Careless Talk Costs Laughs

It seems I may owe the nation an apology. Yesterday I assumed that Fishy Rishi might feel safer with his helicoptering in the hands of the Ministry for Wog-Bombing because the Transport brief has been in the sweaty little hands of creatures like Grant Shapps; and today Fishy Rishi has appointed Grant Shapps to the Ministry for Wog-Bombing. Even some Conservatives are worried that this might be a confidence trickster too far; but in mitigation it should be noted that if the Minister for Wog-Bombing really had much to do with the country's defence and security we would most likely have been occupied by Afghanistan, or possibly Eritrea, during the tenure of the buffoonish Liam Fox. Rather than pulling triggers and pressing buttons, which in Westminster is the privilege of arms dealers and the Pentagon, Shapps' function will be to harrumph at uppity foreigns and make rah-rah noises for the kind of voter who thinks they won the Battle of Britain by accident of birth. If nothing else, the appointment is well within the great tradition of military Britishness, from Cardigan through Haig to the procurement of armoured vehicles whose major function is apparently to damage their occupants.

Economy Class

Between thirty and forty million's worth of contracts for helicoptering Fishy Rishi and his handful of remaining followers around the realm are not to be renewed. The Ministry for Wog-Bombing, which understandably handles such matters given that the Department for Transport tends to be run by people of the calibre of Grant Shapps and Mark Harper, has announced that unspecified other means and other assets will be utilised for the Rotary Wing Command Support Air Transport Service, which is the title British unpretentiousness has bestowed upon the handlers of the ministerial chopper. Whether Fishy Rishi now intends to set an example to the nation by imposing upon himself the plebeian austerities of limousines and executive jets remains to be seen.

Extended Metaphor

If anything can rival the sledgehammer subtlety of the falsehoods that led to Britain's independence from the Strasbrussels dictatorship, it is the devastating delicacy of the Nemesis that has followed. From the clown-car crassness of Davids Davis and Frost to the flatulent Z-list comedy that is the continuing story of Gammon Broadcasting News, every dimension of the affair has gone as pear-shaped as the National Johnson himself. The latest among the fallen, or at any rate the soon-to-be-demolished, is the hotel where Fishy Rishi signed the deal with the beastly Euro-wogs that finally brought the Johnson-Frost fiasco within workable distance of the present planet. The Fairmont Windsor Park has received an extension at the hands of a squillionaire Conservative donor who made a unilateral decision that the terms of the planning permission did not apply to him. In further accordance with the Brexit pattern, he has been duly smacked down by a larger and more sensible power, and now has just under six weeks to bring his little folly into compliance with the law, or else knock down the whole building and clear up the rubble. How many knighthoods he will gain by his act of patriotic heroism remains as yet unclear.

Freedom of Movement

Since the national religion prohibits such Communistic repressions of the free market as "building houses," the nation has grown ever more efficient at protecting the taxpayer from the scourge of vagrancy. Beyond the routine persecution of Roma and travellers and suchlike dirty beasts, more than thirty thousand homeless families were subject to internal deportation last year, thereby cutting them off from jobs, relatives, schoolfriends and anything else that might encourage them to persist in their vagabond ways or to imagine that the hostile environment applies only to foreigns. The figure represents a significant increase on previous years, apparently owing to a certain coyness on the part of local councils in advertising their own virtuous conduct. Even so, thirteen authorities were prepared to admit punting some homeless people more than two hundred miles at a time; while over ninety percent of the more zealous councils confirmed that the process of removing non-whites has received particularly loving attention. Connoisseurs of British decency will no doubt rejoice.

Mystery at the Museum

Historic British values are very much on display at the erstwhile Museum of British Petroleum, where the spoils of various decent British things done by jolly British chaps have apparently been recently privatised by unofficial British entrepreneurs. Even the chair of the parliamentary group on African ingratitude managed to point out the Britishness of refusing to repatriate looted artefacts on security grounds when one's own employees have spent the past couple of years relieving the self-declared repository of the world's heritage of its unregistered gains. Astoundingly enough, the filching of public assets for private profit managed to occur even under the adipose chairbeingship of a hard-right Conservative ex-chancellor. What can possibly have gone wrong?

Bad Etymology

Integration, n., from Latin inter among, and Old French grater to scrape: the social process of being ground into conformity.

Proportionate, adj. from Latin pro in favour, portāre to carry, and Greek Íōnes one of the founding tribes; hence a military response consistent with transporting an official enemy back to the Bronze Age.

Small Bugs

Although the hostile environment against unauthorised foreigns has been in force since the Conservatives and their Liberal Democrat accomplices introduced it more than a decade ago, Britain's independence from the beastly Euro-wogs has clearly endowed the policy with renewed rigour and suppleness. In diverging from the Strasbrussels imperium's decree banning the import of soil in plant-pots, the master race has imported an innovative and invigorating diversity into our island ecosystem. Inefficient indigenous bees are being stung out of their socialised quasi-Galápagos complacency thanks to the spread of Asian hornets, whose numbers have been waxing industriously since bio-security regulations became properly British. Even more fortunately, unlike certain Asian car manufacturers the hornets are unlikely to suffer any damage to their business interests, since the Battenberg Sycophancy Framework - as befits a product of British independence - explicitly denies that its bio-security specifications could apply to anything so crassly materialistic as a real-world risk.

Baby Steps

It appears that the effects of the climate catastrophe have become so unsubtle as to be noticeable even by a minority of American Republicans. In a televised debate between candidates hoping to inherit the Trumpster demographic, none raised their hand when asked whether climate change is real, although two were prepared to blame it on the Heathen Chinee and the ever-uppity country of Africa. One of the two was Nikki Haley, whose answer was declared a winner of young votes by the helpfully-named backer of a conservative youth group that thinks somebody ought to do something. As with certain supporters of the Conservative and Unionist Party on the mainland, there is shock and dismay that the leadership race in a far-right party run by profiteers and charlatans consists entirely of far-right profiteers and charlatans; which in today's political climate seems to be what passes for an encouraging sign of realism.

Improved Sustainability Through Contributional Positivity

Traitors and enemies of the people will doubtless recall the world-beating rigour of the environmental regulation which was going to arrive with Britain's independence from the beastly Euro-wogs. Besides the raw sewage in England's rivers and seas, the Britishness of the new régime is making itself smelt in the United Kingdom's largest lake, where sewage dumping, slurry farming and artificial erosion have exacerbated the effects of climate change to produce an infestation of toxic blue vegetation on a scale rarely seen beyond the membership of Conservative and Unionist Party. The Government's response, so far, has been to wag its finger at the plebs, who evidently have not been putting enough bricks in their cisterns to prove their worth as constructive citizens. Whether Team Starmer's green new deal ("Twenty-eight billion! But then again not!") will provide a comparable moral incentive remains, as yet, so unclear as to be more or less turbid.

Still Not Very Civilised

Deliberately targeting civilians during an armed conflict is, of course, a war crime except when the nice people do it, and the minister in charge of Africa is fretting lest good intentions gone awry in Darfur should affect British business interests. Since Africa is a rather primitive place, with the obvious exception of Rwanda, the minister has proclaimed that the migrant-bashing master race's case against the ethnic-cleansing coloureds will be backed by mere credible evidence, rather than the more customary and potent weapons of patriotic assertion and white world-saviour rah-rah. Alas, British efforts to pacify the region have suffered further hindrance from American foot-dragging on the issue, despite British expectations that the Allies would fall into line and make prompt preparations for a vote-winning military intervention.

Protectively Vacant

By making lots of pious noises about protecting rape and trafficking victims while doing less than nothing in the way of genuine help, Fishy Rishi's administration has delivered another blow to the legacy of Tumbledown Tessie; or, in Oldspeak, has faithfully continued where the ghastly old bag left off. Rather than take the unnecessary trouble of appointing a victims' commissioner and an anti-slavery commissioner, and then risk their ingratitude over dodging scrutiny and transporting victims of modern slavery to Rwanda, Fishy Rishi has chosen the more economical route of simply letting the posts lie vacant. With bills going through Parliament that are designed to take Whitehall's assault on the vulnerable to sublime new levels, it hardly seems prudent or grown-up to spend taxpayers' money on the wrong kind of tokenism.

Bad Etymology

Laptop, n. from French la ptomaïne food poisoning; ultimately from Greek ptôma corpse; hence an ordure-spouting irritant prone to inopportune dying.

Teeter, v.i., to wobble unsteadily; from French tête-à-tête the mutual destabilisation of two unreliable appendages.

Choose Well

Ecuador, one of whose presidential candidates has already been assassinated, can doubtless look forward to more of the same should it vote the wrong way in either Sunday's election or the simultaneous referendum on whether to stop oil drilling in an Amazon national park. Votes for erroneous candidates in Latin American elections have a long history of provoking unpleasant consequences; whether directly, as with the death-squad democracy of the 1980s, or indirectly, as with the economic warfare ("reform" in Newspeak) of the post-dictatorship era. A previous attempt to prevent drilling in the Ecuadorian rainforest was made a decade and a half ago, when President Rafael Correa offered to leave the oil in the ground in return for an internationally sponsored fund for half its estimated value. "Whether it was a gamble or a publicity stunt," proclaims Britain's leading liberal newspaper, "the bid failed to get the money;" since clearly the failure could never lie with those bastions of civilised values who did not care to pay.

Happiness is a Warm Gun

Although the climate catastrophe offers extensive business opportunities, especially and coincidentally to those trying hard not to prevent it, there are apparently one or two dangers as well. A parliamentary committee on wog-bombing has reported that the capacity of the master race to chastise the beastly Russians, control the Heathen Chinee and keep the USA on the right moral track may be considerably impaired should too many troops die of heat-stroke or the seas become too warm and plasticised to do their duty by the Royal Navy. The chances for profit are unlikely to stop at privatising water for all those new desert-dwellers, or even at resurrecting novelty prehistoric pets from beneath the permafrost-turned-tempofrost; but there are battles to be fought over the liquefying Arctic, particularly if the beastly Russians persist in claiming that those waters not busy flooding cities and drowing expendables are somehow un-American. Fortunately, the parliamentary committee on wog-bombing is no more lacking in foresight than it is deficient in strategy and, with devastating British originality, has recommended adapting to the new conditions.

Barclay Family Values

While British justice basks in the glow of righteousness that emanates from prosecuting climate activists and warehousing refugees on disease-ridden prison hulks, one of the country's more prominent tax dodgers continues to evade a custodial sentence for repeated contempt of court. Sir Frederick Barclay, sometime owner of the Maily Toryguff, whose pages have occasionally been known to take a no-nonsense line on law and order, delayed paying his ex-wife's maintenance and legal costs and is still dragging his feet over a further hundred million that he owes her. The judge complained of being "left in the position of having no alternative but to make no further order by way of punishment," although last month he denounced Barclay's four or five broken promises of settlement as a "charade." Such dismal dynastic shenanigans seem rather a far cry from the good old days when Sir Frederick and his late twin brother pillaged the islanders of Sark for defying their feudal overlordship.

No Energy Even to Lie

In what may well be the most significant moment of his hitherto unremarkable career, the Minister for Profitable Healthcare managed to produce a falsehood so blatant that even Fishy Rishi's government didn't consider it worth doubling down on. Steve Barclay, who is not the one who is Steve Baker, either didn't know or didn't care what sort of pensions consultants receive when they mend their horrid ways and stop working for the National Heath Service, and therefore defended the Government's assault on junior doctors by claiming that consultants get tax-free pensions. Doubtless it all sounded frightfully coherent at the time, but the beastly blob that is the British Medical Association challenged the assertion and even had the gall to assert that the un-Baker was "at best not across his brief, or at worst deliberately setting out to mislead the public," for all the world as if settling disputes and making working conditions liveable should be some sort of priority even in the hated NHS.

Sensible Priorities, Moderate Resources

Britain's response to the climate catastrophe remains as world-beating as ever, with pesky hindrances like experts and inflationary wage rises more or less expunged. His once-vaguely-green Majesty's Government appears to be treating the environment sector with the same degree of respect as it treats equally valued sectors such as pleb schools and the National Health Service; and as Team Starmer has already made clear with the resounding "twenty-eight billion - well actually not" policy, we may confidently look forward to a continuing climate of stability in the sector, if not in the purely incidental matter of the environment itself.

Bad Etymology

Condemn, v.t. from Latin con together and demonstro I show: to proceed with due ostentation in joining a chorus of performative disapproval.

Truculent, adj. from Middle English triewe trustworthy and Old French cul the backside; hence, after the fashion of a genuine arse.

Blood and Soil

To the extent that any investigation headed by Sir Eric Pickles can provoke more than derisive mirth, the inquiry into events on Alderney during Mr Churchill's glorious crusade seems to have stirred up a certain moral Britishness. As the past few years have demonstrated rather conclusively, the basic British objection to Fascism was never that it is extra-legal, authoritarian or murderous, let alone that it is nationalistic; the doctrine's essential beastliness lies in its being foreign, and therefore fitting only for Huns, Japs, Eyeties and Dagoes.

Equally, it seems strange to claim that the Holocaust was a uniquely depraved episode in European history, or even a particularly unusual one. Pogroms against Jews have been a defining feature of Christendom throughout its existence, and what was most shocking about the death camps - aside from the obvious truth that such things shouldn't happen to non-Communist white people - was most likely the revelation that such traditional Christian values as antisemitism, slavery and genocide had been so effectively promulgated by means of modern industry. The idea that technological advances might be matched by moral progress had already lost a good deal of plausibility thanks to the Great War, and the discovery of Belsen and Auschwitz might have cured the delusion for a generation or more, had the USA not ridden to humanity's rescue with its virtuous incineration and irradiation of some tens of thousands of Untermenschen.

In an encouraging demonstration of the persistence of British values, the current moral horror at the idea that the Nazi race war might have spread onto British land appears essentially territorial in nature. When the great British nation sent refugees packing to protect its breeding stock from the taint of Jewry, it did so in precisely the same spirit as those who now worry that British soil might once have been contaminated by actions worthy only of the lesser breeds.

Jet Set

It is in the nature of Britishness, when faced with a complicated situation, to complicate it further while wasting money and hurting people; hence the agitation by His Majesty's Government for a new international jet fighter project to involve Whitehall's favourite Islamic fundamentalists. Although BAE Systems has significant business links with the head-chopping House of Saud, these are doubtless almost entirely irrelevant to the forgiving attitude taken by the world's moral leadership (Britain, for those who came in late) towards such peccadilloes as the murder of Jamal Khashoggi and the Saudi-led rampage in Yemen. The new fighter project, involving companies from Britain, Italy and Japan, is scheduled to commence wog-bombing by 2035 or, allowing for the advantages of British involvement, by the turn of the twenty-second century.

Immodest Conversation

Fair dealing and level playing fields are once more under attack from the Trades Union Congress, which has compounded its sin of supporting striking workers over the actual public by suggesting that wealth creators should be taxed in order to fund services that only the rabble ever use. As one would expect, the idea has foreign roots, being based on Spanish solidarity as opposed to British liquidity. Norway's introduction of a wealth tax has forced many of the deserving to become migrants: a fate which no patriotic progressive would want for the likes of Fishy Rishi, the fourth Viscount Rothermere, or the strutting Caudillo emeritus of the Farage Falange. Nevertheless, an oxymoronic "modest wealth tax" has been proposed for the mainland, under the pretext of starting a national conversation about Stalinist persecution of squillionaires: a conversation which will presumably end with the His Majesty's Government and Loyal Opposition united in a grown-up chorus of "No."

Regrettable Oversight

Doubtless with only the highest motives in mind, a former environment secretary has belatedly come forward to declare her interest in a major fossil fuel corporation. Theresa Villiers, whose appointment to the Department for Huntin', Shootin', Fishin' and Greenwashing was presumably undertaken as seriously as anything else in the National Johnson's administration, did not deign to declare her Shell portfolio at the time, apparently because it did not occur to her that a £70,000 stake in petroleum profiteering might have any relevance to the post. Fortunately, nothing Villiers has ever said or done as a member of the House of Claimants has been influenced by her holdings, and of course the idea of a Conservative MP being motivated by market forces is nearly as absurd as the idea of a National Johnson appointee being either a fool or a crook.

Zac's Back

Team Starmer's heroic efforts to cleanse the Labour Party of non-acceptable racism may soon receive another well-deserved prize, as a rather large rat flirts with the possibility of a leap from the sinking Tory ship to the buoyant one. Baron Goldsmith of Richmond Park, the ridiculous little racist whose London mayoral campaign associated Sadiq Khan with terrorist bus bombings and tried to appeal to Hindus on the grounds that Khan would deprive them of their exotic jewellery, has proclaimed that Team Starmer might just possibly be worthy of his support, provided a tweak or two is bestowed upon the green crap before it is rowed back much further. Whether Goldsmith will be judged enough of a man of the people to merit the Starmer embrace remains as yet unclear, although denials from Labour anonymoids presumably indicate that the leadership is giving the matter serious consideration. Certainly, only the most contemptible Just Stop Oil antisemite would deny his lordship's qualifications as a possible Labour candidate to punish Khan's environmental derelictions in Uxbridge.

Bad Etymology

Liberal, adj. from Latin liberalis befitting a non-slave; hence a political position characterised by noble speech and little labour.

Retire, v.i. from Latin retro back and ira rage; to enter a state of looking back in annoyance.

Diplomatic Tact

A former British diplomat now working as head of public affairs at a former drug cartel has issued a standard non-apology for "any offence caused" by his implication that Global Britain might in some sense be less powerful than either the World Cop by the Grace of God or the Heathen Chinee. Although the offender's employer is Europe's largest bank, much of its profit is made in Asia, which doubtless goes far to explain both the Oriental cruelty of the original remark and the insidious cunning of its retraction. Fortuantely, the villains have been put in their moral place thanks to the British and American governments, both of which are noted for putting democratic principle before dastardly profit. According to the characteristically probing analysis of Britain's leading liberal newspaper, the Heathen Chinee have been on the receiving end of British displeasure because of their behaviour in Hong Kong, where democracy has been a major British concern since a few weeks before the colony was handed back to China in 1997. Similarly, the World Cop has become less friendly towards the Yellow Peril because of concerns over "competition for economic dominance, the future of Taiwan, and human rights abuses towards the Uyghur population of Xinjiang province," though doubtless not necessarily in that order.

Compound Britishness

Given that his main claim to fame these days is turning up to an international negotiation without any documents, it seems only natural that the former Minister for Sovereignty, David Davis, should wish to haul his distinguished gammon-hued buttocks onto whatever bandwagon happens along. Accordingly, Davis has had a sudden attack of cardio-exsanguination over the offspring of suspected terrorists from overseas who have been detained at the expense of the British taxpayer, and whose plight Davis noticed mere months after the legal charity Reprieve voiced its own concern and was brushed off by a lordly underling. Since the minors in question are British boys, and thus neither foreign nor ghastly girly Shamima Begum types, the Davis moral sense is all of a tizzy at their being treated like migrants. He has dashed off a letter to the Foreign Secretary, in which he presumably did not help his case by pointing out that lots of beastly Euro-wogs had already repatriated their own inferior stock; although he did demonstrate his statesmanlike seriousness of purpose by using the word British five times in six sentences. How far such intimidating intellectual tactics will resonate with the Minister for Wogs, Beads and Trinkets remains as yet unclear.

Culturally Appropriate

Our petrol-men's museum stands
On eastern loot the Nation owns;
Yet somehow filthy Arab hands
May soon be laid on British bones.

So as a Nation staunch and true,
Which has prehistory to burn,
We'll wait a century or two
Then humbly beg for their return.

D'Arcy Elgin

Peaceful Retirement

Residents of the stauchly Conservative constituency of Horsham will doubtless rejoice to discover that an ex-Chilean helicopter torso now serving as an amusement-park prop was once a bulwark against international Communism. During the régime of the sainted Thatcher's old chum, General Augusto Pinochet, the aircraft was used for lowering the threat of socialist subversion and damping the fires of democratic dissidence. According to Britain's leading liberal newspaper, Chile has been "slow to recognise the brutality of the Pinochet era" although it seems to have done so a little more promptly than the master race has managed in recognising the brutalities of Empire; and relatives and representatives of the nationally secured are campaigning to have the helicopter's remains returned to Chile as a monument. For his own part, the owner of the remains has expressed uncertainty about his future ability to look at them in quite the same way, having acquired them on the understanding that the helicopter was part of Pinochet's air force, with all the honour and humanity such a membership would imply.

If You Want a Gippo for a Neighbour

Nearly sixty years ago, a Conservative candidate won a by-election after the local neo-Nazis had obligingly popularised the slogan, "if you want a nigger for a neighbour, vote Liberal or Labour." The slogan was endorsed by the Conservative, who proclaimed that he would not condemn any man who used it; and patriots will rejoice that this great British tradition is far from dead, although the advent of things like Shaun Bailey and James Cleverly has resulted in a slight shift of emphasis. The Secretary of State for Wales has celebrated the international memorial day for the Roma Holocaust by distributing leaflets asking home-owners and other real people for their confidential opinions on the possibility of Gypsy, Roma and Traveller sites in their county. Several campaigning organisations have condemned the text as bordering on racism, thus sidelining the many millions of Gypsies and Travellers who have eagerly informed the Secretary of State about their own dislike of the Labour council's proposed sites. I am sure we all remember the equally typical millions among the Windrush generation who wept upon Conservative Party shoulders over their longing to return to their tribal lands and live among their own kind. In any case, as a result of his bordering on public service the Secretary of State has become the latest minister from the former party of law and order to have his collar felt by the police; while in view of the relative rarity of Gypsy Zionists, Team Starmer will doubtless be ordering the local authority to examine its conscience.

Bad Etymology

Employ, v.t. from em- into and ploy a feint or stratagem: to perform the corporate act of taking in.

Railway, n. from rail to rant, complain or criticise, and -way abbreviation of away; hence an unworthy mode of transport reviled to the point of justified extinction for its undermining of the sacred automobile.

You've Got to Laugh

Oh, what larks! What jolly old fun! Hot on the heels of the strutting Caudillo emeritus of the Farage Falange posturing as a champion of the little folk against the big bad banks, the robber barons' Bertie Wooster is having a bit of trouble with newts. Some Fink-Nottle favourites are apparently hindering planned improvements to the residence he shares with his most recent wife and a percentage of the spawn; and with the usual help from Britain's free, fearless and cantankerous Press, the National Johnson has regained his clown status, the strutting Caudillo has returned as Robin Hood, and the grown-ups are truly back in charge.