Brighter Orange

The strutting Caudillo emeritus of the Farage Falange is taking time off from the milkshake circuit in order to gain a bit of experience in transatlantic statesmanship. Just as the sainted Thatcher basked in the favour of the ga-ga Hollywood third-rater, and the Reverend Blair cosied up to the Bush chimpanzee, so the strutting Caudillo is dispensing advice to his bright orange maxi-me the Trumpster, who is being so indiscreet as to start fighting the 2024 presidential election on all the wrong fibs. Although rage and resentment over perceived past injustices have long been favourite buttons for the far right to push, it seems that even patriotic self-pity can be taken too far. The hydrophobic head-tribble whose radioactive defecations form the substance of the Trumpster's consciousness has become fixated on the 2020 election and the all-pervading conspiracy of traitors, foreigners, voting machine manufacturers and legions of Beelzebub which stole victory for the Democrats. The strutting Caudillo noted helpfully that "if you think about it" 2020 is actually in the past, and that the Trumpster campaign would be better off raising hopes for future purges. It does not as yet appear that the head-tribble was much persuaded by this call to moderate and sensible Starmerism.

Conservative Party Condottieri

With that sober and statesmanlike sense of responsibilty which we have come to expect from the régime of the National Johnson, the Minister for Wogs, Flags and Photography trilled that she would "absolutely" support amateur soldiers toddling off to do their bit in Ukraine. The proclamation prompted one or two misgivings from that wet and wimpish wing of the Conservative Party which doesn't mind depriving groomed teenagers of their citizenship but thinks encouraging unpaid mercenaries is going a bit too far. A statute passed in 1870 forbids enlistment in a foreign army for the purpose of fighting a government with which Britain is not at war; that law was not used against those who fought against Franco's coup d'état in Spain, which may seem odd given that Franco's treason was exactly the kind of medicine our more forthright commentators like to prescribe in the event of a leftist government being elected in Britain. Three-quarters of a century ago, however, to Neville Chamberlain's everlasting shame, the discrepancy between prosecuting people for fighting Franco and then ordering them to fight Hitler was evident even to a Conservative administration. Nevertheless, how many among the more gung-ho citizens of our free, fearless and principled nation will be taking advantage of the Foreign Secretary's support remains as yet unclear.

Extremely Loud About Being Incredibly Close

Given the sufferings of Ukraine at the hands of the fiend Putin and his fellow travellers in the Conservative Party, the response of Her Majesty's Government has been more or less what one would expect. Downing Street is working "incredibly closely" ("world-beatingly closely" will evidently have to wait for a more Churchillian juncture in the conflict) with Ukraine's neighbouring countries, and has already dispatched three hundred and fifty extra troops to Poland to assist anyone crossing the border in re-evaluating their travel plans. Once the Government had announced its policies, Her Majesty's Loyal Opposition uncompromisingly hastened to demand the exact same policies, viz. keeping Ukrainian refugees in countries neighbouring Ukraine, while condescending to permit a brief stay of deportation to those with family members in Britain. The former Deputy Conservatives, who were quite happy with the hostile environment as long as they had their little red boxes, took a more sarcastic line, calling for a full resettlement scheme and a five-year funding package for councils that take Ukraininan nationals. They are unlikely, after all, to be Muslim or to share excessive amounts of genetic material with the Windrush generation. Vexatiously enough, an immigration lawyer confused the issue by pointing out that the Government's own racial purity law will criminalise Ukrainian refugees, just as its policing law will criminalise the kind of anti-war protests now taking place in Russia.

Breeding Back Better

Thanks, no doubt, to the principled Catholic piety at its head, Her Majesty's Government intends curtailing women's rights from the autumn. The right to terminate pregnancies on their own will be removed in six months, when England will revert to the pre-pandemic system requiring a visit to a clinician. As one would expect from the National Johnson, whose tenure as mayor of London was nearly as famous for closing women's shelters as it was for polluting children to death, this policy will punish abuse victims and the poor, as well as providing another amusing addition to the pressure on the NHS. Even though there's a war on and a shortage of cheap native workers, the Labour administration in Wales has announced its intention to continue the present system; although it remains as yet unclear whether the party leadership will repay this treason by purging only the Welsh health ministry or the entire provincial government.

Fowl Play

Among the core values of British Conservatism are, of course, libertarianism for nice people alongside law and order for the plebs. Accordingly, while the vulgar are obliged by law to refrain from poisoning landscape and wildlife with lead, no such strictures apply to the worthy. A "voluntary ban" comprising a pretty-please or two addressed to the shooting fraternity, has thus far resulted in a marginal increase in the use of lead shot to kill pheasants, from 99.4% to 99.5%. Since the pellets are highly toxic and frequently ingested by wildfowl and their predators, a good day's sport can result in a substantial bag of local wildlife. Requests to use steel shot instead drew complaints that it is unsuitable for Great-Grandfather's venerable blunderbuss and would necessitate the purchase of new guns, thus bringing the horrors of firearm poverty into the mansions of the deserving. Those concerned with British fair play also point out that steel shot requires an excessive degree of accuracy in firing and thereby gives the game birds too much of a sporting chance.

Building Better Blacks

Now that the worst of the Covid-19 pandemic seems to be over, Britain's Ministry for Wogs, Beads and Trinkets is anxious to follow up the hundred and seventy thousand deaths among the master race with further triumphs along more traditional Imperial lines. Rebalancing (filleting, in Oldspeak) of the international aid budget is planned in order to efficientise the work of organisations such as the Global Fund, which aims to eradicate HIV, tuberculosis and malaria, even though the most serious effects of those diseases are largely confined to Conservative Party non-donors with more than a tinge of wogginess. Gravely exacerbating this subversion of British generosity, the organisation has warned of spiralling poverty, deepening inequality and growing political tensions, almost as if Her Majesty's Government might have some sort of interest in mitigating abroad the very same trends it has so successfully fostered at home.

Good Guys and Evil Empires

It is of course axiomatic that Russia has no legitimate security concerns, especially as regards the freedom of a large and hostile alliance to station missiles on its borders. We have only to recall the sane and sensible rush to nuclear holocaust with which the Kennedy administration greeted a far less threatening situation in Cuba, or to imagine the calm and restrained reaction of Her Majesty's Government should the Fenian traitors in Dublin allow Russian missiles to be stationed along the holy border with Ulster, to see what universal and civilised values the Free World is defending. All doubt as to the peril in which Law and Liberty now stand must vanish before the scare-quotes around the "peacekeeping" forces which the fiend Putin has illegally deployed in limited and specific regions of eastern Ukraine. At such moments of civilisational destiny, there are no legitimate reasons, only morally indignant rah-rah; there is no legitimate history, except those bits of the Second World War which were won by Mr Churchill and his American chums; and there are no legitimate contexts, only relativistic whataboutery.

They Don't Deserve Us

In yet another sign of moral inferiority, the beastly Euro-wogs at the unelected heart of the Nazi-Soviet cancer of Strasbrussels have been conspiring with mere experts to censor the history of Belgian entrepreneurialism. Leopold II, whose personal efficientisation of the Congo extended to several million deaths and included motivation via amputation when quotas were not met, became a wealth creator of considerable stature and was duly immortalised in bronze at the centre of Brussels. However, his edifying image may soon fall prey to the world-wide wokeness purge which has already prevented wealthy white males from saying almost anything for the past hundred years. Leopold's civilising achievements in the Congo were brought to the attention of the British Empire in a report by Roger Casement whom, as every schoolchild knows, the British Empire later strung up for high treason and sexual deviance on the basis of a comma inserted into the fourteenth-century Norman French text of the relevant legislation. Lacking such respect for history, the beastly Euro-wogs of Brussels are in peril of melting down the king into a memorial to Political Correctness, or exiling him to a "statue park" along with other bygone glories from the era of stout chaps, fine deeds and imperial innocence.

The Mounting Tension

A Mounting Tension straddled a Precipitous Brink, beyond which a Foreign Horde was engaged in hostile manoeuvrings, no less provocative for being entirely within the enemy's borders. In order to counter this threat to democracy, a Coalition of Allies was gathering on the more morally exalted side of the Precipitous Brink.

"Why do you straddle me, sir?" the Precipitous Brink inquired of the Mounting Tension. "Every day for six solid weeks you have performed the same indignity upon me, with no obvious result save to strain every nerve in the vicinity."
"Have you no vision? no sense of perspective?" the Mounting Tension reproved it. "My work is not intended for the vicinity alone; it possesses the most exalted ramifications, both for the free Press and for its wholly reliable sources in the spy trade. I straddle you, sir, for the good of civilisation."

So the Precipitous Brink continued to endure the indignity of being daily straddled and sat upon, until at last the Mounted Tension snapped so decisively that journalists five hundred miles behind the lines became afflicted with the fidgets.

Techno-Trussed

Levels of Britishness remain staunchly consistent at the Ministry for Wogs, Beads and Trinkets, where the relationship between Her Majesty's Government and the electronical Babbage calculating engines continues as happy as ever. The absorption of the Department for White Saviourism beneath the benevolent guidance of Her Imperial Trussness has had the expectable efficientising effect, with anonymous sources briefing that ministerial minions routinely miss emails and cannot view relevant files because the two departments used incompatible systems which still have not been properly integrated after nearly a year and a half. Doubtless Her Majesty's Government considers the chaos a price worth paying so long as the department remains uncontaminated by the heretical filth of expertise. A further benefit for these warlike times will be the utter confusion of the fiend Putin's sabotaging cyberbots, which will find themselves unable to calculate whether a particular error is the result of their own cunning machinations or just another efficiency saving.

Wind Trouble

There's gusting and there's bluster;
There are troubles by the cluster,
As Eunice makes her heavy-breathing row -

But with airy lords and masters
Blowing hard for all disasters,
You'd think we'd have got used to it by now.

Samuel Grimsnipe

Plaque Blues

Ghastly leftists at the hotbed of historical revisionism that is English Heritage are seeking to undermine the nation's grand tradition of blue plaques. Although these architectural annotations have thus far commemorated individuals, the so-called charity is plotting an ideological conversion to Stalinist collectivism, thereby undermining the Great Man theory of history espoused by such eminent culture warriors as Hollywood, Hitler and Boris Johnson. Plans are afoot to dedicate plaques to a few hundred fillies who went on strike over, of all things, health and safety. Perhaps even less worthy of rescue from the patriotic memory hole is the Ayah's Home in Hackney, which treacherously sheltered some Asiatic parodies of Mary Poppins. Even when commemorating an individual, English Heritage has quite deliberately chosen a doctor who was soft on the mentally ill, and who seems to have been so lacking in Britishness as to disbelieve in restraint and corporal punishment. Nevertheless, the organisation's chair cheekily acknowledged the "terrific support" of Her Majesty's Goverment; although it remains as yet unclear whether the present Secretary for Cultchah is aware that "blue plaque" is not always necessarily something that covers Tory teeth.

Bear-Faced Cheek

One of the many ways in which Russia lags behind Western civilisation is the refusal of its government to abide by a proper news cycle. Politicians and media in the free world have been squealing for weeks that Russian forces are bringing Europe to the verge of war by staying within Russian territory without explaining themselves to hostile powers. According to the resident psychic at Britain's leading liberal newspaper, the warriors for truth, justice and Boris Johnson's political skin hope to avert conflict by pre-emptively publicising the Kremlin's fiendish plans. However, an unfortunate excess of zeal from certain free and fearless factions of the truth-bearing arm has caused various screaming ejaculations of penetrative activity to be prematurely splattered across the headlines, provoking crude hilarity from Russian commentators. Even in plucky little Ukraine, certain defeatist elements have expressed annoyance at the economic fallout from the hysteria in the free market which has inexplicably followed the hysteria in the free press. Meanwhile, as eastern Europe fills up with NATO troops and Britain discreetly withdraws in case Boris Johnson gets hurt, the fiend Putin inexplicably and illicitly continues to manoeuvre Russia's military might within the sovereign territory of Russia.

Wide Open Beaks

In yet another of those charming little coincidences that seem to haunt the lives of so many charming little members, a Conservative MP who opposes the reintroduction of eagles in the wild turns out to have benefited from a £14,000 campaign contribution by a shooting estate. Eagles are anathema to nice people because they kill for vulgar and unrefined reasons such as nourishment. Also, their predatory presence tends to make game birds skittish, and the only thing more unfair to the English aristocrat than a moving target is a target that can shoot back. Thanks to this sporting attitude, white-tailed eagles have been extinct in our animal-loving isles for over a century, and the member for West Dorset would be more than happy to keep it that way. The member for West Dorset is a stout British yeoman, a son of toil and soil, and a believer in real police who focus on real crimes rather than merely on things that are forbidden by law, such as the killing of rare species. Naturally, in the face of these overriding moral imperratives, few crass materialistic considerations were further from the forefront of the member's mind than some long-ago bung from a sanguinary squillionaire.

Artistic Taste

Robust British humour at a London gallery has drawn censure from the po-faced unelected. The Courtauld Gallery is celebrating the famous foreigner Van Gogh with souvenier soap at £5 a bar for "the tortured artist who enjoys fluffy bubbles" and a "box of wise emergency advice" for scarcely three times more. Harking back to the artist's notorous self-harm incident, the Courtauld is also selling ear-shaped erasers, thereby prompting complaints of shallowness, nastiness and insensitivity to the Rothermere Stürmer on Sunday, which certainly ought to know. The editor of the art magazine The Jackdaw wondered if the gallery would be selling pencils in the shape of Frida Kahlo's artificial leg; which of course is hardly getting into the spirit of things. Kahlo's disability was the result of a bus crash that seriously injured her pelvis and spine, and the perils of public transport are hardly a joking matter even when the victim happens to be a Communist, a woman and a wog.

Vergangenheitsbewältigung Outsourced

Censoring history is, as we know, a Bad Thing and contrary to Britishness; which doubtless explains why the 1823 Demerara slave rebellion is as prominent a part of our island story as the Bard of Avon or the liberation of Auschwitz by Mr Churchill and his American chums. The rebellion was put down by Britain's brave boys, and in the aftermath seventy people were tried and sentenced. Twenty-one were executed, and ten of those had their heads chopped off and displayed on poles as an object-lesson in civilisd values. The shadow foreign secretary has now requested an official gesture of forgiveness by Her Majesty's Government towards the rebels, which of course is jolly sensible and moderate of him: before his promotion to the shadow cabinet, he would most likely have demanded that the convictions be quashed. The Minister for Wogs, Beads and Trinkets responded that, since the events took place in what is now the Republic of Guyana, the granting of pardons would be up to the Guyanese president. The principle that present-day governments are retroactively accountable is certainly an interesting one; although it remains as yet unclear when Her Majesty's Government plans to make amends for the derelictions of our Roman and Norman conquerors, or to what extent Her Majesty's Government holds the current régime in Kiev responsible for the Holodomor.

Blinded with Science

Unelected experts and mere scientists are once more conspiring to further the disruption of the greatest economy in the world. With hardly a patriotic effusion between them, biological do-gooders have demanded that Her Majesty's Government produce, of all things, the science behind its decision to lift all pandemic restrictions later this month. One epidemiologist, from the provincial university of Edinburgh, admitted that the next variant of the virus could be either more or less pathogenic than previous variants, but nevertheless saw this as an pretext for pessimism rather than a reason for rah-rah, thereby epitomising everything that is wrong with the north of England. A virologist even claimed that the variants do not evolve in alphabetical order, but conveniently omitted all mention of scientists' failure to use a less Greek alphabet. Others confined themselves to ignoring the lessons of the past two years and urging upon Her Majesty's Government the alien and bigoted policy of planning and consistency, which has been so decisively rejected by the will of the people at every conceivable level. As one would expect of a foreigner with a funny name, the special envoy for the World Health Organisation was so blinkered by ideological fanaticism that he freely admitted failing to see an upside to a gamble that might enable Her Majesty's Government to appease its own party and thereby remain in gainful office until the nation's divisions can be healed by the soothing balm of war.

Racial Myopia

In the market of national morals, aside from the pragmatic entrepreneurialism of John Bull and the insidious subtlety of the Heathen Chinee, the cynicism of the Russian Bear surely has few rivals. Despite Her Majesty's Government's long record of adroit diplomacy with the Brusso-Strasbourg Nazi-Soviet dictatorship; despite the endless history of London's square dealing with the colonies in Scotland, Ireland and Wales, to say nothing of such lesser breeds as the Chagossians; despite the restrained rhetoric, quasi-oligarchic ethics and late-Romanov intellectual flair of the National Johnson and his chums, the beastly Russians still seem to think that the presence of a large and hostile alliance on their doorstep might imply some sort of legitimate security concern. Have they learned nothing from history and Mr Churchill's recent victory?

Building Back Better

Red-tape fanatics in Cornwall have ordered the demolition of nine corporate cabins built by a seaside hotel. The hotel hosted last summer's rah-and-blah of the G7, and demonstrated a commendable zeal for entrepreneurial values by knocking up the three native bungalows without bothering to wait for planning permission. In keeping with the new, higher environmental standards permitted by our liberation from the Euro-wog yoke, the buildings ruined the landscape and demolished numerous wildlife habitats. Despite these advantages, the local council ordered their removal; and an unelected planning inspector has upheld the decision even though permission for the fait accompli was eventually sought. The demolition and restoration is likely to cost hundreds of thousands, which just goes to show how uneconomical it can be to mix Britishness with affordable accommodation.

Still Too Good For Them

The residents (inmates, in Standard English) of a redemption emporium for unfortunate women in Derbyshire have achieved record levels of self-harm, amid a no-nonsense safety régime usually seen only in warehouses for males. Most female prisoners are incarcerated for non-violent offences; but the Government intends creating many more female prisoners and a task force, so doubtless the violence will soon attain more world-beating levels. It remains as yet unclear how far the taxpayer will continue to tolerate the moral strain of their apparently limitless access to the Samaritans; nevertheless, connoisseurs of British justice will rejoice that the all-important punitive element is so far from being neglected that much of it has been outsourced to the wayward fillies themselves.

Minima Culpa

As befits a former Grand Inquisitor, the sixteenth Daddy Goodspeak emeritus has appended to his latest non-apology a three-page legal refutation of its basis. The ex-pope issued a letter in response to a report about the Church's peccadilloes in Munich while a certain Joseph Ratzinger was archbishop, and with characteristic humility asked forgiveness for the Church rather than for himself, using the Moral We to inculpate the anonymous collective rather than the specific sinner. The legal addendum, at least seventy-five per cent of whose authors believe in a morally supreme omniscient genocidal sky-daddy, disputed the report's findings on the grounds that it was insufficiently factual.

Bottom Feeders

Now that our great kingdom's independence from the beastly Euro-wogs has set free the Britishness of our environmental policy, it is of course only natural and predictable that the Government agency charged with protecting the marine environment should have brought a court case against an organisation concerned with protecting the marine environment, over measures which the latter took in order to protect the marine environment. As might be expected, the Government's licensing laws in coastal conservation areas are sufficiently British to permit extensive destruction of the sea-bed with consequent entrepreneurial adaptation of a significant carbon sink into a significant carbon release mechanism. Greenpeace dropped boulders into the sea in one such area, thereby hindering the practice of bottom-fishing without harming anything else; the Marine Management Organisation prosecuted and then, in keeping with the way things are done nowadays, decided not to offer any evidence. As a result, the case has now been contumeliously dismissed by an enemy of the people who evidently thinks the taxpayers' money would be better spaffed away on some less worthy cause.

Liberty's Authentic Ophidiol Liniment

We've sold you plenty stuff that idn workin,
And blamed it on them niggers that was shirkin,
Unworthy of the grace
The Lord gave to our race -
But snake oil - that is unamurcan!

We've told you where the Red disease was lurkin,
And diagnosed the Yeller Peril smirkin.
We sold the Injuns heap
Pox-ridden blankets cheap -
But snake oil - that is unamurcan!

We freed the rich from taxes that was irkin,
And sold you on our bullshit by the firkin,
We threw in God on high,
And Momma's apple pie -
But snake oil jest aint fuggin Murcan!

Washington Rattler

Southend Stabilised

While friendly towards fellow MPs, and evidently towards journalists also, the late David Amess MP was a Brexiter and a Roman Catholic: a member of the stupidest, most corrupt and most destructive faction of his perennially stupid, corrupt and destructive party, and a member of a church so ruthless, mendacious and avaricious that it numbers Tony Blair and Boris Johnson among its converts. Amess was a tireless campaigner for animal rights and a tireless opponent of women's rights and gay rights; he campaigned against fuel poverty and in favour of medical care for his constituents while happily voting through the legislation with which his bosses assaulted those on low incomes and vandalised the NHS. As befits a follower of Christ, he was in favour of capital punishment, though presumably not of the excessively populist variety by which he himself was assassinated. He was, with all due respect, eminently replaceable; and his replacement has duly vowed to continue his great work.

Crusading Journalists

Such is the fearless freedom of our cantankerous Fourth Estate that the reporting of Her Majesty's Government's antics is being left to the New York Times. In the course of exacerbating an anti-Muslim witch-hunt in Birmingham some years ago, the jabbering homunculus Michael Gove relied on an anonymous letter, which he was warned contained "serious factual inaccuracies and, in a number of areas, contradictions." Even if the jabbering homunculus were not a former Murdoch leader writer and long-serving Conservative minister, this pedantic concern with mere facts would doubtless have sounded suspiciously like the judgement of experts. Gove was apparently further radicalised by Tumbledown Tessie, then the coalition's Minister for Wog Control, who accused him of insufficient environmental hostility and betraying the values of Winston Churchill, Enoch Powell and David Irving. On the free and fearless side, Britain's leading liberal newspaper has condescended to summarise the matter at second-hand, though without inflammatory use of terms such as institutional racism or Conservative Islamophobia crisis, which might provoke unwarranted accusations of bias or lack of nuance.

Megafraud and Metafraud

Unelected bureaucrats and pettifogging pedants have once more attempted to deflate the rampant rah-rah of Her Majesty's Government with mere fact-based pessimism. The UK Statistics Authority came yet another step closer to privatisation with the announcement of a reprimand to the National Johnson and the Minister for Wog Control, who have been boasting that crime in England and Wales fell by fourteen per cent between June 2019 and September 2021. Surprisingly enough, this figure was not merely plucked from thin air or a fat arse, but was reached by the relatively sophisticated means of ignoring the two fastest-growing varieties of misdemeanour. As the pandemic has made physical theft more difficult, fraud and computer misuse have expanded; and when they are taken into account, crime in fact increased by fourteen per cent in 2019-2021, although the UK Statistics Authority tactfully refrained from specifying how much of that expansion took place outside Her Majesty's Government.

Post Hoc Ergo Proper Cop

Shockingly enough, an officer of the Metropolitan Police has been promoted from constable to sergeant after being found guilty of misconduct. The move prompted Britain's leading liberal newspaper to avail itself of the interesting term despite. In its Applied Journalese sense, the word means something rather more nuanced and sophisticated than its vulgar usage implies; as in Manifetso pledge broken despite being made by British politician, or Russia annoyed despite being repeatedly poked with a sharp stick, or even Cressida Dick promoted despite shooting death of immigrant. Despite the exalted tradition of free speech and robust humour among British bobbies, the mayor of London was apparently not amused, and may have distinguished himself as the first politician from either wing of the British Neoliberal Party to react to an abuse of police power with anything more severe than a smile and a wave.

Oil Barons

Given that it's only a few weeks since Her Majesty's Government lectured the lesser breeds on their environmental responsibilities, few will be surprised that Her Majesty's Government has just approved the exploitation of a new oilfield in the North Sea. The lucky company is Israeli, so presumably it would have been antisemitic to refuse them; and nor do the moral advantages of the transaction cease with this sensible moderation. Of the thirteen people who comprise the board of directors and senior management of the Oil and Gas Authority, eight are former members of the fossil fuel industry and three have large chunks of shares in oil companies; which benign coincidence certainly puts beyond doubt the continuing relevance of that memorable clause in Magna Charter specifying that the Barons should never be tried except by a special jury of other Barons who would understand.