Fair Warning

Britain's telecoms watchdog has fastened its soft, sloppy gums around the ankles of a company for adhering to the letter and not the spirit of the rules. Ofcom recently ordered companies to inform customers about price increases in pounds, pence and advance; O2 has done just that, hiking monthly bills by an extra forty per cent from next April and tactfully refraining from any overt sniggering when breaking the news to the victims. Ofcom expressed disappointment that a profit-oriented company should do everything it can get away with in the name of profit; the extent to which other profit-oriented companies will be chastened by this uncompromising whine of rebuke remains as yet unclear.

Sacred Size

Christian humility and quasi-British efficiency have combined potently in Barcelona, where the brown Lego magnum opus of the Venerable Antoni Gaudí is still under construction after a hundred and forty-three years. The tallest tower of the minor basilica of Sagrada Familia has just been made slightly taller, thereby making it taller than the previous tallest church in the world. The building, which is expected to take another decade or so to finish, has modestly refrained from claiming the coveted ecclesiastical title, despite having no other architectural or spiritual merits that the Associated Press considered worthy of mention.

Some Victims are Better than Others

Once more the strutting Caudillo of the Farage Falange has brought his hobnailed common sense to bear upon a sensitive subject, eliciting predictable ingratitude from the beneficiaries. Victims of grooming gangs who do not share the strutting Caudillo's opinions as to the remit of the Government's inquiry have received the same treatment as British citizens who do not meet the strutting Caudillo's idea of Britishness: he has simply decreed that they are not what they claim to be. Few would deny that when it comes to making false claims about oneself the former commodity trader and self-proclaimed man of the people knows whereof he speaks; but the women concerned do not seem to be taking his tough love in a very constructive spirit. Despite the fact that all the strutting Caudillo wants is a laser-like focus on rampant and randy foreign darkies, the women have demanded an apology for, of all things, ignorant and untrue statements, as if the Farage Falange had ever been inclined to give out any other variety. Perhaps significantly, no less a thug than Lee Anderson felt the need to temporise on the matter, declining to support his Dear Leader unequivocally even while proclaiming that the gals might benefit from a bit of grown-up conversation.

Another Subtle Shift

Although the great British nation cannot afford such luxuries as infrastructure, social housing or the National Health Service, there are always funds to spare for wog-bombing and migrant-bashing. Hence Team Starmer has followed up its sudden realisation that inappropriate racism is neither legitimate nor understandable with yet further change from Conservative policy to Conservative policy. The previous rabble were plotting to shunt asylum seekers from hotels to military barracks while denying that this would cost more; Team Starmer is plotting to shunt asylum seekers from hotels to military barracks while proclaiming the extra cost both nonexistent and a price worth paying. Apparently the idea is to restore public confidence by pandering to appropriate racism, though it remains as yet unclear whether the great British public or its common-sense embodiments in the Farage Falange will appreciate the nuance.

Our Only Error is Modesty

From breakfast clubs to genocide, the achievements of His Majesty's Government have been so spectacular that the great British public hasn't noticed them. Thus Wideboy Wesley Streeting, the Secretary of Sales for Health, has won widespread praise for his response to the recent deplorable events in Caerphilly, wherein he delivered constructive criticism of the Government's advertising. In its well-meaning zeal for austerity, migrant-bashing and rowing back on the green crap, Team Starmer has assumed that voters will rah-rah such measures purely on their merits; alas, many a managerial idealist has been crushed by the consequences of such otherworldly utopianism. Fortunately, the CEO of Team Starmer may still be able to save the situation provided he confines the Government's racism to practice rather than rhetoric and confines his sloganeering to words of two syllables or fewer.

Poverty Turbo-Propped

It's always edifying to see true British values in action, and the nation's most successful corporate war profiteer is once more doing us proud. BAE Systems has celebrated the forthcoming Remembrance Sunday rah-rah by retiring the commercial aircraft type that delivers humanitarian aid across eastern and central Africa. Having recently announced record profits thanks to the Russia-Ukraine war and the Righteous State's rampage against the Arab Untermenschen, BAE Systems is seeking to capitalise on global instability through Britain's ever-expandable wog-bombing industry; and since there are few more reliable destablising factors than poverty, starvation and disease, the company is doubtless to be congratulated for its joined-up approach to commerce.

Cancer Cured

His Majesty's Government has reacted with understandable caution to the nagging of mere scientists about the health risk from processed meat. It was ten years ago today that the World Health Organisation classified the chemicals in processed bacon and ham as leading to inceased likelihood of bowel cancer, and some experts have so far forgotten their place as to recommend that the Department for Profitable Healthcare should take, of all things, bold action to put compulsory warnings on the packaging regardless of the effect on corporate profits and future directorships. Predictably, a ministerial spokesbeing was extruded to proclaim that it was all just a theory; one can only imagine the cost to His Majesty's Government, and to Wesley the Wideboy in particular, should the public suddenly wake up to the idea that bland yet persistent pink pigflesh might have unpleasant and even dangerous effects upon the unwary consumer.

Hardly Unusual and Only Briefly Cruel

Justice has been visited upon a heinous felon in the Christian state of Alabama which, given the ongoing shortage of drugs for lethal injection, has resorted to suffocation by gassing. Those who object that the eighth amendment to the constitution of the United States forbids cruel and unusual punishment were reminded that this does not amount to a guarantee of painless death; although the federal judge who made the ruling did at least have the good grace to acknowledge that death by suffocation may involve "discomfort, panic and emotional distress." Fortunately, the case against this particular felon was unencumbered by the testimony of mere experts, and his melanin content was appropriate to the constitution's relevance being at best debatable.

Eco-Warriors

Should the Trumpster and his head-tribble finally forsake the pacific zeal of the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation, the remnants will have only themselves to blame. An offensively woke cabal of retired senior officers has called for investment in renewable energy both domestically and overseas, on the patently simple-minded grounds that increased global stability would constitute less of a threat to national security than its opposite. The group even goes so far as to hint that military budgets might be better expended on such things than on the kind of new toys with which ministries of war customarily facilitate the supreme sacrifices of their plucky little servicepersons. Governments in the Free World, assuming they pay any attention at all, will most likely be somewhat disturbed at the endless naïvety of the military mind, which still seems to imagine that any NATO member's national security planning ought somehow to be concerned with national security.

Diplomatic Economy

In light of the pressures facing the British taxpayer, His Majesty's Government has very prudently decreed that the expense of inflicting the Trumpster, his head-tribble and their slimy little henchman on Scotland during the summer should be borne entirely by the Scottish taxpayer. The Trumpster and his head-tribble were accommodated at a cost of some twenty-one million, while putting up the vance-poxident cost a perhaps unduly flattering seven times less. His Majesty's Government is framing the visits as holidays; and since the Trumpster seems to have given most of his time and attention to his golf courses this presumably counts as more appeasement diplomacy, evading punitive tariffs by nodding along with the Trumpster's own view of the event. Meetings with the president of the EU Commission and with the CEO of Team Starmer constitute a purely incidental detail for the Trumpster and his head-tribble, so naturally they are equally if not more incidental to His Majesty's most allied and obliging Government. Equally, the fact that Scotland elected only twenty-one Labour MSPs and only one from Labour's policymakers at the Farage Falange surely indicates that Scottish taxpayers need to learn some hard lessons about grown-up politics and legitimate concerns.

Category Error

Christian pressure groups in Australia are understandably concerned at the threat of new laws to protect the vulnerable and gullible against abuse and exploitation. Testifying before a parliamentary inquiry into cults, advocates of the true faith pointed out that laws targeting trans-bashing, gay-baiting, the promulgation of myths and conspiracy theories as infallible truths, and even the extortion of money through emotional blackmail would be very dangerous from a theological perspective. While it is regrettable that persecuted Christians seem as reluctant as ever to abide by their Saviour's injunction to rejoice and be exceeding glad, it's certainly reassuring that some have progressed far enough to admit that the only substantive difference between a cult and a real religion is population size.

Nowhere is Immune

With poll ratings still slightly below the thirty per cent required for another electoral landslide, Team Starmer has made a brave attempt to break with the Thatcherite orthodoxy of the past few decades. Although the old bag had no particular objection to poverty or migrant-bashing, she did disapprove of football hooligans even when they were English; and since dispensing with poverty and migrant-bashing is off the agenda, Team Starmer decided to condone football hooliganism instead. When police and local authorities in Birmingham banned Maccabi Tel Aviv supporters from attending a forthcoming match on grounds of past misbehaviour, the CEO of Team Starmer promptly denounced them as antisemites: a label which presumably must now be applied to the police and local authorities in Tel Aviv, who have postponed a scheduled match because of Maccabi supporters exercising their sacred right to self-defence in the face of legitimate and understandable concerns. Whether Team Starmer has made any attempt to undermine the operational autonomy of the police in Tel Aviv remains as yet unclear.

Dieu et son droit

His Majesty's Government is deeply concerned over allegations that Jeffrey Epstein's princely chum tried to use his taxpayer-funded police bodyguard to research his accuser. In order to avoid distracting the little people from his family's hard work and self-sacrifice, the prince has graciously agreed not to use the titles His Royal Highness or Duke of York while remaining a prince and a duke; and it seems that the response to this latest embarrassment may eventually be almost as rigorous. While a minister in His Majesty's Government has conceded that the allegations merit looking into, when determining whether consequences will occur His Majesty's Government will naturally be guided by the royals, because it's called His Majesty's Government for a reason. Anything further than the current guidance would require an Act of Parliament, and the House of Windsor is too modest, too self-effacing and too ardent in public service to endure the prospect of giving the Commons that sort of trouble.

Let Us Swipe Your Life

Presumably on the assumption that those who would lay down their lives for whoever happens to own the government of the day can be duped into just about anything, Team Starmer is offering military veterans the chance to be test animals for the BlairCard™ digital panopticon and pleb incentiviser. While the Blessed Tony's data collection boondoggle will start as optional for the master race, it will be compulsory for anyone who needs to prove their right to work; and doubtless future administrations will take due pains to make life as inconvenient as possible for anyone un-British enough to opt out. Blithely brushing aside the fact that the current parliament cannot bind its successors, the Minister for Muskification promised that the BlairCard™ will not be used to track anyone whose citizenship hasn't been arbitrarily revoked and that the data systems absolutely will not be privatised; which is unquestionably a pledge as absolutely reliable as any Team Starmer has ever made.

Brothers in Christ

With galumphing British tact, the House of Windsor has chosen the week in which Virginia Giuffre's memoir was released to announce that the House of Windsor remains by no means averse to hobnobbing with squillionaire sex abuse rings. The head of the firm and supreme governor of the Church of England is to betray the legacy of his fellow divorcee Henry VIII by becoming the first reigning English monarch in several centuries to join a pope in disobeying the Saviour's commandment at Matthew 6 vi, thereby demonstrating for the benefit of anyone who came in late that even Christians can agree on a few things provided they don't also have to agree with Jesus. His Majesty will graciously accept the title of Royal Confrater of the Abbey of the Basilica of St Paul Outside the Walls: an honour which, as an Anglican spokesbeing proudly proclaimed, will be of no consequence whatever. Meanwhile a spokesbeing at the Ministry for Wogs, Beads and Trinkets pronounced the UK's relationship with Vatican Incorporated more important than ever at a time of global instability. It would certainly be regrettable, with fascism on the march across the western world, if the master race should neglect its ties with Mussolini's pet theocracy.

Fashionably Late

Residents of the northern wastes who can no longer expect a modernised rail system may rejoice that the real people have a brand new clock, of a design which will trickle down to the provinces in due course. The re-tooled corporate timepiece is the first since before the Thatcher revolution and its demolition of the public sector, and symbolically features the old British Rail logo coming apart so that the fragments can run around in ever-opposing circles. Along with tacking the word Great onto the synonym for efficiency and economy that is British Railways, the design will doubtless compensate a new generation of commuters for all the various ways in which the country continues to remain behind the times, off the rails and jammed against the buffers.

Debt of Honour

Astoundingly enough, it appears that liars, swindlers and thieves may on occasion bilk their creditors. The company that defrauded the taxpayer of a hundred and twenty-two million, and exacerbated the National Johnson's casual endangerment of medical personnel during the pandemic, has twiddled its thumbs past the deadline set by the high court for repayment despite its close links to the lying, swindling, thieving Right Honourable Baroness Mone OBE and her lying, swindling, thieving husband. Although the company condescended to offer negotiations, perhaps with a fifteen-year grace period in mind, Wideboy Wesley Streeting was huffing and puffing less than an hour after the deadline expired. Team Starmer's prince in waiting pledged to pursue the debt with everything the taxpayer has got so that the funds can be put back into making the NHS a viable proposition for the private companies he hopes will one day pay him for it.

Political Animal

One of the Farage Falange councillors who fell prey to sudden indisposition in the face of the work involved appears to have surfaced in Wales. The plucky little patriot invaded the pitch where Belgium, home of the festering black heart of the hated Strasbrussels dictatorship, was in the process of defeating the honorary British national team. In the gallant English spirit of Owen Glendower, the have-a-go hero evaded capture and finally disappeared altogether. The conqueror's political allegiance was not explicitly signalled; but standards of personal hygiene and a likely propensity for gobbling up and defecating out all sorts of rancid garbage make the Farage Falange a more than reasonable supposition.

Political Rough and Tumble

Apparently the juvenile who was put in charge of Warwickshire county council after the original leader found himself lacking in patriotic pluck and gumption has complained of being pushed in Nuneaton. Much like the Trumpster and his minions instantly deducing the motives and allegiance of the assassin of the lamented Charles James Kirk, the strutting Caudillo of the Farage Falange has responded with a pronunciamento that no alleged assault upon a junior employee could ever possibly arise except through the beastly machinations of a Communist conspiracy. While lynch mobs outside wog warehousing emporia tend to be spontaneous outpourings of legitimate and understandable concerns, there is naturally no such excuse for calling a member of a fascist company a fascist and giving him a robust British shove.

Bear Witness Unto the Truth

Alongside pride (pístis) and hatred (elpís), perhaps the most obtrusive Christian virtue is the ability to see past the beam in one's own eye in order to point out the mote in someone else's (agápē). The Pope, who recently canonised a teenager for posthumously curing people, and whose Saviour promised eternal life in return for assuming a light yoke of absolute obedience and continual self-abasement, has been wagging the finger at online gospel that provides incomplete or inaccurate information in order to entice a larger number of dupes. The heir to the book-burners and the paedophile cover-ups also delivered a paean to freedom of information, although the date when the Vatican archives will be thrown open for general inspection remains as yet unspecified.

Even A Border May Be Too Strong

Britain's independence from the Strasbrussels dictatorship may not yet have brought quite the advertised benefits, but nearly half of His Majesty's subjects are still charitable enough to try and muddle through as if the beastly Euro-wogs were reasonable types after all. Nearly forty per cent of regular travellers and nearly fifty per cent of the master race are unaware of the biometric checking system which will be imposed upon non-EU citizens from tomorrow, and which will involve photographing, fingerprint-scanning and interrogation as to whether they can both support themselves during their stay and depart without requiring deportation. This means, of course, that travellers in the EU will be treated as foreigns even if they come from the mainland; while those who overstay the limit of ninety days in a hundred-and-eighty-day period may even be treated like immigrants. Although another six months will be required before the scheme is fully operational, it remains as yet unclear whether this will be long enough for British patriots to assimilate the full scope of the injustice.

Enduring Values

As the Church of England congratulates itself and/or prepares to tie itself in knots over the appointment of a female Archbishop of Canterbury, a borough council in Kent has served up a timely reminder of what life could be like when the Church was more than a Ruritanian minority cult. The council's leader has petitioned the Home Secretary to issue posthumous pardons to a handful among the thousands of women executed as witches owing to legitimate and understandable Christian concerns. Although the women are unlikely to have been immigrants or socialists, there will no doubt be questions about the prospect of forgiving them their fictitious trespasses. It's true that the British governmment is occasionally disposed to make token amendments for historical wrongs once the victims have been dead long enough; but asking Team Starmer to disown a witch-hunt may well be a moral step too far.

Watch the Skies, Not the Scum

As befits a born-again Christian and thus a true believer in solving imaginary problems, a peculiar political bag lady is trying to scare up funding for her fourth season ticket onto the Washington gravy train by pledging to pursue the truth about UFOs. Some of the pledge was made with Caps Lock actuated, presumably in order to emphasise the sanity of the proceedings; for it should by no means be imagined that Lauren Boebert's concerns about alien incursions are recent or immature. Almost a year ago she raised the alarm about unidentified anomalous phenomena in the oceans, from which at least one source has observed an orb emerging and being met by another orb. It would of course be frivolous to suggest that the sighting may merely have been the beaching of two economy-sized beneficiaries of the great American diet, and no such horrid notions will be entertained by your correspondent; at least not for very long. Nonetheless, it is hard to avoid the suspicion that Boebert's habitual caution and restraint may not altogether outweigh the indiscretion of exposing extraterrestrials in a country whose nominal chief executive is operated solely by the toxic diarrhoea of a rabid radioactive head-tribble.

Our Dustbins Are Bigger Than Yours

In keeping with Britain's status as a world-beating champion of the environment, His Majesty's Government has allowed an eighty-four per cent increase in the amount of plastic waste dumped on the lesser breeds. The beastly Euro-wogs have banned exports of waste to poorer nations, so failing to take advantage of the resulting gap in the market would have been fiscally irresponsible, un-entrepreneurial and doubtless antisemitic. Besides, at least one of the receiving countries is sufficiently liberated from health and safety bureaucracy that the recycling sector kills about two people per month; so the master race is not only greener but also at marginally smaller risk from the migrant inundation.

Why Can't These People Learn English?

One of the nation's less important Farage Falange-lite political parties hit rather a sweet spot of Britishness by handing out chocolate bars in a wrapper that mis-spelled the name of the country and the country's favourite battle. Apparently the Farage Falange itself once made a similar gaffe, although in the case of Lee Anderson illiteracy is presumably a point of pride; and another of the nation's less important right-wing parties, Scottish Labour, also managed to mis-spell the word Scottish this year in a by-election campaign. The typing error at the Conservative rah-and-blah, doubtless the work of some sleep-deprived drudge at an Inner Mongolia union-jack factory, was elegantly complemented by non-smart quote marks around the patriotic Badenochian thuggicism in which the sacred word appeared. Smart quotes are also known as sixty-sixes and ninety-nines, so given the Conservatives' ability with numbers the omission may be one of their more prudent decisions of the past decade and a half.

Thames Water Job Done Shock

Those efficient people at Thames Water have successfully persuaded the Board of Directors to emerge from their natural habitat, where the environmentally unfriendly waste products held together with fat, oil and grease had been residing in their accustomed hygienic style. Though ignorant and backsliding persons might consider such an operation part of the normal remit for a moisture provision company, albeit one whose infrastructure maintenance work ethic is essentially Let it rot, Thames Water is using the removal as a pretext to whine for another fifteen years or so in which to prepare for doing business within the law. In order to point up its moral superiority, the company is also wagging the finger at water consumers, some of whom seem to think that they should be permitted to pollute the sewers below ground even though they have no contract with the Government to pollute the rivers above.

Dzala Ertobashia

Thanks no doubt to the benign ministrations of our shared patron saint, British values are suitably rampant in Georgia, where demonstrations against the government have been greeted with Home Office-style threats against dissenters and accusations that the nation is being subverted by beastly foreigns. Georgia's patron saint is of course the same dragon-slaying British immigrant whose flag the CEO of Team Starmer recently adopted as his personal symbol of unity against the lesser nationalisms. Since Georgia's current government is owned by the richest man in the country and considers its sovereignty threatened by the Strasbrussels dictatorship, its ideological allegiance with both the last Conservative administration, the current crop of Trumpster-suckers and the coming Farage Falange-Liberal Democrat coalition need hardly be belaboured.

The Unacceptable Exacerbation

A Moral Tale

A Most Evil Terrorist, who had been terminated in the act of attacking people at a place of worship, ascended to the gates of Heaven. He was just about to saunter through and join the hallowed company of preachers, patriots and inquisitors when the Recording Angel slammed down the pearly shutters.

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded the Most Evil and now incredulous Terrorist.
"You have committed a grave crime," said the Angel; "not only did you murder, but you butchered your infidels as they were praying, which the British Government has informed us is a grave aggravation of your offence."
"My offence?" repeated the Most Evil Terrorist, bristling with moral indignation. "Is it, then, an offence to massacre the infidels in the very act of their unholy blasphemy?"
"Had you but chosen to vent your righteous wrath upon a school or a hospital in an appropriate location, or upon a mass political protest urging something other than harsher treatment for refugees," replied the Angel, "your actions would have been excusable and quite possibly meritorious; but in the opinion of God and His Majesty's Government it is rarely a good idea to interrupt people in the act of abasing themselves before Authority."

Thinning Out the Hordes

Those incarcerated on Nauru for the de facto crime of seeking asylum in the British Commonwealth are complaining that they cannot afford to eat. The island imports most of its food, and even the generosity of the Australian home affairs department apparently fails to cover the cost of living, at least for the inmates. Moreover, this regrettable situation has occurred despite the Australian government paying squillions to an American profitable incarceration entrepreneur for "facilities, garrison and reception services," which presumably translates into Oldspeak as cells, thugs and turnkeys; but not for feeding the animals. What can possibly have gone wrong?

Strasbrussels in the Sun

Treason has been rampant in the Caribbean for some years now, with various countries committing a range of enormities from deposing the Royal Family and demanding reparations for the slave trade to deliberately and wilfully making themselves un-British. Appeasers and Quislings on the mainland have consistently failed to chastise the culprits, perhaps because all the imperial gunboats are busy hunting down asylum seekers in the Channel. As a result four Caribbean governments, including the beasts of Barbados and the back-stabbers of Belize, are threatening to descend from un-Britishness to outright Euro-woggery, with freedom of movement and threats of cultural and economic integration. One of the stated aims is to reduce the temptation for young Caribbean citizens to emigrate to Europe and North America, but it remains as yet unclear whether His Majesty's Government's policy-makers in the Farage Falange will consider this a sufficiently redeeming feature.

It's Another Winner

Team Starmer's plan, if plan is the word I want, to call back the halcyon days of Blairism by re-adopting his reverence's most popular policy after the Iraq adventure appears to have come a bit of a cropper. Of course, Team Starmer's proposed digital ID cards are more sophisticated than the sainted Tony's, and therefore still more difficult for the plebs to comprehend in their full patriotic glory. Besides opening a rollicking new chapter in the saga of His Majesty's Government's relationship with the Babbage computifying engines, they would enable the deportation of anyone who didn't have a fancy phone, and would wipe out illegal employment as long as all the employers who don't bother with the current checks decided they'd quite like to bother with the new one. Thanks to such relatively simple advantages, the arrangement was apparently jolly popular with the great British public until Team Starmer decided to give it a try, because even the great British public has its limits; and leaving aside the transparent use of authoritarian gimmickry as a look-over-there on behalf of Morgan McSweeney rather than as an end in itself, there can be few more off-putting prospects than being turned into a corporate data farm under the legitimate and understandable pretext of setting up a racist surveillance state.