Plunder

In days of old
They sank their gold
To rise in wondrous hauls;
Our wreck will be
An acid sea
Awash with plastic balls.

Coral Dunn

High Society

We have been aware for some time that the National Johnson isn't much of a details man, preferring to confine his attentions to the big picture and let his servants deal with the fiddly bits. This insouciance appears to have reaped unfortunate dividends, thanks to the great man's failure to install his favourite as head of the National Crime Agency. Lacking appropriate managerial guidance, agents of the NCA have apparently impounded a significant portion of the entertainment for the forthcoming party celebrating the holy matrimony between the National Johnson and the bearer of his most recently acknowledged offspring. With taxpayer-funded venues now out of bounds, the rah-and-regurgitate has been relocated to the humbler abode of Lord Bamford, a Party donor and chair of the Muslim disposal vehicle manufacturing firm JCB. Rather than allowing the revels to take place inside his eighteenth-century mansion, Bamford has set up a large white-powder-coloured tent in the grounds; which, given the quality of Johnson's friends and the likelihood of breakage, spillage, pilferage and digestive misadventure, seems a most foresighted precaution.

Rhodes Rescued

In a political culture where the Ministry of Defence is concerned with attack, the Ministry of Justice with undermining the courts and the Department of Health and Social Care with depriving people of health and social care, it should come as no surprise that the Department for Culture, Media and Sport should be concerned with all that is crass, petty-minded and insular. Hence the relevant secretary of state has overruled the hotbed of unpatriotic subversion that is Historic England in order to grant listed status to a commemorative plaque at the University of Oxford. The plaque honours Cecil Rhodes, a white supremacist so extreme that even his contemporaries thought he was a lunatic, who earned his retention and explanation by bunging his alma mater some small change in his will. Last year the college expressed a wish to remove the plaque and its accompanying statue but later changed its mind, prompting a boycott by a hundred and fifty academics. Historic England denied that the plaque's artistic quality made it worthy of national interest, thereby prompting the corrective intervention by a woman whose level of culture begins with reality TV and presumably ends with the National Johnson's autohagiographic ascension to the pedestal of Sir Winston Leonard de Pfeffel Churchill.

New Iron Lady Creaking at the Hinges, Report Finds

Just to rub it in, a report on the state of the Ministry for Wogs, Beads and Trinkets offers a few hints as to what the country will face should the hundred and sixty thousand gammons and blue-rinsers who constitute our present electorate choose the populist Thatcherite filly over the upstart socialist wog. While in the grip of the National Johnson's adaptable Truss, the Ministry for Wogs, Frogs and Huns has failed to complete its hostile takeover of the Ministry for Conditional Philanthropy; and, as one would expect from a diplomat of Truss' calibre, relations with other departments are "strained." Since the war in Ukraine is a priority, the Foreign Office has cut its Russian-speaking staff by thirty per cent, refuses to budget for sanctions against Russia, and has assigned three times the number of staff to preparing the forthcoming crusade against the Heathen Chinee. In the interests of departmental purity, only twenty-nine per cent of the Foreign Office's UK staff work in foreign countries: an efficiency saving from more than fifty per cent under the treasonous woke régime of the New Labour wog-bombers. Fortunately, the ministry's inadequacies are more than compensated by a culture in which complaints cannot be raised without fear of reprisals or with confidence that concerns will be addressed.

Dress Sense

While the plebs linger on picket lines and nurses luxuriate among their handouts from the food banks, spare a thought, if you will, for hard-working families such as that of Pigsticker Dave. The former prime minister's consort, the delightful Samantha, has a little sideline in the clothing trade which has just recorded losses to the value of over a thousand garden sheds. It remains as yet unclear whether the greater share of responsibilty for this deplorable decline in living standards belongs with the pandemic or with political prejudice among those leftist ideologues who might formerly have been in the market for a £300 corporate gladrag. Certainly no blame can be laid at the Conservatives' handling of the economy, since Samantha's alliance with the Prince of Puce has reaped dividends in the form of at least one seven-figure subsidy from a Party donor.

Some Things Are Worth More

After a month in which the weather has melted roads and warped railway tracks, and with the prospect of the worst drought in half a century to come, Her Majesty's Government is, as usual, offering simple solutions for the little people. England can win the climate crisis as long as the great unwashed don't take too many baths; and farmers can safely let their fields dry out by exhorting their crops and livestock to patriotic restraint. Most British of all, the water industry, while wasting three thousand million litres a day through prioritising profits over infrastructure, is providing helpful hints and handy tips on how each and every plucky little Briton can do their humble bit, via a national rah-rah called Water's Worth Saving.

Back to Basics

Meanwhile, in a refreshing and all too rare indication that some of the earthly verities remain as yet unchanged, the Anglican Communion is getting all worked up about sex. The first Lambeth conference in fourteen years has been thrown into a tizzy by motions demanding that the Church clarify its equivocal position on same-sex unions, which at present are just about permissible given an appropriate degree of shame and subservience. Apparently under the impression that there is something un-Christian about gay-baiting, and perhaps even about factionalism, the more hypocritical wing of the Church has registered righteous horror at the proposals. The bishop of Los Angeles warned that the conference might yet register support for a position that "divides, hurts, scapegoats and denies," thereby separating sheep from goats and bringing not peace, but a sword.

Forgive Us Our Debts

Since talk is cheap, the Vicar of Christ is to spend the next few days expressing regret for his Church's peccadilloes against the indigenous peoples of Canada, where more than a hundred and fifty thousand children were removed from their families, deprived of their culture, and treated to the usual disciplines associated with Christian compassion and priestly sexual continence. Although the Church agreed fifteen years ago to pay twenty-nine million Canadian dollars in compensation, it has not yet distributed the full amount because of such pressing spiritual tasks as restoring cathedrals to their gilded proto-Trumpian splendour. Between the planned rituals of public worship addressed to the God who allowed it all to happen, the Pope will doubtless do his best to edify the survivors of his Church's ministrations concerning the superiority of spiritual wealth over the merely material.

Going, Going

International agreements and concerns about the climate emergency are receiving thoroughly British levels of attention in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, which intends to auction permits for extracting fossil fuels in the world's second-largest surviving rainforest and most efficient carbon sink. Forces of anti-statue metropolitan wokeness have urged corporations not to bid at the auction, while the DRC's minister for hydrocarbons invoked the Congolese taxpayer and the right of transnational corporations to exploit his country's natural resources. Nevertheless, the ridiculous little racist Lord Goldsmith, Britain's Minister for Saving the Lesser Breeds From Themselves, has declared Her Majesty's Government "very concerned," since the auction calls into question a forest protection deal co-signed by Boris Johnson, at least insofar as any deal co-signed by Boris Johnson is not called into question by itself.

Welcome to Texas-on-Thames

As might be expected of a UK-hosted conference on freedom of religion and belief, the text of an official statement has been edited after the participants signed it. Since the lesser breeds are notoriously prone to language problems along with their moral laxity, the original's commitment to repeal laws which "allow harmful practices, or restrict women's and girls' ... sexual and reproductive health and rights, bodily autonomy" was quietly removed from the text. More than twenty countries signed the original, which was clearly far too many; the streamlined version has whittled down the signatories to an élite half-dozen, including the priest-ridden island of Malta. By a happy coincidence, the special envoy for Britain's recently-converted and famously reproductive Catholic prime minister was Fiona Bruce MP, who is co-chair of a parliamentary group dedicated to the promotion of the coathanger industry.

Black Hats

Having done so much to sabotage the national heritage by vandalising statues of race-baiters and slave traders, the forces of woke revisionism are about to embark upon a new and even cheekier phase of their cultural genocide by putting up a statue of their own. The sainted memory of Lord Nelson is to be desecrated by a sculpture of John Chilembwe, a preacher who led a 1915 rebellion in the British protectorate of Nyasaland. He was shot dead and his church burned by the best colonial troops in the world, and some forty people were strung up to demonstrate that, in the face of Prussian barbarity towards the civilisers of the Congo, the only thing wrong with British colonialism was that it might not last long enough. In the sculpture, Chilembwe is shown wearing a hat in the presence of a fellow Christian who also happens to be a member of the master race, in deliberate violation of the laws of British decency. Whether the sculpture's welfare will prove worthy of the same intense concern as in the cases of Churchill, Clive, Colston, Rustat and other wealth creators remains to be seen.

The Inheritors

Rah rah for our rich little Rishi!
With doings deliciously fishy,
Such burdens he's carried
With money he married
And principles charmingly squishy!

Rah rah for the charming Liz Truss,
Whose Cabinet past is a plus:
While plotting attacks
'Twixt Union Jacks,
She held up our Johnson for us!

Rah rah for the system so silly
That picked out this pair willy-nilly,
To give all the gammon,
Blue-rinsers and Mammon
The choice of a wog or a filly!

Pongo Brittan

Among His Early Triumphs

Worshippers in the cult of the sainted Sir Anthony of the Most Servile Confabulation of the Stocking-Top will be yet further exalted by the revelation that their icon viewed the first Gulf War in a characteristically pragmatic light. Newly declassified papers show that the great man regarded his predecessor's wog-bombing of Iraq (assisted, as ever, by Britain's special American chums) as a commercial venture for which the return would be a payday for British arms dealers. Nine years after the saving of plucky little Kuwait from ally-turned-mad-dog Saddam Hussein, Whitehall was still whining that our fellow kingdom was buying too little of the artillery that former administrations would have been blithely flogging off to Iraq. The usual campaign of smarmy salesmanship brought a poetically Atlanticist result: having weathered several abject months of Blairite diplomacy, both in writing and in the Presence itself, the Kuwaitis decided to buy their artillery from the Americans.

Enjoy the Sunshine

O fuck the hotness of this heat,
The warmth of which is no great treat
Because it is so very hot
By virtue of the heat it's got.

O fuck this heat which is too hot;
Let no one claim that it is not,
For if they do, I shall repeat:
O fuck the hotness of this heat.

Sonny Burns

Placeman Policeman

Beastly civil servants are threatening the Government's levelling-up agenda. Downing Street has denied that the National Johnson intends handing the National Crime Agency in to his chum Lord Hogan-Howe of Midland; which is no doubt sufficient indication that the National Johnson intends doing exactly that. Nevertheless, the Civil Service Commission has invoked, of all things, due process and independent scrutiny, thus demonstrating the very same unpatriotic inflexibility which has prevented the country's media regulation being held to the standards of the Rothermere Daily Stürmer. The recruitment process has already had to be re-opened because unelected bureaucrats prevented Hogan-Howe's toddling onto the shortlist: an injustice that can only be compounded by denying the National Johnson's right, set forth in Magna Carta, to treat the NCA as though it were the Cabinet or the House of Lords.

A Misapplied Solution

We are well aware by now that the answer to a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with more of the same; but this pious and pro-life principle has been sadly subverted by a leftist politician in South America, where the Boris Johnson of Brasilia is due for democratic ejection in a few months. Defending their hero after his own fragrant fashion, Jair Bolsonaro's followers have emulated Johnson's Conservatives by dumping raw sewage at random; and last weekend an opposition party treasurer was rebuked to death at his own fiftieth birthday party by a Brazil First gatecrasher. Bolsonaro has proclaimed that he does not want the aid of violent supporters, and has balanced his proclamation in admirable BBC fashion by attacking the "undeniable history of violent episodes" which has characterised the South American left from the thousands who disappeared themselves under the dictatorships to the harsh language now used against logging and cattle companies fighting to civilise the Amazon. Despite having been shot three times, the assassinated treasurer lived long enough to perpetuate this record of communist mayhem by shooting back and inflicting serious injury upon the patriot who had administered his due and proportionate punishment.

Challenge Adani

Even this many years into the glorious march towards universal financialisation, there remain some reactionary elements who cling to the outdated and heretical doctrine that museums should be educational rather than profitable. Treacherous and un-British cabals of these metropolitan maniacs have conspired to boycott the former Museum of Patents because of its deal with the greenwashing wing of a coal company, which is financing an Energy Rah Rah gallery to open next year. The museum's director agrees that climate change is the most urgent "challenge" facing humanity (it is not, you will observe, anything so uncommercial as an existential threat, especially as those being challenged are mostly indigenous at the moment), but prefers to "engage and challenge" (that verb again) the culprits by helping them to launder their image. Such sensible moderation is lost upon the fanatics of pedagogy, whose persistent and wilful bias towards mere science is shared, perhaps not altogether coincidentally, by a number of mere scientists.

Getting the Job Done

Such is the eagerness of hard-working ministers to continue doing their bit for the British people that some of them, even now, still can't be bothered. The blithering thugs eking out their time as Minister for Wog Control and Minister for Profitable Incarceration, Lord Chancellor and Deputy Lame Duck both refused to attend parliamentary committee sessions scrutinising proposals for gambling reform and the precious Rightist Bill of Britishness. Less surprisingly, an underling was dispatched to answer an urgent question on ambulance service times; while the online censorship bill has been postponed in case the National Johnson's heir decides it isn't repressive enough, and Her Majesty's Loyal Opposition complained that the Government had "simply given up on governing" a full three years after Her Majesty's Loyal Opposition gave up on opposing. While it remains as yet unclear whether the ministers in question will have their salaries docked for dodging their taxpayer-funded appointments, a spokesbeing attained unprecedented levels of frankness by proclaiming that, in avoiding parliamentary scrutiny, Her Majesty's Government "continues to work on the priorities that the prime minister has."

Poor Intelligence

Having spent decades working against leftists, environmentalists and Muslims, the democracy-defending oxymoron that is Military Intelligence took little or no interest in fascist terrorism until two years after the assassination of Jo Cox. Even now, the best armed forces in the world have no clear restrictions on what groups their personnel can join: a situation which a committee of expenses claimants and ermine-hangers has delicately described as "somewhat risky." Although the ironclad laws of fiscal responsibility dictate that problems in firefighting, schools and the NHS must be treated by cutting resources and sacking staff, moderate and sensible economic theology has also decreed that dispensations may be granted to the special people. Thus the idea of a Member of Parliament taking a cut in salary commensurate with what the plebs have had to endure is virtually on a par with the idea that Her Majesty's Loyal Opposition might disagree with the Government once in a while. Similarly, when it comes to such vital patriotic professions as wog-bombing and spying, the answer to practically every problem is more money and nicer toys. In accordance with this holy precept, the parliamentary committee has determined that MI5 will need additional funding before it can work effectively against the kind of patriot who endangers his fellow subjects without orders from the sensible moderates at the top.

Human Enough For Now

Immigrants, and even victims of trafficking, may occasionally be permitted the privilege of Britishness if they are special people. Mo Farah's revelation that he was trafficked into the country has not as yet resulted in a transportation order, but has prompted a gushing tribute from Britain's latest chancellor. Nadhim Zahawi conceded that Farah is a human being and even validated Farah's childhood traumas by comparing them with his own, thereby tacitly confirming that the hostile environment is for little folk. Of course, beyond his many famous acts of financial probity Zahawi is the sort of decent British chap who will accept a job purely for the purpose of sticking a knife into his employer; so as Farah is unlikely to win many more Olympic medals he may care to keep a suitcase packed just in case.

A Dubious Association

Given their own copious virtues, it is hardly surprising that candidates for the Conservative Party leadership are inclined to reputational parasitism at the expense of more worthy achievers. A Paralympic medallist whose image was used without permission in Penny Mordaunt's campaign video has requested that it be removed, and the convicted killer Oscar Pistorius has been saved further damage to his reputation by being similarly excised. Also removed from Mordaunt's video was interview footage of Professor Sarah Gilbert, whose work on the AstraZeneca Covid vaccine was entirely to the credit of Penny Mordaunt and the best traditions of the Conservative Party. Other candidates will no doubt display similar levels of courtesy and taste, although rumours that the nation's remaining Spitfires have sought to avoid embarrassment by disguising themselves as Focke-Wulf 190s remain as yet unconfirmed.

Rewriting History

The Cambridge Latin Course, a story-based education in Latin for schoolchildren, has been revised to incorporate the viewpoints of women, non-whites and, of all things, the enslaved majority. In previous editions, slaves were depicted through the eyes of their masters and illustrations appeared to show an all-white empire; while female students complained that the female characters were inadequately developed and insufficient in number. The new edition even has the nerve to reflect, if you please, recent scholarship in such matters as the gladiatorial games, which have been simplistically perceived as a primitive blood-sport but are now seen more in line with the martial values of Romanitas. While the editors stoically await the inevitable squeals of indignation from the culture-war tribespersons, it is to be hoped they will take due pride: there can be few nobler manifestations of the anti-Boris than a woke Latin course.

Ex-British and Un-American

Among the many benefits of British colonialism in Sierra Leone, aside from the privilege of military intervention by grace of the Reverend Blair, is a robustly Christian law on women's rights which has helped substantially towards the country's world-beating maternal death rates. Lacking moral guidance from the master race, the republic's government has fallen under the influence of militant woke secularism and is introducing a parliamentary bill which could significantly inhibit the heavenly aspirations of God's intended incubators. A previous attempt was vetoed seven years ago by a Wesleyan insurance salesman; and although the current president belongs to the criminal organisation based in Mussolini's pet city-state, he and his cabinet have unanimously agreed to support the new legislation. The Ascended Incarnation of the Reverend Blair, a Catholic convert despite centuries of violence, mendacity and greed (in fairness, the Church has behaved little better), did not immediately claim credit for the development.

Makes It All Worth While

Where decency and taste bid fair,
A day of reckoning has come:
There's nothing so redeems despair
As sale for a five-figure sum.

Samuel Grimsnipe

No Consideration

British values have suffered a setback in the Mediterranean, where a teenage refugee was caught on video blatantly rescuing an infant after their vessel was wrecked in a non-disaster that killed at least thirty swarming hordes. The delinquent is from Togo, near Rwanda, which shares its language with the beastly French and has consistently failed to recover the glories of its days as the Slave Coast. Doubtless this regrettable debasement of his native culture explains, though of course it cannot excuse, the teenager's flagrant lack of concern at the risk to British jobs.

Shocked

Beyond the call of the British Press
He lied to the gullible reader;
But duly rewarded, who then could guess
He'd lie to his party leader?

His fibs were not fancy or subtle or few:
To country and colleague he lied;
And also committees, a spouse or two
And several bits on the side.

He spent two years and a half or so
In lying as before;
And now we're shocked and he's got to go
Because he lied some more.

Manly Placer

Hungry for Improvement

Despite decades of "domestic reforms" and "generous aid and debt relief" (land-grabbing, resource-stealing and thug-grooming, in Standard English) Africa is still not fulfilling its potential as a reliable plantation for human capital, according to the International Monetary Fund's continental undermanager. Unless western corporations become more efficient at developing their Africans, the world may continue to suffer a shortage of cheap labour, thereby exacerbating global economic difficulties and forcing wealth creators to create more poverty. Thanks to current levels of generosity, three African countries are facing "acute food insecurity." This may well interfere with the capacity of Africa's human capital for sustaining business as usual, so the IMF's continental undermanager raised the question of whether development can be conveniently accelerated without too many people suffering. While the IMF may lack sufficient British decency to share the nostalgia of Her Majesty's Government for the glories of the slave trade, what quantity of suffering it would consider economically unviable remains as yet undetermined.

Cultural Detritus

British decency continues to triumph in Afghanistan, with about a hundred and eighty contractors for the British Council left to the mercies of the Taliban when the best armed forces in the world accomplished their glorious evacuation. Although Her Majesty's Government found time and resources to rescue a couple of hundred cats and dogs, the British Council tends to concern itself with education and openly admits to teaching values of diversity and openness. None of this would much endear an organisation to Her Majesty's Government even if its contractors did not also happen to be potential refugees; and the Ministry for Wog Control duly insisted that the contractors would have to apply online for permission to enter the UK. Despite the labour shortage, Britain remains too full up to take more than a couple of thousand more wogs, so the contractors' families will have to fight it out among themselves as to who gets to come along. After mere months of campaigning by a former colleague, the Ministry for Wogs, Beads and Trinkets later "appeared to suggest" that formal applications would in fact not be necessary; but Her Majesty's Government has naturally not deigned to concern itself with such crass worldly questions as how the refugees' transit to civilisation, liberty and a possible Rwandan package holiday is to be accomplished. It is to be hoped that their time with the British Council has equipped the refugees to register the subtleties of the master race's moral position.

All In It Together

We all have to make sacrifices these days, and the juvenile resource management industry has nobly assumed its share of the burden by taking a significant cut to its intellectual capacity. The former Minister for School-Trashing and Teacher-Bashing, Gavin "Stupid Boy" Williamson, has toddled into a £625-an-hour, eighty-hour-a-year sinecure with Regent Group, which interests itself in "education, real estate management and investment organisation," presumably in that order. Despite the organisation being chaired by a Muslim-baiting Conservative Party donor, any attempts by Williamson to lobby Her Majsty's Government on Regent Group's behalf may well subject him to considerable disapprobation, and possibly even a slight admonitory dampening by the affectionate gums of the relevant parliamentary watchdog.

Religious Literalism

In accordance with the convenient behavioural law which permits agreement with one's inferiors in the face of a common adversary, Her Majesty's Government has condescended to concur with those of Germany and France in asserting that Iran is testing ballistic missiles which may one day enable the ultimate atrocity, namely acting as a deterrent to the Righteous State. Such is the insane irrationality of the mad mullahs that they seem to think their role in the talks to restore the nuclear non-proliferation deal is something other than to roll over and give vent to clamorous gratitude. Not only are the fanatical fiends demanding that the World Cop by the grace of God cause the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps to be officially de-terroristicalised; they are even asking for guarantees that any deal will be kept should the Trumpster or one of his acolytes get into the White House again. One might almost say that, much like the beastly Euro-wogs when faced with limited and specific demands from the mainland, the mad mullahs appear to be treating negotiations with the master race as something actually negotiable.

Their Motives Were Pure

Fires started by Peruvian farmers to clear the land for crops have expanded into a forest fire uncomfortably close to Machu Picchu, the fifteenth-century Inca ruins likely known as Huayna Picchu before the forces of civilisation arrived to correct the natives. Appropriately enough for a site abandoned by its builders in the face of pious European genocide, the fire now covers an area half the size of Vatican City. Doubtless the farmers can consider themselves fortunate that their reasons for endangering the monument were purely economical and uncontaminated by the taint of woke ideology.