Pork Britannia

Astoundingly enough, despite several years' rule by the Bullingdon Club's glistening pink porkers, and despite the current prevalence in the nation's life of the Farage Falange's fatted squealers, Britain's supermarkets have somehow managed to remain full of toxic pig meat. In a fine example of culinary Britishness, customers are being protected against food poisoning by bumping up the risk of bowel cancer. The apocalyptic erosion of our national character by the decrees of the Strasbrussels health-and-safety dictatorship apparently never got around to British ham and bacon, in which carcinogenic nitrates are still at world-beating levels nearly ten years after the Hamas-run World Health Organisation vindictively declared them unsafe. Given that the CEO of Team Starmer looks, acts and speaks like something carved from a rather poor-quality but nevertheless thoroughly boiled block of solid pork, there seems little doubt that this eminently patriotic situation will be allowed to contine for the foreseeable future.

Unprovoked

In a thoroughly Free World™ definition of an unprovoked attack, a Texan game hunter has been killed by a South African buffalo, despite his intentions towards the animal being no more than to shoot it dead and have his photograph taken grinning over its remains. He had as yet not even wounded the buffalo, so there was really no excuse for the pre-emptive charge. Apparently the South African Cape buffalo has a murderous and alien culture which results in several deaths among the people trying to kill it for fun every year, leading to a reputation more fearsome than any other species on the planet, including the great white shark, the salt-water crocodile, the king cobra and the gun-toting twit.

Her Pedigree

She isn't from Nigeria, she'll fight who says she is;
And those who contradict will feel her fist upon their phiz.
She has no hint of kinship with those fiends from foreign lands;
She's let her passport lapse just so the whole world understands.

She never has gone near the place, in fact she'd rather die;
She couldn't find it on the map and wouldn't care to try.
She may have been to Lagos, but it doesn't really count;
For sixteen years of childhood is a very small amount.

Unlike the common immigrant, she knows her proper place
As fully paid-up runner in the British master race:
She's working for prosperity and finding ways to win,
While bricking up the entrance that allowed her parents in.

Mike Tiberfoam

It Takes One to Smell One

Conservative councillors in the north of England have suddenly noticed some of the cutbacks in local services, and are squeaking with righteous indignation. A very large rat was discovered inside someone's home, and the local representatives of the sub-verminous party made haste to disassociate themselves from any social conditions that might have helped to bring about its appearance. As always, it seems to be mostly the fault of the filthy plebs and their feckless low-income choice of lifestyle, which causes the rats to seek more prosperous pastures among the hard-working families. Since all the relevant cutbacks must self-evidently have taken place within the past thirteen months rather than during the decade and a half of steady prosperity which went before, the Conservatives will doubtless leave no stone unturned, no opponent unblamed and no minority unsmeared in rooting out the culprits.

Summer of Love

Doubling down on one's crimes is the privilege of those who will never stand trial. When the USSR doesn't collapse, declare war on the USA; when Vietnam proves recalcitrant, assault Cambodia as well; when your genocide in Gaza needs a boost, try and start World War III with Iran. In a similar spirit of repentance and humility, the Church of Rome, whose record of nurturing the young makes Epstein-Maxwell Youth Services, Inc. look like something from Benjamin Spock, has declared a Jubilee of Youth. Accordingly, more than eight hundred thousand bags of buzzing hormones assembled outside Rome yesterday for a rock-star rah-rah with the Pope, which climaxed a week of church-approved festivities. Among the more spiritual of these were the assembly of two hundred confessional booths at the Circus Maximus, so that the devout could grovel to the god of Leo where their forebears were thrown to toothier lions; and a video message from la ducetta Meloni in honour of the close and long-held bond between the Church and Fascist Italy.

Prevention of Prevention of Prevention of Prevention

In the wake of the glorious victory against abortion, and doubtless in anticipation of further triumphs against divorce, equal pay, and speaking without being spoken to, the Trumpster administration has ordered the destruction of almost ten million dollars' worth of mostly female contraceptives. Acquired by USAID before its abolition by the Trumpster and his head-tribble at the beginning of the year, the murder weapons are in storage in Belgium and apparently scheduled for destruction in France, but the Belgian and French authorities are dragging their feet. Two international organisations have offered to purchase and distribute the instruments of ovicide themselves; but the Trumpster administration has refused, presumably out of the same concern for the American taxpayer that gave rise to all those tariffs. A State Department spokesbeing was at pains to reassure that no condoms or HIV treatments were at risk; so the ladies can at least be comforted by the White House having discovered that HIV can affect heterosexual males.

Moral Pressure

In the face of Team Starmer's reluctance to inconvenience the moisture provision profiteering industry (beyond threatening to give it another half-decade or so to think about things), a handful of expenses claimants have taken decisive action by urging Thames Water to do better; and in writing to boot. Twenty-seven MPs whose constituents are in the company's sewage distribution and bonus payouts sponsorship area have delivered a letter to Thames Water's director of executive motivation to demand that the private corporation behave like a public utility, or else suffer continuing disapproval. Given the famously tender conscience of private corporations in general and of the moisture provision profiteering racket in particular, this will doubtless prove almost as effective as such gestures usually do.