Oh, the Unfairness of it All

Questions (or, in Standard English, squeals of righteous indignation) are likely to emerge from Strasbrussels allies and the United Kingdom over the possibility of a unique alliance between Canada and the sovereignty-stealing Euro-wogs. Doubtless owing to the notorious French taint in their breeding stock, the Canadians may yet accept their servitude in preference to liberation by the empire of the head-tribble. Conversely, Britain's famous instinct for fair play will be roused to new heights of self-pity by the underhanded Euro-wog trick of inducing an English-speaking people to risk expulsion from the Commonwealth of Nations, despite their never having flounced out of the EU and despite their being as yet relatively unlikely to allow the shaping of their national policy by the Farage Falange.

Strange Tastes, Alien Values

State propagandists among the Heathen Chinee have very cunningly and insidiously insinuated real-world events into a TV thriller, without scrupling to put their own particular slant on the story. A series co-produced by the security ministry has had the effrontery to portray plucky little Formosa as an adversary, while gratuitously disregarding the famously objective image of the Heathen Chinee habitually promulgated by agents of public enlightenment in the West. Clearly the national mythography of that benighted culture has much catching-up to do before it can rival the historical honesty and moral sophistication of James Bond or cowboys and Indigenous.

Our Powers of Nuance Elude Them

It's all very laudable for the lesser breeds to adopt civilised values, but problems can still arise from forcing fine British wine into shoddy foreign bottles. Despite our shared Nordic heritage, Sweden's attempt at a hostile environment seems to have been taken to an undesirable extreme, causing large numbers of British residents to be treated with the kind of contempt which the mainland's Ministry for Wog Disposal habitually reserves for actual wogs. Evidently the declaration of independence from the Strasbrussels dictatorship failed to make sufficiently clear the vital distinction between British expats and foreign migrants.

Burning to Serve

One of the major contributors to the Grenfell disaster has accepted the very British penance of a new job in the public housing sector at a salary of a hundred and fifty thousand a year. As director of housing at the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea, Laura Johnson pushed for cheap renovations and delayed the installation of fire safety measures; the fact that she presumably did so in order to save her employers money was doubtless the main, if not the sole, necessary qualification for her new role. It remains as yet unclear whether the nation's free and fearless Press have any plans to hound her to the grave like a Cambridge academic; happily, such zealous pursuit of justice may prove unnecessary, given that the survivors and the bereaved are still busy luxuriating in all those thoughts and prayers.

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.