We're All In It Together

Suffolk may be going up in smoke, but a bracing Britishness continues to characterise the attitude of our great nation's moisture provision profiteers in applying the rules for drought management. While hosepipe bans and paddling prohibitions are in force for the little people and their offspring, golf courses and private school playing fields continue to be healthily besprinkled; although the school in question has hastened to reassure that only the sports pitches are being watered. Such concessions to modern Socialism aside, the fact that the pitches will not be in use until September efficiently rubs in the timeless moral lesson about the difference between real people who own private grounds and the rabble who use public parks.

On the Bright Side

Almost three thousand people have died as a result of the heatwaves in May and June, prompting the Minister for Palantir to donate some thoughts to those who have lost loved ones. The Minister also thanked the NHS staff, care workers and emergency responders whose living standards, if not livelihoods, will doubtless be declared unsustainable in the next few rounds of hard choices and tough decisions. It remains as yet unclear how far, if at all, the record-breaking casualty figures are likely to affect His Majesty's Government's attitude to drilling for more fossil fuels and turning over large swathes of the realm to the production of infoslop and more heat; especially as the excess deaths will most likely have occurred among those expendable enough to be without air conditioning.

Moderate Moisture for Sensible Sunshine

Remarkably enough, despite rainfall levels last winter which drew comparison with a meritorious genocide, and despite the unabashed exuberance of pay packets for the moisture provision profiteers, half of England has somehow contrived to muddle its way into drought. Since no new reservoirs have been opened in thirty-five years, and since reducing corporate waste would blaspheme against the national religion, seven moisture provision profiteering outfits have imposed restrictions on use by the little people. Also on the positive side, the winter's floods mean that reservoir storage is only seven and a half per cent below the average, which certainly ought to show the nay-sayers and tree-huggers that climate change isn't all bad.

Caught Without Papers

A judge has queried the decision of his predecessor in rejecting the appeal of a Moroccan woman against His Majesty's Government's decision to kick her and her potentially job-stealing child back into the arms of her gangster husband. The Ministry for Wog Disposal based its case on a document which confirmed that Morocco was a safe country, but which had the minor disadvantages of being nearly a decade out of date and also not real. Although the judge who heard the woman's appeal did not deign to concern himself with such ontological pettifoggery, his senior colleague has claimed that relying on non-existent documentation is analogous, if you please, to relying on bogus evidence, as if that were anything wrong or unusual in carrying out the will of the people. Given that asylum seekers constitute a non-existent threat, it is surely well within the bounds of British fairness that they should be expunged on the basis of non-existent documents.

Schoolgirls Not Included

Although mere war crimes may not carry much weight with the Trumpster and his head-tribble, a certain residual significance does yet cling to the occasional legal technicality. His Imperial Majesty's Loyal Opposition are up in arms over the fiddling of official casualty figures for the Persian Crusade, which the administration is counting as two separate crusades for the purposes of evading the sixty-day limit on international aggression without the approval of Congress. Depending on whether one counts from before or after the sort-of-ceasefire, the casualties worth bothering about stand at either eighteen or fourteen dead and either six hundred-odd or four hundred-odd wounded. As a result, at least one among His Imperial Majesty's Loyal Opposition has uncompromisingly proclaimed that the Department of War is breaking the law and somebody ought to do something about it.

The Likelier Culprit

Even as the mainland swelters, some seventy million subjects of a more upstart royalty are in for their third major heatwave of the month. As the elevated temperatures will affect the more pious states in the south and centre, they are on balance unlikely to be viewed as divine punishment for the sin of succumbing to the woke mind virus. Instead, blame is expected to fall upon a heat dome, a meteorological phenomenon which holds hot air in place like a cunningly expanded weather balloon and thereby provides a subtly spurious substantiation for the Heathen Chinee global warming hoax. It is to be hoped that, as with the wrath of God, those afflicted will be morally reprobate and mostly expendable.

Flushed Out

Three-quarters of England's major sewage outlets are off limits to the public, even when the latter are not celebrating the latest heatwave by trying to drown themselves. Such is the delirious Britishness of the situation that major designated walking trails are unable to follow the rivers for which they are named; and in keeping with our fundamental values, there is no statutory right to ninety-six per cent of the rivers in the Anglo-Cymric Agglomeration of Nations. It is likely that the situation will change once the country's wholesale conversion into an infoslop farm necessitates the further privatisation of rights and socialisation of liabilities; for the present, landowners are fortunately available to exert whatever prerogatives their consciences allow.

On What Is, and Is Not, An Emergency

Nearly sixty per cent of those arrested for violent disorder during a recent outpouring of spontaneous indignation against police persecution of the poor little master race had also been reported for domestic abuse. Twenty-two of the thirty-seven detained warriors for British values are not only wife-beaters but self-righteous wife-beaters; which doubtless accounts for the response from the Ministry for Wog Disposal. A spokesbeing proclaimed that "violence against women and girls is a national emergency," but made no mention of violence against ethnics, foreigns, migrants, asylum seekers or other causes of legitimate and understandable concern; thereby magnanimously leaving open the possibility that the race rioters are merely seeking a socially acceptable outlet for their plucky bulldog patriotism.

Radiating Goodwill

One of the world's more primitive, authoritarian and violent theocracies has further destabilised the Middle East by striking a nuclear deal with Saudi Arabia. The Trumpster and his head-tribble have consented to permit their fellow royals to enrich uranium, thereby ensuring that the head-chopping House of Saud relies on American technology rather than that of the beastly Russians or the Heathen Chinee; and should they ever step out of line, there's always the possibility of tariffs and good old democratisation by detonation to keep things civilised. Since the Persian Crusade was ostensibly started in order to prevent Iran enriching uranium, the announcement will also serve to emphasise, for anyone who may have forgotten it, the subtle but vital distinction between evil fundamentalist head-choppers and virtuous fundamentalist head-choppers.

Heritage Police

Austria's government is seeking to deter far-right pilgrimages to Hitler's birthplace by installing a police narcotics unit in the building. The site is close to the German border, so the area is also frequented by traffickers of non-political drugs; and it is assumed that the police will be able and willing to detect any illegal neo-Nazi displays which may happen to take place under their noses. Presumably this will have the self-evidently beneficial effect of forcing the far right to continue its incursions into the mainstream, where the adoption of policies that might cut down its share of the vote would be just as immoderate and unsensible in Austria as in the rest of the civilised world and Westminster.

Thirst for Knowledge

So pragmatically sensible are Team Starmer's plans to turn the country into a moderately-sized infoslop production park that no account has been taken of the quantity of water required to do so. None of the hot air comprising the Government's AI bubble policy says anything about water, although Team Burnham's plans for "public control" may well include some convenient mechanism for ensuring that the taxpayer gets appropriately soaked. Nor does the Environment Agency's latest national framework for water resources include any estimate of the consumption rate once every high street has been graced with an infoslop emporium. Fortunately infoslop emporia have been designated as critical national infrastructure, which economically inert human beings patently are not; so doubtless the more expendable plebs can look forward to many more finger-waggings, both online and off, regarding the responsible use of moisture.

God's Own Charlie

There are few things tyrants like less than having attention called to their mistakes, and the Deity is evidently no exception. A New York sculptor, and an immigrant to boot, has spent a hundred thousand of his own money to create a graven image of the martyred Charles James Kirk, who was killed last September by an assassin's bullet which Baby Jesus and His family connections unaccountably failed to deflect into someone less important. The artist modestly compares his motives with those of da Vinci and Michelangelo, both of whom created work on commission for people who would probably agree with Kirk on such matters as the rights of non-Christians and the proper position of women in society. Alas, the Deity's wounded pride seems to have brought down a curse upon the sculpture, which instead of the anticipated millions has raised only a lot of messages from people wishing to give it an organic baptism, and has also indirectly caused the modern Leonardo di Buonarroti to break his foot. With a faith of which the prophets would be proud, the great man insists that the piece is not cursed but blessed, and has announced a plan to dump it in Times Square on the anniversary of Kirk's transfiguration. In light of the Deity's famously refined sense of humour, it is certainly to be hoped that nothing unfortunate occurs.

A North Wind Doth Blow

A north wind doth blow
And Burnham's a go,
And what will Keir Starmer do next, poor thing?
He'll mooch off to be
Where freebies are free,
And suits are all vacant and grey, poor thing.

A word-wind doth blow
With pledges on show,
And what will Keir Starmer do next, poor thing?
He'll bench at the back
And brief the odd hack
On how all the racists are vexed, poor thing.

An ill wind doth blow
And bile is in flow,
And what will Keir Starmer do next, poor thing?
He'll clean out the rot
(Fictitious or not)
By which his career has been hexed, poor thing.

A war-wind doth blow
And wogs must eat crow,
And what will Keir Starmer do next, poor thing?
He'll pose as a sage
Upon the world stage,
And look like a clerk come unsexed, poor thing.

A headwind doth blow
And growth has been slow,
And what will Keir Starmer do next, poor thing?
He'll head to the trough
And have a good scoff,
And trust that the swill is enough, poor thing.

Sir Anthony Fondles

Thrift is for the Little People

Moisture provision profiteers are losing about a fifth of the water they pump because of leaky pipes, according to research by Greenpeace. Naturally, this wastage makes it all the more necessary to wag the finger at moisture consumers and exhort them towards more prudent use of what is left. A corporate spokesbeing pointed out that the captive market is very selfishly responding to the heatwaves by using more water, and that moisture provision profiteers are "fixing leaks, moving water across regions and running treatment works flat out to keep supplies flowing" - which, given that their primary function consists purely in profiting their shareholders and enriching their executives, is obviously rather charitable of them.

Not Quite Caught Up

Despite Britain's steady progress with regard to Fascism and changing governments every two years, it does not appear that a corresponding cultural enlightenment has yet occurred in Italy. The country's notoriously slow legal system has convicted and sentenced thirty-two people over the fatal collapse of a bridge in Genoa eight years ago, in which forty-three people were killed. This stands in stark moral contrast to the Grenfell Tower fire, which occurred a mere nine years ago last month and killed seventy-two, and for which our revered English justice has yet to prosecute, let alone convict, a single person or corporate entity.

They're Coming Home

Who says the special relationship is dead? After only a quarter of a millennium, the American colonies are seeking a return to British values by issuing currency depicting the current monarch alongside some sniggerably uplifting slogans. The Trumpster's amusingly-named Commission of Fine Arts has approved the design for a commemorative £0.74 coin featuring the words IN GOD WE TRUST next to a royal portrait with brows knitted and head-tribble rampant. Unlike the British sovereign, the coin is not solid gold; doubtless because American bullion reserves are already under some little strain what with the likely tastefulness of the decoration in the White House ballroom.

Our Sovereignty Betrayed, Again

While Britain's back is turned thanks to the world-rocking conspiracy to discredit, dishonour and de-fund the strutting Caudillo of the Farage Falange, it appears that treason has been afoot in the notoriously migrant-heavy Mediterranean. Crypto-Hispanic fifth columnists have conspired with the dreadful dagoes to undermine the Treaty of Utrecht, whereby Gibraltar was ceded to the master race as a bribe for not meddling in the War of the Spanish Succession. In keeping with the population's ancient sin of voting to remain beneath the yoke of the Strasbrussels dictatorship, border controls have been undermined and British colonial personnel have mingled promiscuously with the natives. Whether the strutting Caudillo of the Farage Falange is prepared to commandeer a flotilla of his sponsors' yachts and have them fitted out as gunboats to restore the natural order remains as yet unconfirmed.

Eternal Fire Within the Bounds of Collaborative Landlordship

Since faith is most virtuous when maintained either without evidence or in the teeth of copious evidence to the contrary, there may be one or two members of the Anglican Communion who are surprised at their church's latest decision not to bother with even the usual threadbare pretence of moral leadership. The issue this time is the environment, which the Church has voted against committing itself to protect in any measurable and therefore ungodly fashion. His Majesty's Government has already pledged to ask landowners kindly to take whatever action they feel, in good conscience, they would like to, on pain of being asked again with almost equal assertiveness in a few years' time; and the Church was doubtless duly motivated to fall in with the rigour of the proceedings.

Birthright Politics

Whether to provide fodder for the head-tribble or to yield second-hand flesh of sufficient bagginess and decrepitude for Mitch McConnell to occupy without undue discomfort, the Republican-turned-Trumpsterlicker Senator Lindsey Graham has apparently gone to his reward. The head-tribble and its Trumpster have responded in appropriate monarchical fashion, by decreeing that the great man's political assets should now be made hereditary and bestowed upon his sister. Those who object to the idea will be reassured that the inheritance is purely an interim arrangement for the next six months, after which the term expires and the senatorial seat can be properly bought.

A Very British Energy

In what will doubtless serve as a salutary warning for promulgators of the green crap, Britain's largest community-owned solar energy farm has been ordered to shut down for the summer because it's too efficient for the grid. As one would expect, the Government's energy system operator timed the order with impeccable Britishness, issuing it days before the start of the heatwaves and the resulting increase in demand on the power supply. The project is now forbidden to start generating again until the autumn, effectively punishing the effrontery of its members by fining them a couple of million in revenue. Meanwhile, His Majesty's air-conditioned Government remains thrillingly open-minded about the wonders of new drilling for North Sea oil.

Burning for Learning

During the grand Dickensian days of the great British boarding school, those who collected the fees put out the idea that heated classrooms and proper feeding would induce lazy repletion in the pupils, whereas cold and hunger would aid their concentration and harden them up nicely for a lifetime of service helping to civilise the fuzzy-wuzzies. In the unlikely event that the tech-bros and corporations who run His Majesty's Government have any interest in retaining an educated workforce, a corresponding myth may soon be required for the present academic climate. Since the effects of global heating have been known for a matter of mere decades, it is natural that most of the country's schools should still be adapted for the weather of yesteryear and therefore currently approaching the conditions of a Texas penitentiary; especially as schools tend to be staffed by teachers, a calling for which successive governments have manifested a degree of casual contempt equalled only by their attitude towards NHS medical personnel, unpaid carers, and refugees. Nevertheless, it would hardly be true to say that nothing is being done. In keeping with the great British tradition of the emergency response, His Majesty's Government was advised as early as two months ago that schools should be fitted with air conditioning in the next quarter-century or so.

Burning for Justice

The Christian state of Texas is suffering persecution because of its eminently godly practice of broiling those who displease it. Presumably thanks to divine judgement (Texas of all places must be immune to the Heathen Chinee hoax that is global heating), correctional beneficiaries are being exposed to the purifying fire of fatally high temperatures; while the state has at its disposal only twenty times the amount of spare cash required to fit the institutions with air conditioning. One campaigner has even been so unfair as to claim that the Christian state of Texas tolerates unconstitutional and brutal conditions, as opposed to revelling in them, wallowing in them, and gloating over them.

In Line With Expectations

Vanishingly unlikely and shockingly unprecedented as the prospect may seem, it is just possible that the CEO of Team Starmer may be about to renege on a pledge. Having criticised Fishy Rishi for letting La Truss and the National Johnson bestow Ruritanian sinecures on their accomplices when they got thrown out, the martyr to moderation straightforwardly proclaimed that he himself would not indulge in an ejection honours list. However, that was when he was expecting a decade or two in office and the undying gratitude of several million adoring defectors from the Farage Falange. In the present altered circumstances, the statesman of the sensibles has declined to reveal whether he intends elevating such luminaries as the previous prime minister, Morgan McSweeney, to the ermine-clad empyrean that is the House of Cronies and Catamites. He has said that the matter will be looked into "in the usual course of things," which presumably means he has not yet received instructions from on high as to who is most deserving and whether the Trumpster and his head-tribble will be satisfied with a single honorary knighthood between them.

One Does Not Drive the Best Carriage to Visit the Servants' Lodge

Having flown to Turkey in a four-hundred-million-dollar bung from the Qatari royal family, the Trumpster and his head-tribble will travel from Turkey to the UK in the vice-Air Force One. The newer aircraft will apparently be along as a tourist attraction, since the Trumpster and his head-tribble seem to be under the impression that it constitutes a stately home. Suggestions that security concerns might have led to the change, perhaps owing to suspected Iranian sympathies in the Qatari bung's systems, were waved away with a tiny hand; doubtless the aircraft's racial loyalties are considered assured thanks to the high-visibility orange coating on its flight recorder. How the Special Relationship will be affected remains as yet remarkably unexplored.

Black Lungs Matter

A firework display celebrating the overthrow of hereditary lunacy in favour of elective idiocy has bestowed upon Washington DC the worst air quality of any major city in the world. Thanks to some well-timed thunderstorms and an uncharacteristic dearth of emissions from the Trumpster's upper sphincter, the conditions lasted only a few hours; yet the Heathen Chinee will nevertheless have been satisfactorily discombobulated. Given their perpetration of the global warming hoax, and the cunning and insidious manner in which they have sought to compound their malign oriental jest by systematically cleaning up their own environment, it is fitting that the realm of the Trumpster and his head-tribble should utilise the fiends' most famous invention against them.

Another Price Worth Paying

Just as moisture provision privatisers promised greater efficiency and lower bills, and delivered rivers of sewage and poisoned tap-water; just as successive NHS "reformers" promised better care and delivered increased bureaucracy and a demoralised workforce; so the great infoslop boom appears to be promising, mirabile dictu, rather better than it intends to deliver. The companies in charge of building a water consumption emporium in Scotland trumpeted their intention to power their blanched cyberpachyderm entirely from renewables, while being well aware that no realistic prospect exists of their doing any such thing. Naturally, His Majesty's Government waved the project through with a moderate and sensible snigger of complaisance: when set against the potential for sackings, surveillance and pocket-picking, the environmental consequences of the infoslop boom are a metter of small concern.

Britishness Imperilled Yet Again

Our United Kingdom is a voluntary association of four nations: Wales (voluntarily conquered and annexed in the thirteenth century), Scotland (voluntarily yoked by royal arrangement in the seventeenth century and fused by élite stitch-up in the eighteenth), Ireland (voluntarily conquered in the seventeenth century, exploited and brutalised through the eighteenth, depopulated by starvation in the nineteenth, partitioned in the twentieth, patronised in the twenty-first), and England, voluntary benefactor and resources manager to all the aforementioned. Patriots will therefore be disturbed to observe that elements among the provinces are actively and deliberately undertaking the treasonous and un-British business of plotting to vitiate their voluntariousness. In the event of a Farage Falange success at the next general election, and the assorted final solutions to the nation's problems which would most likely follow, there seems a very real prospect that the provinces will seek to secede from the mainland in premeditated acts of crypto-Caribbean ingratitude. It is therefore to be hoped that a suitable portion of the planned welfare bonanza for the Ministry of Wog-Bombing will be spared for the Farage Falange and its strutting Caudillo to maintain stability on the Home Front, even at the cost of slightly delaying Westminster's forthcoming invasion of Russia and concomitant rescue of Western civilisation.

Flagging Enthusiasm

Another local cadre of the Farage Falange seems to be sorting things out in fine British fashion. Since the county of Nottinghamshire has no more pressing needs at the moment, the Falange-run council has spent seventy-five thousand pounds on a flag-hanging scheme to enhance civic pride. The Falange's shadow Minister for Gruel and Gristle, the thuggish Lee Anderson, proclaimed that the taxpayer wouldn't have to pay a penny because local businesses would, if they knew what was good for them, rush joyously to sponsor the enterprise out of their proceeds from our great Nation's booming post-Brexit economy. Alas, it appears that business in Nottinghamshire has been entirely taken over by traitors, foreigns, and other adherents of the Protocols of the Elders of Mecca; so the scheme is costing the taxpayer some seven and a half million pennies, or eighteen million in the genuine British money that prevailed before the beastly Euro-wogs instituted the curse of decimalisation. How far the enhancement of Nottinghamshire's civic pride has proceeded as a result remains as yet unclear.

Sunshine for Business

Good tidings about the climate calamity have emerged from the Continent, where the recent heatwaves caused a significant spike in excess deaths among the perfidious French, the beastly Belgians and the dreadful Dutch. Most of those who died were over forty-five, and the worst affected were those over sixty-five; so moderate and sensible economic planners in Britain will rejoice at the prospect of future heatwaves dispensing with those among the master race who are perilously close to collecting what remains of their pensions. The largest increase was in domestic demisements: another good sign for the mainland, where homes designed to withstand colder and wetter weather will turn into ever more efficient death-traps as infrastructure profitability becomes ever more sustainable and power cuts deprive the surplus population of what little cooling ability they currently possess. Casualties among the wealthy, the air-conditioned, and those with significant financial interests in perpetuating and exacerbating the climate calamity appear, as usual, to have been negligible.

Deeply, Sincerely and Economically

We can concede today
Our predecessors' shame:
They're decades dead, so they
Can rest content with blame.

We'll barely spend a bean
In fiscal recompense:
Our nation's conscience clean
At minimal expense.

We've made the moral leap,
Said sorry for their crime;
For talk is always cheap
And gets more so with time.

Layton Doolittle

Blasphemous Bishoprics

Members of the Society of Saint Pius X have been getting themselves up in fancy dress and indulging in a ritual-filled ceremony, which sounds nearly as redundant as being strong in the Lord and the power of His might. Since the ceremony included the unlicensed ordination of bishops, the participants are automatically excommunicated despite the Society's extensive and friendly associations with fascists and Holocaust deniers. It has long been known that the Christian clergy have trouble keeping their hands to themselves; but while the Church of Rome's attitude to picking the taxpayer's pocket or sexually abusing a dupe has generally been tolerant, using hands alongside the magic words is a very different matter.