All Glorious Together
In times of economic instability and Nazi-style Euro-wog conspiracies against the value of the pound in your pocket, it is naturally reassuring to see that war, at least, can always be cheapened further. A new memorial has been unveiled in London by the Queen Gawblesser, commemorating everyone and anyone whose job description obliged them to take part in those comparatively recent episodes of wog-bombing and petroleum-pinching which have done so much to secure peace in our time and stabilise the Middle East. Not only members of the armed forces, and certainly not only those who were killed, but all who were involved and of the requisite degree of Britishness, from the humblest caterer to the biggest profiteer, are shovelled in together: the rah-rah equivalent of a mass grave, although it is debatable whether this achieves the dignity a few bulldozers and some quicklime can provide. In a particularly sensitive move, all the culprits were present - from the drivelling post-Thatcher interregnum to the Ascended Incarnation of the Reverend Blair to the late Head Boy to the Trumpster's self-appointed sycophant and her blustering blimp in charge of wog-bombing - but nobody showed much interest in telling or inviting the families of people who were killed. Perhaps it was felt that their negative attitudes might spoil the fun. Still, the dead-eyed warden of HM Prison UK did give Parliament her word that nobody from the "bereaved community" (widows and orphans, in Oldspeak) who turned up had actually been removed by G4S peace-keeping staff; so clearly all the sacrifices have not been in vain.