbutted the fellow, and he staggered away. Minutes later, it was the turn of the producer of Songs Of Praise.
‘Morning, Archbishop!’ he trilled. ‘I hope you are enjoying this fabulous sunshine.’
I kicked him in the testicles. He whinnied in anguish and, clutching his private parts, limped away.
Finally, it was the BBC’s religious affairs correspondent. ‘Good morning to you, Archbishop!’ he said, beaming genially. ‘I do hope you have been making the most of the fabulous weather -’
‘You’ll need this,’ I said, handing him a raw steak. I then punched him in the eye.
‘WILL YOU STUPID, VACUOUS FUCKING CUNTS STOP FUCKING BLEATING INANELY ABOUT WHAT FUCKING WONDERFUL WEATHER WE’RE HAVING?’ I yelled after him as he departed in a daze. ‘IT’S NOT LOVELY WEATHER, IT’S THE FUCKING APOCALYPSE! PLUS, THE SWEAT MAKES MY BOLLOCKS ITCH LIKE FUCK!’
And so, braced for more of the same today, I take a light breakfast and peruse a periodical. Therein I read that Andy Burnham convened a ‘Cobra’ meeting about the recent extreme weather. He concluded that a vital policy was to discourage the sale of disposable barbecues to avert wildfires.
Fuck me till my arse turns purple, is that all you’ve fucking got? I mean, gee, thank goodness a UK prime minister has had the courage to stand up to Big Disposable Barbecue, but have you spent so much time in fucking air-conditioned focus groups that’s your response to empty reservoirs and global warming rapidly becoming global incineration? You’re prime minister but you’ve got the smallest small-town mentality of any leader in living memory! Seriously, the planet cannot afford twats like you to be in charge of any portion of it for any fucking length of time!
The European Athletics Championships have been taking place in Birmingham. However, attendances have been low, with many complaints about high prices for food and drink, including £3.95 for bottled water.
Shitting Christ on a cuntstick, what kind of price-gouging rip-off merchants were allowed to set fucking prices at this event? It’s not in somewhere good like Rome, so you’d at least expect affordable fucking water! Sure, Birmingham has more canals than Venice, but they’re filled with shopping trolleys, discarded high heels, condoms and bobbing sacks of unwanted fucking kittens! No overseas person is going to pay over the odds to visit that! Birmingham-appropriate prices would be 25p for a burger, 15p for a fizzy drink and you get the bottled water free for fucking going there!
It seems that fans of Harry Potter have succeeded in getting a multimillion-pound power cable linking the UK and Ireland relocated because it threatened to desecrate the grave of ‘Dobby’, an elf from the series.
Fuck me sideways, this is just about the stupidest fucking thing I have read this century! And that’s against some fucking stiff competition, much of it generated by Rowling herself! The mass disciples of the fucking wicked witch have spoken, and for some reason someone listened. In a world in which so much desperately needs to be done, here is the power of fucking morons with nothing better to do than rail against an entirely fictional situation! A bit like the fucking transphobe lobby, when you think about it! Cunts!
Finally, Nigel Farage has won the Clacton by-election, seeing off the threat of Count Binface. However, he boycotted the announcement of the result, claiming that it was a ‘plot to embarrass him’.
Hahahaha, you stupid, pompous bastard, whose fucking idea was this waste-of-time by-election? Look in the fucking mirror, if you’ve got any left that haven’t cracked under the strain of reflecting your wretched fucking self! Great work, you grifter in plain sight! Welcome back to parliament, where the investigation into your dubious-as-fuck finances resumes! As for fucking Clacton, your status as seaside fuckwit capital of the country remains intact! You’d have more fucking credibility if you’d elected a sub-Binface joker like Baron Von Thunderclap!
