Thoughts They Cannot Defend

Now that Tin-Pot Tessie and her very special schoolboys have found the magic money tree and ordered the Euro-wogs to be a bit more creative, one might think that the Recrudescent Imperium would at last be receiving its proper ration of rah-rah; but alas, not a bit of it. The treacherous Corbynite citizens of nowhere at Moody's have downgraded the nation's credit rating from the level achieved under the Osbornomic miracle; which was itself a downgrade from the top rating that, thanks to the ever-responsible connivance of Vince Cable, turned out not to matter very much anyway. However, those were the days of the Osbornomic miracle, when the economy was going from strength to strength, whereas these are the days of Brexit when, by contrast, the economy is going from strength to strength; which clearly makes all the difference. The Treasury has reprimanded Moody's for being out of date, and it is to be hoped that other credit agencies will take note and catch up with Britain's trend-setting opinions on such matters as Free Trade, Bimetallism and the Irish Question.

Holy Water

As often happens in the wake of natural or unnatural disaster, the recent meteorological doings in God's own country have brought forth appropriate theological profundities. A congressman by name of Jeb Hensarling, representing the Christian state of Texas, has proclaimed that floods are the Deity's way of informing Americans that their personal real estate is no longer a marketable proposition. Since the Deity is, miraculously enough, a Republican in the image of Jeb Hensarling, the inevitable moral corollaries clearly follow. First, recipients of federal aid tend to be millionaire beach bums having their home extensions subsidised by hard-working families in Kansas, no matter what mere facts may have to say about the matter; and second, federal insurance programmes should therefore be privatised, presumably in order to prevent those same millionaires buying them up for their own nefarious ends. Noah managed without federal aid; should not therefore the sons of Ham do likewise?

Our Brave Boys on the Fiscal Front

It may seem beyond reasonable doubt that anyone could do the Home Office's job better than the Home Office; but the matter is a little trickier than that. "We are developing an immigration system which is fair to people who are here legally, but firm with those who break the rules," said a spokesbeing for the race-baiting Clegg-pledger who is under suspicion for illegal deportations and contempt of court. When it comes to unauthorised wogs, of course, the Conservative ideal for HM Prison UK is essentially a lynch mob consisting of sixty million unpaid G4S interns; and, as we have known for at least nine years, anything that's worth doing is best done by bankers. Hence, the next stage in the war on citizens of nowhere is obvious: having recruited landlords, police personnel and primary school teachers as border guards, the Government must welcome Britain's financial soldiers into the fray. Already, in as many as ninety per cent of frozen accounts and asset seizures the new recruits are making almost no mistakes at all; and suspects who complain of unfair treatment are simply referred to the Home Office, where their ability to keep calm and carry on will receive its most rigorous test.

No Trouble At All

Northern Ireland, it's been said, has a problem for every solution; and even in the case of Brexit, the universal panacea, it appears there may be one or two small complications in the works. Although the blithering prima donna David Davis has unilaterally undeclared the Republic of Ireland, and Tin-Pot Tessie and the DUP have abrogated the Good Friday agreements to make room for their magic money tree, there remains the small matter of dealing with an estimated hundred million or so border crossings per year once the Recrudescent Imperium has formalised its independence from the ghastly Euro-wogs and taken back control. It appears also that many in the province have divided loyalties, and persist in having relations across the border despite the undisputed advantages of Britishness. Doubtless the blithering prima donna has in mind some simple yet effective libertarian measure, such as tagging everyone in the Free State and deterring unauthorised migration with missile-launching drones and Trident. Then again, the research has after all been carried out by mere experts, some of whom are further biased by not being British themselves; so perhaps Her Majesty's Government will simply stick to its usual policy of hoping it all turns out rah-rah in the end, and blaming the ghastly Euro-wogs when it doesn't.

For Gallantry in the Face of Joysticks and Moral Qualms

Standard policy when it's all kicking off in the Cabinet is to dispatch the likes of Gove or Fallon to sneak a few headlines by saying something fatuous. Doubtless because the jabbering homunculus has gone all rah-rah for the Imperial Haystack once again, the post of honour this time has fallen to the blathering blimp at the Ministry for Wog-Bombing, who wants to grant the mental health of button-pushers parity of esteem with the physical risks taken by soldiers. Although American drone strikes in Iraq and Syria have killed at least four hundred and eighty-four civilians, the RAF heroically admits to bagging none but the guilty; nevertheless, the work can take a certain toll on the moral fibre, and the blustering blimp thinks a gong or two for the bravest would be just the thing. It is unclear how courage is to be measured in the absence of physical danger; but presumably the medals would be bestowed, in accordance with modern Conservative principles, upon anyone gallant enough to pay for them. It is certainly jolly decent of the blustering blimp to mouth such concern for the mental health of those who protect his government against the political perils of sending troops abroad and the tedious drudgery of negotiating with uppity foreigners; especially given his government's insouciant unconcern with the mental health of those lacking the entrepreneurial pluck and gumption to be killers for hire. Whether the idea will go any further than a quick snigger at the Party's post-Cenotaph belch-along remains to be seen.

Works Without Faith

Other than the Bullingdons playing at grown-ups or the Blairites faking a conscience, there can be few things less convincing than an outburst of humanitarian indignation from the dead-eyed warden of HM Prison UK. Nevertheless, it appears that Tin-Pot Tessie is suddenly much exercised by the stain of modern slavery, and her sermon on the matter has prompted a ludicrous paean from the Independent, where her sincerity is taken for granted thanks apparently to her long record of compassion for the vulnerable and her frequent homilies about unpaid work being the best route out of poverty. Like the Reverend Tony at his most unctuously disingenuous, Tin-Pot Tessie credits her mean little god as a prime motivator of her tireless quest for social justice: from her arming of the head-chopping House of Saud and her favouring of the G4S choirboys, right up to her zealous continuation of the Bullingdon Club's crusade for race-baiting, poor-bashing and cripple-kicking. As might be expected given that her government apparently sees the Grenfell Tower disaster as little more than an pretext for hustling a few more prospective deportees onto the database, the dead-eyed warden once more orders the public to look around for reasons to denounce their neighbours: a regrettable necessity given that someone or other has rather carelessly cut the police to bits; and, speaking no doubt as a non-Muslim, she urges particular vigilance towards people who "always cover their faces."

Tony's Healing Touch

Thanks to the imposition of enlightened Western values by the Reverend Blair and his chimpanzee chum, the emergent democracy of Iraq has been dealing with its terrorist problem with a degree of moral assertiveness of which even the British Home Office can only dream. At least eighty-eight people were hanged last year, and at least one sixteen-year-old is at risk of being strung up unless a way can be found to deport her back to her native Germany. Although this is obviously less civilised than the American way of dropping suspects into black holes like Guantánamo, let alone the British way of trial by tabloid followed by reformation at the hands of those well-meaning G4S people, it certainly cannot be said that nothing was achieved by the Reverend Blair's great crusade for civilisation.

Retreat from Kabul

Another enemy of the people has crawled from the wormy woodwork of British justice to interfere with the cleansing of Britain's streets and the relieving of the national constipation. As is well known, because the likes of the Farage Falange have said it so often, the UK is full up and cannot afford to support asylum seekers who come over here to take advantage of the free hospitality offered by those charming G4S people. Britain especially cannot afford asylum seekers who have the temerity to act as carers for British "citizens", thereby contributing to the present glut of social care workers and putting professionals out of a job. Accordingly, the race-baiting Clegg-pledger at the Ministry for Wog Control has been shaking the magic money tree to battle metropolitan élitists for her right under natural justice to deport an Afghan asylum seeker. The criminal had ludicrously claimed that his life would be in danger from the Taliban, who have been such fluffy bunnies recently that the Government wants to send more troops to fight them. But of course, as everyone knows, the Taliban are dangerous only to real people; where asylum seekers are concerned they magically metamorphose into the sort of decent, moderate Muslims who showed such pluck and gumption against the USSR's proto-Corbynite invasion. Nevertheless, no sooner had the asylum seeker been deposited back home than the Clegg-pledging race-baiter was ordered to uproot him from his natural habitat and return him to the heaving, straining bowels of the Recrudescent Imperium. The extent of likely damage to the white working class has yet to be properly assessed.

Much to Learn

In the wake of North Korea's latest provocation, which comprised lobbing a ballistic missile over Hokkaido and annoying some fish, the Heathen Chinee have responded with typical sinister subtlety. Although North Korea has accused the US and the South of plotting to invade, and regularly threatens to rain fire and fury upon the World Cop and its Asian allies presumably up to and including Jehovah, the Heathen Chinee are suggesting, of all things, that Washington might consider toning down the rhetoric. Given that America and its allies have only invaded North Korea once, and killed off a purely expendable fifth of the population for the benefit of some expatriate thugs and pro-Japanese quislings, this is of course outrageous. A spokeswoman for the Heathen Chinee Department for Foreign Devils has even implied that the ones who should take responsibility for sorting things out are those who messed them up in the first place; which clearly runs counter to any conceivable notion of civilised values, common decency and unperverted banking.

The Deserving Few

Celestial day of high and mighty glory
Within our patriotic island story:
The kicking of some nasty Nazi bums
By WInston Churchill and his Air Force chums,
When Britain stood alone against the foe
(Just Lend and Lease to keep her on the go),
In conflict with a dire oppressor hurled
While ruling over merely half the world.

Recall, this day, that happy time when we
From foreign-born intruders fought us free,
Letting no European empire vex
Our land with Germans, Frenchies, Poles or Czechs;
And condescend commemorative due.
Praise and remember the deserving Few.

Victor Flyte