On Home Ground

So concerned are our lords and masters with reforming the more feudal aspects of the housing system that the rather feudally-named Commonhold Council has failed to meet in the past thirteen months: a schedule which corresponds to at least one Government flunkey's quasi-mediaeval idea of regularity. The council was set up two years ago in the wake of a Johnsonian pledge by the jabbering homunculus Michael Gove to abolish the leasehold system: a pledge on which the party of slums and landlords has now, mirabile dictu, decided to renege. The British leasehold system is almost unique in the world, being employed only in England, Wales and some few remaining civilised parts of Australia and the USA; and aside from this heritage value, leasehold is dear to Conservative hearts because it tends to cost young people a great deal of money. Even so, the hired anonymoids of the jabbering homunculus have assured their friends in the media that something more or less resembling reform of certain aspects of the system could well be enunciated later in the year. Team Starmer has accused the Government of abandoning its prior commitments; which is certainly something Team Starmer would know about.

Nanny Hunt

Barely a fortnight after a Conservative Party expenses claimant squealed about the British dying out, the Chancellor has paid a visit to the magic money tree for an electoral bribe to breeders. The pittance that Universal Credit claimants receive for child support is to be raised from next month, and the Government will show its trust by allowing parents to receive most of the money directly, rather than foricng them to pay for childcare and then claim back the costs of their skipped meals and unused utilities. A recruitment drive for child-minders is also in the offing, and the Department for Education is about to start a consultation on expanding the charmingly Dickension-sounding "early years workforce." Whether such culturally non-Marxist handouts will prove sufficient to restore the breeding stock of the master race remains as yet unclear.

Bad Etymology

Blastocyst, n. from blast and cyst, a tumorous growth about to explode.

Squalid, adj. from Latin Squaliformes, an order of sharks; thus a term describing conduct becoming to a family newspaper or a minister of the Crown.

We All Make Mistakes

Mere decades after the fact, it has dawned upon the Other Milibeing that the Iraq adventure was perhaps not quite the glorious crusade for Christendom that was presented at the time. Despite the purely moderate and sensible impact of the Other Milibeing's nearly-remembered tenure as Minister for Wogs, Frogs and Huns, he did have time to vote in favour of the war before toddling off to more lucrative pastures. He now sees the destruction and plundering of Iraq as a serious strategic indiscretion, since seeing it as a crude and illegal grab for resources might blaspheme the memory of the Blessed Tony, and would arguably justify reparations at the personal expense of the Other Milibeing. Now that Russia has been so impolite as to invade Ukraine, the true magnitude of the error can be observed in the reluctance of some little brown folk to emulate their natural leaders in trading arms and dispensing moral condemnation. Evidently even the great British pastime of wog-bombing may have a price not worth paying if it leads the lesser breeds astray.

Saving Cuts

In the great Churchillian tradition of protecting Poland from invaders, the greatest army in the world has been collaborating in the great and noble task of deterring people-traffickers by slicing up their victims. On orders from the Ministry for Wog-Bombing, personnel from the Royal Engineers have provided "infrastructure support" on the border between Poland and Belarus, in the form of a hundred-and-sixteen-mile Trumpster-lite razor-wire fence. As one would expect from Global Britain, electrification was an infrastructure too far; but sixteen or more invaders have been seriously injured trying to cross the barrier, suffering damage consistent with the standards of Serco, G4S or the Metropolitan Police. Of course, the swarming hordes have only themselves to blame for trying to cross the barrier, just as cultural Marxists on the mainland bear ultimate responsibility for precipitating the wage and pensions crisis by living too long and eating too much. Curiously, despite the unimpeachable Britishness of the values involved, neither the Ministry for Wog Control nor the Ministry for Wogs, Beads and Trinkets seems inclined to take the credit.

Natural Solutions

When it comes to existential threats to humanity, as we all know, a moderate and sensible approach is generally to be advised. The pragmatic and down-to-earth British managerial class is notable for its moderation in combating climate change, an existential threat to humanity; and for its sensibility in poking Russia and China with sharp sticks so as to precipitate a world war, also an existential threat to humanity. On the matter of artificial intelligence, which poses so existential a threat to humanity that the Chancellor wants to turn it into yet another world-beating British business, the position is inevitably more nuanced: given the undoubted gravity and complexity of the problem, ministers have naturally chosen to frame it in terms of immediate divergence from the ghastly Euro-wogs. The Strasbrussels bureaucrats have adopted the ludicrously inflexible approach of regulating ad hoc, and are considering a law whose application would depend on, of all things, context - and, what with the innate depravity of the foreign hordes, probably real-world context at that. By contrast, His Majesty's Government wishes to stay as nimble as any government possibly could stay whose collective natural intelligence can barely operate one of those Babbage computating contraptions without risking a haemorrhage.

Animal Instinct

With more political nous than one would normally give him credit for, Fishy Rishi has begun emulating the victorious Team Starmer formula by reneging on the promises he made to ensure his selection as party leader. Legislation to ban live exports of farm animals and prevent dog theft has been dropped in case the Opposition forgets its place and starts playing political games with it. Since Fishy Rishi's party has only an eighty-seat majority in the House of Expenses Claimants, there is a distinct danger of inadvertently imposing animal cruelty restrictions that the Huntin', Shootin' and Fishin' comstituency would find morally abhorrent. Instead, an animal sentience committee is to be established next month, which will serve as a convenient generator of long grass for the issue to be kicked into; although it remains as yet unclear whether the committee's remit will include checking for signs of awareness among the jumping rats and shrieking baboons of the Conservative Party.

Needling from a Haystack

The National Johnson's decision to continue the Trumpster routine by sacking his lawyers and squealing conspiracy has prompted calls for his ex-chancellor to cancel or postpone some taxpayer-funded unemployment benefits. About fifty sponsors, stooges and sycophants are set to reap their grace and favour from the great man's resignation rah-rah, but new allegations of illegal pandemic parties have precipitated further unrest among the seasick rodents in the turbid Tory bilges. Some (doubtless the more perspicacious) even claim to be baffled that a statesman of Fishy Rishi's courage, integrity and decisiveness still seems inclined to sit back and allow the erminisation of three Johnson groupies, thereby triggering three by-elections in which the gerrymandering might go almost as well as in the recent culling of the councils. On the other hand, it is possible that the Johnson nomenklatura may prove sufficiently ridiculous to distract media and public attention from any list subsequently extruded by La Truss.

Bad Etymology

Aspiration, n. from Latin aspirare, to breathe upon; hence a form of ambition fuelled mainly by hot air.

Minister, n. from mini- and Latin sterilis, barren or futile; hence a minor political or religious fruitlessness.

High-Priced Talent

As the incumbent clutcher of an office of state recently held by Boris Johnson, any Minister for Wogs, Beads and Trinkets has a large pair of clown-shoes to fill. Doubtless it was this feeling of the hand of history on his crotch that motivated the Minister for Misnomer to add yet another ludicrousness to a persona which a lesser statesman might have thought sufficiently risible already. Toddling about the Caribbean and Latin America to highlight "tackling the climate crisis, upholding democracy and human rights and securing free and open supply chains of critical minerals," though not necessarily in that order, Cleverly availed himself of "the crème de la crème of private business jets," a flying luxury hotel suite with a Johnson-sized bed, a big-screen TV, and a five-figure hourly charter price. Fortunately for the softness of British power, the last will be enjoyed by the taxpayer alone.

What We Do Best

Although efficiency levels in the best armed services in the world have attained such depths of Britishness that wog-bombing on a major scale has become a little inconvenient, the nation's plucky little entrepreneurs continue to do their part in keeping the world safe for war. Leaving aside the many, thoroughly decent transactions that don't go on the record, British arms dealers have commemorated the mainland's recent World Cup glories by exporting almost three thousand million's worth of weapons to the no-nonsense régime in Qatar. As one would expect from so vocal a defender of peace and democracy, more than half Britain's total exports went to violent authoritarians, including Whitehall's favourite Islamic fundamentalists at the head-chopping House of Saud. Sales figures for last year are more than double those of the year before, and exceed even the heights of helpfulness which the master race achieved at the height of the Syrian civil war. Naturally, arms sales are restricted in the event of a clear risk that civilians would be targeted, as opposed to human shields suffering collateral damage; although it is unclear whether the present administration retains the Blairite system of clearly and unequivocally labelling ordnance that is not to be used for war crimes unless absolutely necessary.

Sans Gill, Sans Guts, Sans Everything

With so many real, live dangers to women, children and animals in the world, and even in the Government, it should come as no surprise that certain stalwart citizens have chosen to attack a statue by a sex offender who has been dead for eight decades. Claims that its display outside Broadcasting House constitutes a celebration of the sculptor's crimes are surely melodramatic: admittedly, the work depicts characters from The Tempest, but even the Jew-baiting toady William Shakespeare was hardly a Clive or a Colston, though as a patriot and a Christian he would undoubtedly have approved of them both. The forces of cultural cleanliness soiled their argument still further by pushing it in the chaste pages of the Rothermere Daily Stürmer, which has been known both to thunder against the persecution of graven images and to aim the occasional kick at those least able to kick back. Even so, one can only agree that the statue's continued presence at the BBC flies in the face of the corporate ethos that was bold enough to stop using a typeface on moral grounds.

Town Down

New York City, which is as heavy as a hundred and forty million elephants but less environmentally friendly, is subsiding by an average of one or two millimetres a year, though some districts are sinking twice as fast. Thanks to the nothing or less which continues to be done about mitigating the climate emergency, this makes the city increasingly vulnerable to flooding; so appropriate measures will be necessary to ensure that only the most expendable residents are inconvenienced. One scientist advocated, of all things, planning, and also stated that, besides corroding and destabilising real estate, flooding "kills people, too, which is probably the greatest concern" - a degree of optimism which, in a supposedly evidence-driven profession, surely verges on the irresponsible.

Unprofessional Fowl

As with war, famine and death, it is characteristic of unpatriotic woke pessimism to classify pestilence as a danger rather than an opportunity; and the latest outbreak of bird flu is no exception. The cultural Marxists at the RSPB are agitating to restrict the liberty of our lords and masters to blast specially fattened birds out of the sky for fun, just because releasing them on schedule might give a few sparrows a bit of a cough. Doubtless owing to the malign Strasbrussels health-and-safety influence on British law, millions of grouse, pheasants and other game birds would be able to pose as poultry that needs to be preserved, rather than as wild birds that deserve to be shot, should they be allowed to work from home.

Bad Etymology

Plan, n. a formalised bureaucratic aspiration, from Latin planus, a plane; hence something expected to fly which will eventually fall flat.

Trust, n. a necessary attitude in the striking of bargains; related to tryst, derived from Old French triste, unhappy, thus an assignation at which sex is negotiated, bought and sold. Cf. trust fund, n., a down payment by the resentful rich on the misery of future paupers.

Another Unfortunate Accident

Much as Britain's liberation from the Strasbrussels yoke has "failed" by empowering and enriching the very people it was intended to empower and enrich, so the Windrush persecutions are necessarily a sign of incompetence at the Ministry for Wog Control. After the flunkey nominally responsible for denying the victims compensation was heckled at a meeting, even an opposition MP (who risked the patriotic wrath of Team Starmer by implying that Britishness includes state-sanctioned hostility towards black people) ended up by saying that the Ministry is "not an effective department." Thanks presumably to bumbling British decency, a plain instance of racism by a racist government headed by the obsessively racist leader of a historically racist political party is, necessarily and unquestionably, mere maladministration.

They've Got Banks

Now that independence from the beastly Euro-wogs has liberated the master race to seek the lower tariffs and lesser bureaucracy denied us under the Strasbrussels yoke, the hapless Kemi Badenoch has plodded off Switzerland for a bit of a chat about chocolate and red meat. These are, of course, two vital ingredients for the next eighteen months of electoral rabble-rousing; the necessary admixture of hot air and excrement can no doubt be manufactured domestically. Learning the lessons from her brief and embarrassing lapse into near-veracity a few days ago, Badenoch will also seek to persuade the Swiss (who are such natural trading partners for Britain that Britain is already trading with them) that the mainland is a "services superpower," presumably on the grounds that the Government pays billionaires better than health workers and dislikes manufacturing anything real.

Penitential Tokenism

Barely a week after the Duke of York's brother was crowned Defender of the Faith, the former Archbishop of York has been relieved of his remaining duties for the usual reason. For two years John Sentamu has been beavering away as an "honorary assistant bishop," doubtless vastly to the benefit of the Diocese of Newcastle; but a recent report has stated that he failed to act on allegations that an Anglican vicar repeatedly raped a teenager. After the acknowledged fashion of a follower of Christ, Sentamu did not offer to hand over his cloak as well as his coat; nor did he walk two miles with his accusers when required to walk one; nor, verily, did he content himself with the prayers and best wishes of the Diocese of Newcastle at this testing time. Instead, he proclaimed that the author of the report displayed a "fundamental misunderstanding" of the responsibilities of senior Christians towards victims of clerical abuse; which, judging by Sentamu's actual response to the case in question, amount largely to the assurance of thoughts. Meanwhile, the Church does not anticipate imposing any sanctions, given that all the homosexuality involved was merely non-consensual and illegal.

Division of the Spoils

Ten years ago Britain's glistening pink Head Boy proclaimed that returning stolen property was not the right approach for the master race. One would think that so profound a statement by so substantial a statesman would be the last word on the matter; unfortunately, there remain a few fanatical tribes who have failed to absorb the lessons of history. India's Hindu-nationalist prime minister is agitating for the return of treasures which were brought to the civilised world for safe-keeping, much as sensible and moderate British nationalism has protected the Elgin Marbles from the equal and opposite perils of the colonels' régime and Yanis Varoufakis. Similarly, since there are multiple claims on the ownership of the Koh-i-noor diamond, the master race has thought fit to retain the stone at the monarch's pleasure so as to prevent any unpleasantness. It is to be hoped that the forces of Indian chauvinism will have learned gratitude and humility by the time their nuclear deterrent becomes substantial enough to point at the mainland as well as Pakistan.

Proximity Alert

Further apologies have been forthcoming from the Metropolitan Firearms, Headbangers and Lawbreakers' Club, as it turns out that one of those arrested while the Imperial Glitterhat was being emplaced upon the Defender of the Faith was an innocent bystander as opposed to a guilty protester. Although an immigrant of sorts, she happens to be of an acceptable moral complexion; but nevertheless she was arrested, handcuffed and detained for thirteen hours on suspicion of having intentions, apparently on the grounds that she was standing near the kind of thought-criminals who think the climate emergency might merit some sort of precedence. A spokesbeing for the Met has already shunted the blame onto the provincial force to which the arresting officer belonged, though it remains as yet unclear how many enforcement custodians will now face arrest and imprisonment on suspicion of intending to share office space with their criminal colleagues.

Bad Etymology

Politics, n. from polis, a fortified city-state, and tics; hence the sum of those idiosyncrasies, twitches and grimaces shared by residents of an armed camp.

Superman, n. a Latino-Germanic mistranslation of Übermensch (above-human), perpetrated in order to warp a complex metaphysical ideal into conformity with the grotesque racial and sexual doctrines of comic-book America.

Insidious Not Indigenous

Except among the kind of trendy woke historians who deny the civilising influence of the Atlantic slave trade and the redemptive power of Hiroshima, it has always been reasonably clear that the American genocide was a Good Thing; but recent studies have extended yet further the manifest virtue of the European conquest. Far from being aboriginal to the United States or even its immediate peripheries, the so-called Native Americans now stand exposed as descendants of the Heathen Chinee, who insinuated themselves onto the continent some twenty-odd thousand years ago. A second invasion took place a few millennia later, the lessons of history being in those pagan times less rapid of assimilation than today. These findings will doubtless do much to redeem the trade of science, which has fallen into some disrepute through its various tactless and controversial assertions, such as that the world is more than six thousand years old and that the genetic stock of the master race may be tainted with that of lesser breeds.

Winged Messenger, Flat Feet

Days after his party lost a thousand council seats and the Greens gained two hundred, Fishy Rishi has defied the woke tree-hugging tofu-slurpers in characteristic style, raising up his little chopper for a quick trip to the chemist. The establishment in question was in Southampton, and the people who manage Fishy Rishi's more mundane affairs had determined that it would constitute a suitable setting for an announcement about chemists. One would not, after all, wish to mislead the plebs by giving them the impression that they will soon be able to cash their prescriptions by taking them to a press conference in London. More pressingly still, one would not wish to risk encountering the said plebs on a seventy-five-minute train journey, especially so soon after so many of them had been sufficiently deceived to vote as if the party in power for the past decade and a half were somehow responsible for the state of the country. In a further demonstration of concern for local issues, the provincial press were not invited to view the festivities, and a reporter from the Southern Daily Echo was refused entry when they proved so lacking in nuance as to try and gatecrash.

Suspicion of Conspiracy

Protesters who were forcibly policed by consent at Saturday's national toadying ceremony have received assurances that the Metropolitan Firearms and Headbangers Club does not intend to take further action against them. Naturally, certain uncharitable persons have chosen to see this as a further sign that the boot-boys in blue were more concerned with attacking the demonstration than with protecting public order; especially as the organisers claim to have been in contact with Scotland Yard for months in advance and to have received no objections. Having already had his collar felt over the National Johnson's plague parties, Fishy Rishi cautiously took a laissez-frapper view of the matter, proclaiming that police and government have nothing to do with one another and that, as befits an organisation recently found to harbour rapists, murderers and Conservative back-bench levels of corruption, racism and sexism, the Met make these decisions based on what they think is best.

The Party of Small Change

Profiteering bankers are an antisemitic stereotype; hence, in the nuanced world of mainstream politics, being nasty to profiteering bankers is antisemitic. Insidious forces of cultural-Marxist extremism are now conspiring to criticise His Majesty's Loyal Opposition for associating too closely with wealth creators, just because a senior policy manager from HSBC is giving "advice" to the shadow Minister for Profiteering, who has previously liaised on similarly intimate terms with Natwest and a lobbying company. A recent parliamentary inquiry found that HSBC, along with other fiscal paragons, is complicit in human rights abuses and likes to rob refugees of their pensions; which can hardly have hindered the corporation's endearment to the pragmatists at Team Starmer. Doubtless the malcontents are motivated entirely by the same non-acceptable racism that recently provoked an outcry when the chiselling little crook Richard Sharp was maliciously caricatured as a chiselling little crook.

In All Humility

Rah rah for the crown of the King,
His robes and his stick and his ball;
Slave-loot of his forebears, and all
That fine Ruritanian bling!

Rah rah for the Destiny Stone:
Sere seat for the Buttocks Majestic,
Symbolic of Britain's fantastic
And merited global renown!

Rah rah for the King's coronation:
The empire's supreme glitterhat
Plonked on the Bonce Royal! With that,
Bethink ye, O plebs, of your station!

Dewey Mindrot

Bad Etymology

Garbage, n. from garb, clothing, and -age, hence that with which the human species habitually covers itself.

Monarchy, n. corruption of menarche, the onset of menstruation: the embarrassing appearance at regular intervals of small but assertive quantities of waste human tissue.

Crowd Control

In John Boorman's under-rated sequel to The Exorcist, a possibly hallucinated scientist demonstrates the parable of a "good locust," whose influence on neighbouring insects can prevent harmless solitaries from gathering into voracious swarms. A more unsentimental view has been taken by contextually real scientists at the Max Planck Institute, who have discovered a pheromone which prevents locusts eating one another and are hoping to find ways of reducing its effectiveness. Locusts often use cannibalism as an incentive to community dynamism, but their swarming is a major nuisance to Homo sapiens ipsedixit, a species which long ago developed nobler reasons for slaughtering its own than mere brute survival.

Blacked Out

Is there no end to the cultural pestilence of woke extremist literalism? Not only are stuffed dolls which caricature black people taken as caricatures of black people; not only are social media posts echoing far-right rhetoric taken as evidence of far-right sympathies; even the spoken word in native English can now be used to drive the great British landlady out of business. After a recent police raid in which the aforementioned dolls were taken into preventive custody, the co-leaseholder of the Caucasian Hart pub in Essex proclaimed that "if people don't like it, they didn't have to come through my door." By golly, people have stopped coming through the door, including the people who maintain the pumps and some of the Euro-wog snowflakes who supply the beer. The pub has now closed and the owners plan to retire to Turkey, where evidently the standards of liberty upheld by the government of Recep Tayyip Erdoğan are more congenial than those in Essex.

Of All the Unforeseeable Things

Among those small businesses which have so far survived Global Britain's world-beating prosperity, a minority expect their sales to improve next quarter, while a mere ninety-two per cent report that their costs have been higher than last year's. Meanwhile, whatever green shoots of optimism penetrate the desert sands of independence may yet wither before the Bank of England's serenity in accepting the poverty of others. Certainly very few acolytes of pragmatic entrepreneurialism as a subcategory of Britishness will be prepared to accept that people who have less money also spend less, and that cutting off access to beastly foreign markets does not necessarily constitute a ticket to the sunlit uplands.

The Italians Are Dying Out

Despite the lack of an adequate state childcare system (family values), and despite being occasionally subject to summary dismissal from employment when a blessed event becomes imminent (traditional morality); despite the increasing scarcity of resources and the decreasing likelihood of a future for the generations after this one, more and more Italian women are for some reason neglecting their duty as regards the propagation of the race. As always, the prospect of less human suffering in the world is by definition a Bad Thing, and the far-right government has expressed its determination to reverse the trend, short of importing wog-wives to make up the deficit. Giorgia Meloni, who recently joined Fishy Rishi for a spot of mutual migrant-bashing, proclaimed that the solution lies with "the great unused reserve of female labour;" although, as an anti-feminist with only one offspring, it seems she also shares Fishy Rishi's disinclination to do anything so vulgar as lead by example.