Gale Gets the Wind Up

Only slightly more than a decade after the hostile environment was introduced, and following a mere several years of loud complaints from the Government's far-right string-pullers and its moderate and sensible opposition that the migrant swarms have it too soft, a Conservative expenses claimant has registered concern about conditions at a wog disposal centre in his own constituency. It would, huffed Sir Roger Gale, be "wholly unacceptable" for ministers to allow a breach of the customary humane conditions in order to deter the swarming hordes; especially if the only noticeable result is more wogs in the back-yards of people who voted Sir Roger Gale onto the Westminster gravy train. With that meteoric rapidity of uptake so characteristic of the modern Conservative Party, Gale even went so far as to ponder whether the hostile environment, a flagship policy since as recently as 2012, might not in fact have been deliberately imposed.

Peace Envoy

Consternation has bloomed upon consternation with the emergence of rumours that the National Haystack is planning, as far as anyone in the modern Conservative Party can be said to plan anything, on attending the climate summit in Egypt. Not only is the Government all of a tizzy over the possibility of incurring a moral rebuke from so voluble a source, but nobody seems to know whether, or in what capacity, the great man will in fact toddle along. With his famous capacity for detail and forward thinking, no doubt the National Johnson is similarly uninformed; but in this situation there are surely even better grounds for Conservative unity than shared ignorance, dread and denial. Given that both Fishy Rishi and King Charles the Pentulant have better things to do - the former is preoccupied with party management and poor-kicking, the latter apparently with retaining his position as the only person in the country to have obeyed Liz Truss for longer than seven weeks - it would seem that a sensible compromise might lie in sending someone who combines the worst traits of both.

No Hostility Without Britishness

Hard as it may be to imagine, even a hostile environment can be taken too far, and a man is to face trial for the unauthorised disposal of thirty-nine illegal immigrants three years ago. Rather than being dispatched to a healthy and productive life in sunny Rwanda, the unfortunate Vietnamese nationals (they were not, you will observe, persons) were packed into a lorry trailer and failed to survive their journey from Europe to the mainland. The accused has been charged with thirty-nine counts of manslaughter, exacerbated beyond measure by the accompanying charge of assisting immigration without the sanctifying consent of the Ministry for Wog Control. If the latter seems a little excessive given that the job-stealing swarm was more or less unemployable on arrival, it should be remembered that the accused is himself a beastly foreign: a citizen of the Nazi-Soviet Strasbrussels dictatorship, and therefore by definition an advocate of free movement with all the ghastly horrors that free movement entails. Even should he be found guilty, therefore, a job at the Home Office may well be permanently out of reach.

Clean as Ever

One of the many constants over the few dozen Conservative administrations since 2015 has been their attitude to green crap, and the appointment of the ludicrous Thérèse Coffey as environment secretary has resoundingly continued the trend. Coffey, whose most memorable intervention as minister for NHS privatisation was to recommend that patients start up a free market in antibiotics, has crashed in with style at the only department the Conservatives take less seriously than public health. Virtually her first announcement was that the Government once again intends breaking its own law, by not publishing targets for clean water and biodiversity by the end of this month. Even though Coffey was thick-headed enough to boast about her own part in drawing up those very same targets, this might from a certain point of view be considered progress. The National Johnson and his chums would no more have hesitated to rah-rah their world-beating ambitions than they would have failed to forget them by the next news cycle. By contrast, the position today is sufficiently awkward that both Fishy Rishi and King Charles the Pentulant have bravely resolved, in the interests of the national dignity, to spare themselves the sniggering of the lesser breeds at the forthcoming climate summit in Egypt.

Shqip the Queue

Albania was ruled for many years by an authoritarian, isolationist régime which did not believe in human rights; which may go some way to explaining the attraction many of its citizens evidently feel towards the United Kingdom. The number of Albanians arriving across the Channel has increased massively during the past two years of self-declared functional government; and this despite the fact that Albania has been declared a "safe country" by no less an authority than Robert Jenrick, Minister for Wog Control and Richard Desmond, not necessarily in that order. Jenrick and his chums are considering proposals in order to grip the situation, which certainly sounds like a course of action to which Desmond could give his approval. The proposals in question are for a "bespoke route" for Albanians to have their cases heard promptly when they arrive upon the mainland, so that they can be kicked out all the faster. Of course every silver lining has a cloud, and Jenrick did not conceal the possibilty that the master race might be forced to work with Albania, and even with France, in order to facilitate its situational grippage. It is to be hoped that Boris Johnson and other Latinists will resist the temptation to sabotage the Government's benignant border-positivity by informing fellow back-benchers that Albanians are white.

Cleverly Admonishes the Gays

It seems some foreign values can be tolerated after all, provided they are themselves intolerant enough. Britain's Minister for Misnomer, James Cleverly, has politely requested gay football fans to rein in their evil passions and show respect for the violent homophobia of their World Cup host, which has itself compromised in allowing them to attend the tournament at all. No doubt Cleverly recalled the shining moral example of Winston Churchill's great contemporary, who was magnanimous enough to allow the black athlete Jesse Owens to compete at Munich in 1936 despite his own sincerely held beliefs about the lesser breeds. Even so, when calling out Cleverly's moral Anglicanism the shadow secretary for blah-and-circuses was uncouth enough to mention Qatar's record on workers and human rights: an indiscretion which may well earn her a serious talking-to from her sensible and moderate leader, who wishes nothing more than to gain the respect of people who don't care about workers or human rights.

Vandalising Statutes

In a ghastly foreign parody of the civilising libertarianism of Jacob Rees-Mogg, a minister in the upstart nation of India has demanded censorship of the statute books to remove all reference to the British Raj; although it is heartening to note that the law against sedition is apparently in no danger. Nevertheless, if other manifestations of Britishness are removed from Indian law, people may no longer feel compelled to donate shillings found on the street to their hard-working district collector; and an uncivilised tribe called the Sonthals, who have hitherto been exempted from the law of the land, may be forced to give up their quasi-Cabinet immunity. The evisceration of all that is pith-headed in the subcontinent's culture could even mean the demise of citizens' legal responsibility to make loud noises in order to frighten locusts: an admittedly primitive but unquestionably benign local variant of the British news media.

The Striver

Rah rah! Let us not be downhearted,
For now that La Truss has departed
Our new, oldish broom
Will have ample room
To finish the mess that he started!

Promoted and upped in a stitch
With barely a gaffe or a glitch,
His wogness won't count
A massive amount
Because he's so frightfully rich!

Rah rah for our Dear Leader new,
And hope for minorities too:
Inherit a million
And marry a billion -
The next wog in charge might be you!

Sunny Knacker

You Can't Get the Henchliners These Days

Even the hired thugs are giving up. The Government's airline of last resort for the Rwanda transportation scheme, the charmingly-named Privilege Style, has decided not to participate, even though Rwanda has been proclaimed a safe and secure country by the Ministry for Wog Control, which until recently was part of a government that was functioning so well that ministers described it as "functioning." Privilege Style was subjected to email campaigns and unfavourable publicity of the kind which will no doubt soon be deemed illegal harassment by the defenders of democracy at Westminster. It remains as yet unclear whether the airline's corporate conscience will henceforth be able to stand flying ex-Home Secretaries, should any of Britain's increasingly bountiful crop wish to spend more time with their overseas investments.

Security, Prosperity, Respect

British values remain strong among the head-chopping House of Saud, whose no-nonsense measures against woke liberal interference in the management of the state is an example to law-and-order buffs everywhere. A man with dual Saudi and American nationality was arrested last November when he visited the kingdom for a business and personal trip; and he was duly sentenced to sixteen years' residence at the Crown Prince's pleasure for making subversive comments on social media. Over the space of a mere seven years, he published no less than fourteen comments, includihg some that made disparaging reference to the régime's tough yet moderate resolution of the Jamal Khashoggi case. His detention of eleven months without trial. and subsequent sentencing to sixteen years in prison followed by sixteen years of house arrest, on charges of harbouring a terrorist ideology and attempting to destabilise the kingdom, constitute the sort of attitude adjustment incentive that might possibly go at least some way towards satisfying the patriots in Westminster that the master race is not in immediate peril; especially if, as the man's son claims, the Royal Family of our exalted ally is using poverty as a means of stimulating the denunciation market.

Back to the Seventies

Italians have taken umbrage at the Economist for caricaturing Britain as an outdated stereotype of Italy. The latest edition features our latest ex-prime minister as a centurion equipped with a pizza shield and a forkful of spaghetti in place of a standard. In fact, the Economist stereotype merely builds upon Truss's own literary magnum opus, in which she and some other intellectual firebuckets mentioned Italy as an awful warning against "clogged public services, low growth and low productivity." The Economist's supplementary list of Britalian vices includes "political instability," low growth again, and "subordination to the markets," none of which appears to have mollified the Italian ambassador. Oddly enough, the Mussolinian fasces, which might have appealed to an employee of the Fratelli d'Italia and would hardly be unjust to La Travatura, seem to have been omitted from the caricature.

Britannia Untrussed

Farewell, dear Liz! you were a craze
For four and forty torrid days,
Of which historians will speak
As coming too soon to a peak;
For things went rather to the dogs
Once Mrs Windsor popped her clogs,
And though it's true that now you're toast
There can't be many who can boast
The height of their career has been
The keeling over of a Queen.
(And history will spare for you
At least a footnote, maybe two.)

Huxter Clough

You're In Big School Now

Four reports by the chief inspector of racial swampage and locust control have been released after a delay of several months, apparently in order to coincide with the departure of the fascistic Suella Braverman from the Ministry for Wog Control and her replacement with the failed confidence trickster Sebastian Green. The reports criticise the Ministry for its approach to housing junior job-stealers, which incorporates the usual disdain for the dictatorial orthodoxies of planning and oversight, as well as a disinclination to stop housing unaccompanied child asylum seekers in hotels. Doubtless the Ministry would be only too happy to free up the bridal suites for native customers by sending the little woglings to Rwanda or pitching them into the sea; but it seems that not even the great British public can yet be relied upon to vote in sufficient numbers for a programme of such radical decency and fairness. In the meantime, the Ministry has unofficially ditched the requirement for infantine cockroaches to be supervised by staff who have been vetted for working with children. Not only does it mean less red tape, but the possibility of an intimate visit by a party animal in the Prince Andrew or Jimmy Savile style must certainly constitute one of the more eeconomically efficient features of the hostile environment.

They Don't Fight Fair

With typically subtle and insidious cunning, the Heathen Chinee are offering former RAF pilots large sums of money to train their own personnel. This fiendish Oriental perversion of the free market has elicited squeals of moral indignation from British officials, few of whom appear to have registered much objection to British personnnel training Islamic fundamentalist head-choppers in the service of the House of Saud. Quite aside from the sinister treachery of asking our people in when we've kicked out so many of theirs, the Heathen Chinee are hardly to be trusted with the kind of expertise Britain's brave boys brought to Afghanistan and Iraq. With such peace-keeping and state-building potential in its hands, it is horrid to think what an irresponsible government might attempt.

Cleverly Diplomatic

Britain's Minister for Misnomer has been urged to summon the Heathen Chinee ambassador after a protester was allegedly assaulted and beaten in the grounds of the Chinese consulate in Manchester. The Labour party, whose ruling Blairite faction is famously tolerant of political protest, and a few Conservatives who are senior enough to have heard of Manchester, have registered their deep concern at the possibility that those who committed the alleged assault may not have been members in good standing of the Metropolitan Police. After the recent scolding by Boris Johnson's Minister for Wogs, Beads and Trinkets over racism and treaty-breaking, the Heathen Chinee ambassador is sure to be doubly chastened at being lectured on freedom of speech by a government that wants to imprison people for a decade if they inconvenience a graven image.

Cake the Hard Way

In accordance with the national genius for hypocrisy, the concept of British independence from the ghastly Euro-wogs has always faced two ways at once. We could boost our international trade by cutting our biggest trading partner adrift; we could go global by kicking out the foreigners; we could improve our environmental standards by removing the restraints on Jacob Rees-Mogg. The Festival of Brexit, announced by Tumbledown Tessie some hundreds of years ago and now cheer-led by an executive director named Batty and an organisation called Walk the Plank, continues to showcase the sovereign flexibility of sunlit cakeism by explicitly turning Brexit into its own most potent counter-argument. The anticipated outflow of creative Britishness has been constipated by such famous Brexit benefits as labour shortages, disruption to supplies, and increased costs, prompting even some Conservatives to start worrying about the expense. On the other hand, a small number of "consultants" have somehow come through with a profit, doubtless thanks entirely to their native pluck and gumption.

Protect, Survive and Shop Normally

Although a nuclear strike by the fiend Putin is considered unlikely to the point of unlikeliness, officials are naturally engaged in prudent planning for the eventuality. Their main concern is preventing panic buying, which might inconvenience the all-worshipful markets just when the Truss threat has been dialled down a defcon or two. Apparently the measures for preventing panic include talking to journalists and getting the unlikely threat of nuclear war plastered all over the headlines; which is certainly a prudent enough measure to keep space from being wasted on anything that might actually be happening. Fortunately, even in the unlikely event of nucleaer weapons being used there is a strong likelihood of their being used in error, so the likely retaliation might very possibly be limited to millions, rather than billions, of acceptable casualties.

Return of the H-Word

We've given the bankers a fright
And put our investors to flight!
Let's flush poor old Kwasi
Down into the carsey
And bring in a chap who's more white!

Our brand is so horribly scarred,
The new guard requires a new guard!
Let's fill up our team
Of the Right that's extreme
With chaps from the Right that is hard!

A prick has been given the punt
To mollify market affront;
The Party's renewed
With callous and crude,
Complete and calamitous Hunt!

Cherry Chunter

Holding Action

Foreign institutions are conspiring to rewrite history and undermine the British way of life as incarnated in the British Petroleum Museum. The US National Museum of African Art and some beastly Euro-wogs have each agreed to repatriate Benin bronzes to Nigeria, and the Nigerian culture minister has taken this as an excuse to claim that the master race has some sort of ethical lesson to learn from these sordid transactions. The BP Museum holds a number of little souvenirs from the 1897 British peacekeeping expedition to the kingdom of Benin; and the modern state of Nigeria is apparently not content with the standard recompenses of the fossil fuel industry, whereby the benefits of petroleum extraction are returned to donor nations in the form of holiday weather and rigorous hydration. Fortunately, the museum has so far resisted calls to return the kingdom's property, in order to avoid seting an unhealthy precedent. If every item liberated from the lesser breeds could be repatriated as though it were nothing more than a sentient human being, the Crown Jewels themselves might stand in peril of being put in context - and in a Coronation year, too.

More is Less

Britain's latest secretary of state for fossil fuel profiteers looks set to rival the likes of Owen Paterson and Andrea Leadsom for sheer intellectual distinction. In the first place, he cannot add up: always a useful qualification in a minister, and especially in one whose brief is to defy the unpatriotic assertions of the treacherously evidence-based. The Right Honourable Graham Stuart, BA (Failed) informed the parliamentary environmental audit committee that fracking and drllling for fossil fuels would help to reduce the danger from fossil fuels, and threw in the term "world-leading" because that always helps. Stuart proclaimed that domestic production would stop Britain giving money to dubious régimes such as the woke Viking hordes of Norway, whose standards for gas extraction are criminally stricter than Britain's own and, at least by the vulgar literalist standards of mere reality-dwellers, are in fact world-beating. When this fact was more or less gently pointed out to Stuart by one of the committee's anti-growth traitors, Stuart responded that the fossil fuel industry in the North Sea is committed to reducing emissions in a manner far beyond the comprehension of mere experts at the International Energy Agency, the Tyndall Centre for Climate Change Research, the UCL Energy Institute or, for that matter, the parliamentary committee on environmental standards. To anyone lacking the requisite Britishness, it's all simply too sublime.

Yell of Peril

The government which tanked the economy, drove the cost of living through the roof, cut the country off from its largest trading partner, vandalised the legal system and the NHS and neglected a hundred and seventy thousand Britons to death has designated the Heathen Chinee a serious long-term threat to our way of life. The beasts of Beijing have gone around setting up educational institutes to promote the teaching among the master race of their barbaric, un-British language and culture: an activity which has inevitably offended both the Henry Jackson Society and the more opiated reaches of the Conservative Party. According to the resident psychic at Britain's leading liberal newspaper, Conservative MPs were also concerned at the authoritarian tendencies of President Xi Jinping, who exhibits neither the responsible restraint of the Trumpster and his head-tribble nor the libertarian benevolence of the head-chopping House of Saud. Still, the news that Liz Truss doesn't much care for him will doubtless have him quaking in his little red boots.

Leading Where it Counts

When your country is looking for international aid to stave off a famine, there are probably better bets than a government which allowed a hundred and seventy thousand of its own citizens to die for the pandemic profiteering of its chums, and which continues to search for new ways to starve and freeze the rest. This lesson has not been lost upon the Somali presidential envoy in charge of the response to the present drought, who noted Global Britain's withdrawal of humanitarian handouts even as it continues to help with "security." The master race may have little enthusiasm for feeding the wogs, but its enthusiasm for killing them has diminished as little as ever.

Temporarily Unpopular

In the crusading Trumpsterite spirit of making a bad situation worse, the Truss administration has been making noises about moving the British embassy in Israel to Jerusalem. Although natural enough for a third-rate colonial power in thrall to religious mania and basking in a long history of Muslim-baiting and Arab-bombing, the idea is a philozionism too far to suit the opposition parties: a spokesbeing proclaimed that even Team Starmer has, for the present, no plans to support the move openly. In the Blairite tradition of dismantling Thatcherite dogma, and the Liberal Democrat tradition of opposing war crimes until they actually take place, reversing the move once it has been accomplished would presumably be a different matter altogether.

Fantasy Island Farewell

Mere scientists are finally taking the hint and confining their unwelcome presence to the fact-based hell-hole that is the rest of the world. Limited collaboration with the reality-dwelling community was grudgingly negotiated as part of Britain's trade deal with the Strasbrussels enemy; but the beastly Euro-wogs have been dragging ther feet, on the science fiction grounds that international treaties signed by the United Kingdom somehow apply to the United Kingdom. The Government has sought to compensate by its tried and tested method of ramping up the rah-rah: the country which failed to deduce that flouncing out of a trading bloc might have some effect on trade is poised upon the precipice of becoming a "global science superpower," and if British scientists prefer the veridical inflexibility of physical and financial resources that are so unambitious as to be purely actual, then more fool them.

Burn After Reading

Conservative expenses claimants, including one former Dear Leader whose charisma and competence rivalled those of the present incumbent, are risking relegation to the anti-growth coalition by urging the creation of a nanny leaflet state. After more than a decade of hard work giving the little people their choice between heating and eating, the Government is understandably reluctant to launch a public campaign featuring, of all things, factual information. In any case, it's difficult to imagine what facts might be offered that would effectively supplement the eminently pragmatic recommendations implicit in the energy bills. Rather than simply sitting in the dark, the world's worst idlers might possibly be encouraged to jump up and down a bit more; but as regards such economising measures as avoiding excess warmth beyond a healthy incandescent rage at the fiend Putin, and keeping the children off those dangerously addictive cooked meals, it seems unclear that further progress can practicably be made.

Axis of Negotiability

Like other heretical ideologies throughout history, the horrid scourge of woke anti-growth Treasury orthodoxy has infiltrated the highest echelons of world leadership, leaving plucky little Britain to battle on alone. A policy adviser at the US Department of State gave an explicit warning against continuing the National Johnson's belligerent attitude to the Irish Question, even as the present Secretary for Wogs, Beads and Trinkets prepares to tell his Free State counterpart what's what. Compounding his sins against sovereignty, the State Department counsellor urged a "strong relationship" between Global Britain and the Euro-wog enemy, while implying that failure to maintain such a relationship might adversely affect Washington's willingness to lend the squeaking and clucking of its increasingly small and deranged client state a sympathetic ear. Meanwhile the fiend Varadkar hinted that the diplomatic colossus of Lord Frost and the National Johnson had somehow been duped into accepting an excessively rigorous régime in the Northern Ireland protocol: a clear attempt to wedge a poisoned olive branch between the Government and the sunlit uplands.

Another Day, Another Eye-Beam

A mere thirteen years after its botched attempt at a whitewash, Britain's established church has produced an internal review of abuse cases with the results we have come to expect. Despite being British and headed by a member of the royal family, the Church suffers from (or, in Standard English, inflicts suffering through) a "culture of deference, inertia, misogyny, protectionism and victim-blaming." The review uncovered almost four hundred new cases of muscular Christianity against children and vulnerable adults; and even went so far as to criticise the Church's misogyny, sexism and gay-baiting - the latter of which has, mirabile dictu, just been resoundingly re-affirmed as a central guiding principle. Naturally, the review elicited an ostentatious clamour of contrition from those representing the Deity who sat back on His throne and let it all take place; and any surviving victims who demand a more material form of compensation will doubtless be hearing a good deal about the Christian virtue of turning the other cheek.

Don't Get Hysterical, You Treasonous Mad Dogs

Few sounds are more reassuring in a time of crisis than that of the Government squealing about how serious it is. Suella Braverman, the Minister for Rabble Control, has been trying out that talent for calm and competence that manifested itself so convincingly during her stint as attorney general to Boris Johnson. Several Conservative backbenchers have been scolded by their constituents over the Government's decision to rip up the manifesto on which they were elected, and some of these MPs have made known their displeasure at the possibility of being prematurely kicked off the Westminster gravy train. Braverman responded by proclaiming the Conservative Party a one-party party, and also felt obliged, as is often the case when a government is serious, to state that the Government is serious. Most calmly and competently of all, she accused the complainers of staging a coup against the few thousand party members whose votes spontaneously outweighed the paltry millions who cast ballots against shale fracking and in favour of sunlit uplands. Of course, it is fairly common for ideologues, especially the bright ones, to become increasingly intolerant of dissent; so Braverman's statement may well be shrewder than it looks. By demonstrating that she does not know what a French loan-word means, she has shown once again that even someone of her wogness may aspire to the very highest echelons of the Global Britain party.

Sterling Stuff

By some strange accident of history, it has fallen to a foreigner with a funny name to detect another glitter in the gleaming history of British fair play. While incentivising efficient working practices, the kind of people whose graven images are worshipped by the anti-woke did not rest content with buying people for real money. The bracelets which they exchanged for marketable wogflesh were made from debased copper, doubtless in order to grow the economy by keeping the good stuff at home and letting it trickle down to the less well-off. It is grievous to report that certain backsliding Africans were so unappreciative of British values that they would hammer the bracelets to test the quality of the metal. Nevertheless, patriots will rejoice to learn that the British entrepreneurial spirit retained its roguish pluck and gumption for so much of the three centuries that were necessary to abolish the slave trade.

Your Most Loyal and Humble Servant

We are all aware, since our liege-lords never tire of telling us, that among the many squillion indispensable functions of the monarchy is its protection of British democracy. Without a royal head of state, the master race would be at unacceptable risk of falling prey to unelected extremists, as happens every day in all the world's republics. Patriots can therefore be proud that one of the first acts of the new king has been to follow the "advice" of Liz Truss and decline an invitation to address a United Nations summit on climate change. Although a few royal grouse moors remain as yet un-rewilded, his Majesty has had a good deal to say on environmental matters, and has at least twice advised previous summits of the need for a "war footing" in dealing with the climate breakdown; but it would hardly do for him to express agreement with the scientific consensus now that he has put away childish things.

Fake Homelands

Since no effective action will be taken to mitigate the consequences of climate breakdown, at least where the little people are concerned, it remains only to consider how to manage the trauma of lost land. Nations such as Tuvalu have comparatively small populations, so there is little risk that space will be lacking for the requisite internment camps; but what about the real estate? Despite the best efforts of our global corporate citizens, the happy prospect of reducing all tropical landscapes to profitable savannah remains an impractical Utopia, as a significant amount of rentable assets will unavoidably be lost to the rising seas. Fortunately, it seems that some far-sighted persons are contemplating digital substitutes, which can be copyrighted by those same global corporate citizens for the benefit of humanity as a whole.