Too Much Leg

Among the advantages of living on the global side of the Irish border is apparently the right of schools to impose Victorian dress codes on female pupils. Alas, such decencies will soon be a thing of the past, as the Northern Ireland education minister has slackened so far as to legislate for girls to have the right of transsexualising the garments on their lower extremities. The minister is a member of the Diehard Ulster Protestant party, so the backsliding has no doubt been a painful one; and his Calvary will only grow harsher with posterity's inevitable linkage of his name to flared jeans in deportment class and fluorescent rock-and-roll hotpants during prayers.

From Sorrow to Joy

O rah for the tumbled twin towers
That fell twenty-five years this day,
And brought us emergency powers
To steer things our own godly way.

O rah for the forces of terror,
Who started the terrorist war
That made decent folk see the error
In granting due process of law.

O rah for the many demises,
A bounty not all statesmen win:
Near three thousand lottery prizes
For Business and War to cash in.

O rah for all freedomised masses
Who frolic on Middle East sands,
And all petro-profit that passes
Now freely into the right hands.

O rah for that spur to the nation
From which we have all done so well:
Three cheers for our civilisation!
Rah rah for the towers that fell!

Missy Cumplish

A Helping Hand

Having expended nearly half a decade's worth of thoughts and prayers upon Tsar Vladimir's crusade, and elicited the Deity's usual resounding response, the Russian Orthodox Church has decided that more practical measures are called for. Accordingly, it has dug up the remains of a fourteenth-century warlord revered for defeating the local equivalent of the Yellow Peril, and has conveyed a portion of his anatomy to the fighting front. Some bits and pieces of Alexander Nevsky, whose earlier defeat of the Teutonic Knights rescued Holy Russia from revering biological specimens from the wrong sort of people, were apparently also deployed a few months ago, doubtless to equally salutary effect.

Please Target Your Lynchings Appropriately

Patriotic Christian values continue to make themselves felt thanks to the unofficial militia of the Farage Falange, who now stand ready to defend our shores from the depredations of both the Royal National Lifeboat Institution and junior international sport. While cadres across Dorset harass lifeboat volunteers for the crime of rescuing people without first racially profiling them, the Portsmouth Blackshirts have tried for a bit of Paki-bashing by besieging a hotel under the impression that an under-21 cricket team was a swarming horde of asylum seekers. Fortunately a subcaudillo from the political wing recognised their legitimate and understandable concerns while blaming society at large ("the climate we live in") and noting, among other mitigating circumstances, that buses can be hard to tell apart when they happen to be full of wogs.

Regrettable But Necessary

In history's tomb are not laid
Old England's traditions of trade;
And thus when we force
The wog from our shores,
There's yet some exchange to be made.

Our decency never shall fade;
We've no lust to harm or degrade.
Our resolve never limps,
And so kicking the gimps
Is merely the price to be paid.

Nunter Bargie

Weak Solution

No moderate or sensible grown-up would deny that one of the major stakeholders in any process of accountability is the entity being held to account. Without the scamster there would be no scam, and the very concept of regulation itself would thus be cast into doubt. It is therefore only moderate and sensible of His Majesty's Government to begin the process of regulating moisture provision profiteers by consulting the moisture provision profiteers themselves. Responding to accusations of a stitch-up from the usual malcontents, a spokesbeing clarified that the consultation was only about the practicalities, such as when it would be convenient for bonus claimants to grace a meeting with their presence and what sort of lead-in time would be required for an action plan to receive the necessary admixture of executive effluvium and semantic sewage. Clearly, the idea that moisture provision profiteers should have meetings or action plans imposed upon them by the very people to whom they are accountable would mean taking regulation to impermissible extremes of impracticability.

Peaceful Patriotism Properly Policed

Following the blackshirt protests at Dover, Labour party figures have been making the usual moderate and sensible noises. The Minister for Corporate Lobbyists conceded that peaceful protest is an "essential part of British life," but implied that those who dress up and disrupt the locals might be in danger of verging on the foreign. The relevant parliamentary expenses claimant, while also acknowledging the disruption, was careful to say that the blackshirts might well have been Not Racist But with legitimate and understandable concerns; and he also wondered why the police had not Done More, given the opportunities for arrests over the obstruction of public highways and the brazen flaunting of quasi-burqa face-gear in a designated protest area. In fact there were no arrests at all during the incident; presumably because the police had reasonable doubts as to how many of the protesters were supporters of Palestine Action.

They Just Aren't Like Us

With their accustomed insidious cunning, the Heathen Chinee have responded to the increased risk of oil shortages by artificially reducing their dependence on oil. Rejecting the efficient, liberal-democratic expedient of wiping the mad mullahs off the map and renaming the Strait of Hormuz, the threateners of plucky little Formosa have undermined the oil market by reducing their imports, thereby stabilising global prices for their own subtle and fiendish ends. They have also set themselves up as the world's largest exporter of wind turbines, solar panels and electric vehicles, in defiance of Western interests, market forces and all other manifestations of common decency. There is surely little vestige of British and civilised values in a régime that sneaks away from gratuitous economic damage by actively attempting to avoid any circumstances which make it more likely to occur.

Flat Earthers

Unelected cartocrats at the United Nations are seeking to subvert the very layout of the globe, as depicted since the sixteenth century via the Mercator projection. Although only a Belgian, Mercator was sufficiently objective to place Great Britain at the centre of the world and inflate the country's physical size to approximate its moral status. No such refinement of scruple afflicts the beastly Togolese, who are leading an African insurrection in favour of woke materialistic maps reflecting, of all things, mere crude physical facts. For the moment the agitation is confined to matters of scale, so there is as yet no suggestion that the Greenwich meanland should be dislodged from its central position; but one can never tell where things will end once the proper perspective has been abandoned.

Cleopatra's Proboscis

Rare and exotic indeed is the migrant swarm which can gladden the stout heart of your true British patriot; particularly when the migrants in question compound the sin of foreignness with the subversiveness of fecundity. Nevertheless, one such prodigy has appeared in the shape of Aedes aegypti, a tropical mosquito whose London population now includes several happy couples. The species is a vector for various diseases whose resurgence will undoubtedly bring back happy memories of the good old days when all that was needed to conquer the world was pluck, a dose of quinine and a pith hat. More fortunately still, the territories once conquered and civilised by those staunch Britannic innovations may soon be made uninhabitable by the very same climate calamity which has wafted the inspiring invertebrates to our shores; so we shall be spared the trouble and expense of civilising them all over again.