Newly Unreformed

By a supremely unfortunate coincidence, one of the Farage Falange's shiny new councillors has had to resign for "personal reasons" before even dipping a toe in his time-consuming, non-grandstanding, unsalaried duties. In an unrelated matter, the patriot in question had allegedly posted on social media celebrating the rape of a Sikh woman and referring to Muslims as "dirt" and "rats." He has denied the allegations; and the Cadre of Directors at the Farage Falange has expelled him from the corporation, so presumably they believe the denial. The patriot also allegedly committed the indiscretion of claiming white people, rather than rich people, as the master race; which would be unlikely to help his case in any of Britain's three or four national right-wing parties.

Moderate Actions for Sensible Solutions

We've had a kicking, that's a fact,
So now it's either time to act
Or else to go on as before
And tell the plebs to love us more.

Our options now are stark and clear,
So let us face them without fear:
We'll either throw our Leader out
Or let him wait and hang about.

The work of change is not yet done,
The fight for Britishness not won.
We must transcend these ups and downs
And really verb the abstract nouns.

Verity Midler

Needs Must When the Tribble Drives

It's a cruel hard world for special people, and perhaps never more so than when enemies are inconsiderate enough to fight back. Fortunately, the United States also has allies and client régimes, and the Trumpster administration has shown itself prompt in turning on those whenever circumstances require. Although Denmark and Spain proved recalcitrant, Italy dubious and Britain whinily half-hearted, the recently installed satrap in Venezuela has obligingly rolled over and permitted the extraction of a slightly smaller quantity of enriched uranium than that which has served among the less whimsical pretexts for the Persian Crusade. The spoils of this brilliant victory were transported to South Carolina; presumably for storage in the private larder of the Trumpster's rabid radioactive head-tribble, which will surely be made greater as a result.

Could Do Better

British educational values remain robust if slightly diluted in Singapore, where the great pedagogical sport of flagellation is to be reintroduced. The pastime will only be practised upon male schoolboys who bully others, and only as a "last resort." Both conditions betray a certain post-imperialistic lowering of standards: true Britishness would never reserve corporal punishment to the last resort, and would not regard bullying as punishable at all, except possibly in cases where the victim was bringing in higher fees than the pupil with the leadership qualities.

Still Not Quite Worthy Of Us

Despite their shared British values and exalted status as His Majesty's Government's favourite fundamentalist head-choppers, the sensible moderates of the House of Saud have declined to follow Team Starmer's robust example in abetting the Persian Crusade. Naturally, the decision is motivated entirely by self-interest: having agreed a deal with Iran to safeguard Saudi oil exports, the House of Saud has chosen to ignore the great moral lesson, embodied in both the Trumpster and the CEO of Team Starmer, that one's pledges should never be worth the paper they are written on. By contrast with Britain's stalwart capitulation, the Saudi régime refused to allow use of its bases and airspace even for wink-wink defensive operations in the Strait of Hormuz, and does not even seem to regard Iran's reckless retaliations as significantly more sinful than such little indiscretions as the Trumpster administration's opening schoolgirl massacre.

Southern Water

Although Gibraltar notoriously voted against independence from the Strasbrussels dictatorship, it has remained thoroughly British in its standards of hygiene. Lacking a waste-water treatment plant, the colony is pumping forty thousand non-Barbary primates' worth of raw sewage into the Mediterranean. Attempts to improve matters have consisted mainly in throwing taxpayers' money at a pair of private companies, of which one pulled out because of financial difficulties and the other decided that it would rather do something else instead. Fortunately, the British government has exonerated itself of all legal responsibility by removing the UK from the jurisdiction that ruled against the pollution; while the colonial administration has blamed eveything on the dirty dagoes next door. It is surely a hopeful and glorious sign when an issue can be kept unresolved by methods even more British than the problem itself.

Tainted Holes

Despite several years of intermittent proximity to the Trumpster and his rabid radioactive head-tribble, it seems that certain portions of the White House have become unaccountably toxic. The monarch has requisitioned three Washington DC golf courses for conversion into his personal pleasure gardens, and some dumped rubble from the palace renovations was found to be poisoning the soil. A federal judge has attempted to interfere, warning of serious consequences should these ecological adjustments be permitted to continue without first filing the appropriate paperwork. How far the head-tribble will be minded to adapt its reproductive cycle to the whims of the judiciary remains as yet unclear.

The Better Class of Refugee

As one mediaeval potentate to another, the Pope has responded to the Trumpster's recent insults with a carefully measured fuck-you, appointing a sometime Salvadorian illegal immigrant as the church's chief henchman in West Virginia. As with our own Archbishop of Canterbury, who considered her talents too modest for a medical career, the appointee's initial vocation in janitorial and construction work apparently entailed insufficient humility and excessive material joy, besides the obvious moral flaw of mere worldly usefulness. Having moved to the US during the latter stages of the civil war in his own country, the appointee also has the advantage of presumed cleanliness from the taint of Liberation Theology, and of being politically shrewd enough to remove himself from the reach of the death squads by emigrating to the country that paid them.

They're All Right In Their Place

Certain cadres of the Farage Falange seem to have fallen victim to the environmentalist mind virus, and are seeking to associate themselves with the reintroduction of beavers into the Leicestershire landscape. While the Farage Falange does not normally endorse scenery-chewing wild animals whose buildings lack gold-plated lifts, it seems the Leicestershire local authority has come to the dim realisation that beavers can help protect against flooding and will not require fiscal recompense that might better be spent on union-jacking every lamp-post in the county. Despite the squeals of patriotic indignation from the Falange and its strutting Caudillo over proposals to portray beavers on British currency in place of one of the last century's more inept Chancellors of the Exchequer, it remains as yet unclear whether there will be any excommunications over the matter.

Unequal Aspirations

In anticipation of a scheduled state visit by the American monarch, the Heathen Chinee have very subtly and insidiously suggested that stability should be safeguarded. Such a stance is of course in blatant contradiction of every shared British value painstakingly defecated into the Trumpster's cranium by the rabid radioactive head-tribble that controls him. Beijing is especially exercised by continuing American obduracy over plucky little Formosa, which China claims as its own even though the realm of the Trumpster claims only Greenland, the Caribbean, the Americas and anywhere with petroleum; and the master race will no doubt respond with its accustomed levels of diplomatic engagement.