Mentioned in Dispatches

Yesterday's terrorist attack in Nairobi may possess more human interest than was at first supposed, despite having taken place in the Rest of the World. Not only were a Briton and an American killed along with a dozen nonentities, but the scumbag press has reported that a member of the SAS was involved in the security operation after the attack. Since the prepubescent Minister for Wog-Bombing was too busy to claim that he himself was that soldier, having had rather a hectic time of it yesterday helping to prop up the ever more fragrant corpse of Terminal Tessie, his department extruded a spokesbeing to comment that there was no comment. Whether the spokesbeing's repertoire stretched to the customary "knowing smile" is regrettably not a matter of public record; but patriotic Britons will be proud of their compatriot who stayed behind and braved the Mau Mau in order to sustain the interest of our free and cantankerous press for almost two whole days in a story that is almost merely African.

Little Things Hitting Each Other

Foreigners, scientists and suchlike disreputable persons are considering the expenditure of eighteen thousand million pounds on a machine for putting some very small objects inside a very long tunnel and then ramming them together at considerable speed. The resulting energy discharges will then be analysed, hopefully to the enhancement of humanity's understanding of the universe. Since the ghastly Euro-wogs are sadly lacking in the mainland's buccaneering British scepticism about the concept of planning things before throwing large sums of money at them, the project has not yet been definitely confirmed; and in any case completion is not expected for another forty years or so, by which time those parts of British Empire 2.0 which remain above sea level will doubtless be concerned with more significant questions, such as whether Margaret Thatcher is consubstantial with the Faragean Incarnation, and whether witches are best drowned in salt water or fresh.

Gove Slurries Around

In light of the Government's record of serial law-breaking on air pollution, it's only natural that the jabbering homunculus Michael Gove should wish to distract attention away from traffic fumes by emitting a belch or two about slurry. Famously used some years ago to decorate the tangerine-faced proto-Farage Robert Kilroy-Silk, the liquid equivalent of Conservative Party policy is a major source of ammonia, so the jabbering homunculus has promised to introduce voluntary controls and to reward farmers for not being naughty, rather like the late Head Boy giving tax breaks to the virtuously married. In deference to the urgency of the situation, the jabbering homunculus has promised to wait six years before this rigorous new régime is imposed. Meanwhile, in order to minimise the risk of mere experts turning up and giving ministers a headache, emissions from intensive livestock farms are not being monitored at all.

The Father of Teeth

Text for today: Premolars xvii-xxxix

Later that day the Father of Teeth came upon the breeding pits, and saw the pregnant women whooping and squealing as their feet were stirruped and their swellings massaged, while the obstetricksters donned their ceremonial cagoules in veneration towards the breaking of the waters. The Father of Teeth wandered from breeding pit to breeding pit, and grinned down upon the women until he was requested to stop because there was enough screaming already.

"Why do they scream so loudly?" inquired the Father of Teeth.
"From mere exhilaration," the obstetricksters assured him; "they are possessed by the joy of the bundles they squeeze out."

Indeed, the joy of the bundles was nearly equal in volume to the exhilaration of the breeders. Urgently in need of quiet, the Father of Teeth made his way past the breeding pits until he came to the intricate system of pipes whereby the bundles of joy were delivered unto the world. Teams of obstetricksters, assisted by some of the stronger women, had equipped themselves with long poles and were straining and pushing at something inside the pipes.

"Why do you push so strenuously?" inquired the Father of Teeth.
"Simple overproduction," the obstetricksters explained; "there is so much joy that the pipes become blocked, so the bundles need hurrying along."

Even as he spoke, a bushel of bundles was sent screeching and tumbling into the pipe, efficiently filling up what small space the team had cleared.

"One could almost believe," observed the Father of Teeth, "that the world might be suffering an excess of joy;" for which deadly insult the obstetricksters menaced him with their poles, and the women shrieked and clawed at his eyes until he finally took the hint.

Let Us Make Ourselves Quite Clear

Yet further dividends of Britain's approaching independence from the Brusso-Strasbourgian oppressor are making themselves deliciously felt in the education industry, where Euro-wog staff have at last started taking Her Majesty's Government's politely understated hints. In the Recrudescent Imperium of Westminster, Gibraltar and the Falkland Islands there will be no need for brainy proles; providing more than the most basic education to those destined for life as hewers of water and haters of wogs would be a waste of resources better spent on tax cuts for the deserving. Even more positively, many of the efficiency savings in the juvenile resource training sector have been in the teaching of modern languages, which will have incalculable benefits when it comes to purifying the tongue spoken by Shakespeare, Ethelred the Unready and Oswald Mosley. It is to be hoped that the departing queue-jumpers have picked up sufficient buccaneering entrepreneurialism to start teaching English in their own countries, thereby facilitating the smoothness of any future negotiations with the mainland.

Shelter for the Deserving

After decades of languishing beneath the Euro-wog yoke, Britain's glorious resurgence as a global superpower has taken yet another great leap forward. Overseas territories which provide aid and comfort to tax-dodgers have been squealing about a new requirement to make public the identities of their clients, and with its usual forthright mix of pluck, gumption and decency the Ministry for Wogs, Frogs and Huns has gloriously caved in. The Government was in any case reluctant to impose the new rule, but its hand was forced by Parliament which, as we now know, does not represent the will of the people and whose treacherous taking of control must be defied at every opportunity through the stabilising strength of Tumbledown Tessie. Always a martyr to its own generosity as long as someone else is paying, the Government has given the fiscal heavens an extra three years to compile their registers, on the grounds that many Caribbean islands have suffered a degree of disorganisation because of hurricanes, and in some cases no doubt because of those national emergencies which can result from the arrival of a few dozen Windrush exiles.

Soft Touch

We are all well aware that Her Majesty's Government, and the Conservative Party in particular, has virtually no problem whatever with migrants and coloureds provided they know their place; but this paternally enlightened attitude has not always met with a commensurate degree of respectful gratitude. The Ministry for Profitable Incarceration has fallen victim to unionised troublemakers who claim that cleaners, security guards and receptionists, and outsourced ones to boot, should receive the same sick pay and holiday entitlements as real people, not to mention a living wage. There have even been threats to expose the Ministry to the wrath of the known enemies of the people in the judiciary, on the grounds that almost all the workers in question are from deportable backgrounds. Nevertheless, despite the threat of strike action it remains as yet unclear how much gammon stands ready and boiling to aid British justice by rushing up to the plate.

The Price of Purification

True to its zeal for slashing through the red tape of Eurocracy with the blade-free machete of Britishness, Her Majesty's Government has decreed that any Euro-wogs who wish to continue polluting the racial purity of the civil service will have to pay for the privilege themselves. Although the fee has been set at what hard-working ministers consider an affordable rate, it is not so affordable that Her Majesty's Government feels inclined to make a contribution; particularly as, true to form, the minions of Tumbledown Tessie neither know nor care how far the civil service has already been infiltrated. Naturally, the Stalinist malcontent who deputy-heads the civil service union drew a wholly spurious parallel with the recent war-games in Kent; and it can only be a matter of time before some other enemy of the will of the people demands that queue-jumpers be subsidised out of the imminent extra squillions which by rights belong to the Nationalist Health Service.

Democratic Decency

No scroungers we, nor are we shirkers,
But ordinary British workers.
We do not try to jump the queue,
But vote our pay-rise smoothly through.
Deport a law-abiding Brit?
We shudder at the thought of it.
We always keep our discourse civil
And never call opponents evil;
So why do plebs and police not leap
When, having sown, we start to reap?

Cookie Gammon

All in the Brain

Individuals tend to become susceptible to radicalisation and extremism when they suffer social exclusion. An international team of researchers using the most sophisticated neuro-imaging techniques have discovered what most of us found out in the school playground: that human beings are herd animals with a strong urge towards conformity and acceptance by their peers. Conveniently, the new study also proves beyond reasonable doubt that the radicalising effect of "other variables, such as poverty, religious conservatism and even psychosis" is negligible or even nonexistent, since no-one has ever suffered social isolation just because they were poor or heretical or behaved oddly. Thus western policymakers will now have yet another reason to abandon their strenuous efforts at alleviating poverty and improving mental health, in favour of more sensible and moderate measures such as all-out war on nonconformity. It remains as yet unclear what measures will be taken against wealthy parents who isolate their children in exclusive environments which encourage the belief that there is no such thing as society; but for the moment we can at least be thankful for what science can achieve provided it knows its place.