Middle East in Flames - No Britons Hurt

Iranian missiles are very inconsiderately falling within a couple of hundred metres of Britain's plucky little troops. While the glorious co-victors of Iraq, Afghanistan and Libya have elected to sit this one out for the moment, Britain is still participating in the Persian crusade after a non-participatory, British sort of fashion, much as it would ideally like to participate in the European Union. Yet despite all moderate and middle-way efforts to be simultaneously involved in the good bits and not involved in the rest, Muslim extremists persist in causing unnecessary trouble. It is to be hoped that the work of freedomisation can be brought to a rapid and happy conclusion before Iran is able either to harm any non-expendables or to goad the World Cop or the Righteous State into a friendly-fire indiscretion.

Plucky Little Helpers

Lighter moments are all too rare for Team Starmer at present, so the management must have rejoiced at the latest assault on Iran. Despite occurring a couple of days too late to bury the bad news of the by-election, the wog-bombing may provide some compensation for the Government's drubbing at the hands of sectarian Muslims forcing their families to vote for a white working woman representing a party led by a gay Jew. Indubitably it enables Team Starmer to compensate for its domestic flops with a bit of international posturing.

Moral courage is as prominently on display as one would expect, with denials of any participation in the attack followed by stern warnings against indiscriminate (any, in Oldspeak) retaliation by iran. The chair of the foreign affairs select committee said that the UK should resist being drawn into another Middle East war and admitted to some difficulty in seeing any legal justification for the military strike, before stating that the UK might well allow itself to be drawn into another Middle East war should the mad mullahs have the temerity to treat the UK as an accomplice of the Kingdom of the Trumpster and the Righteous State. Presumably in order to forestall any such delusion, the Royal Air Force is already being deployed to help defend the aggressors against the consequences of their aggression; while the CEO of Team Starmer roundly condemned the Iranians for refusing to seek the negotiated solution into which the Trumpster and his head-tribble are so ardently trying to bomb them.

E Pluribus Snafum

Connoisseurs of law and order will note with pleasure that several agencies in the kingdom of the Trumpster and his head-tribble have adapted the ICE policy of summarily executing American citizens and applied it to one another's equipment. The Pentagon, the border authority and the Federal Aviation Administration have all stopped talking to each other and are blithely shooting laser beams into the skies of Dixie whenever a blip crosses a screen wrong. A few weeks ago the border authority saved the nation from a party balloon under the impression that it was a drone operated by drug-trafficking wetbacks; and now the military have bettered that by shooting down an actual drone, though unfortunately one operated by their fellow Americans against those same Latinozoid orcs. It's quite an achievement in swamp-drainage to have smalled the government so thoroughly as to prevent collusion even between people who are working for the government.

Rolling In It

Rolls-Royce, that iconically British manufacturer of luxury vehicles and wog-bombing power, has just announced record profits and a substantial splurge for the shareholders; so naturally its chief executive considers this an opportune moment to demand a handout from the taxpayer. The money would be for a new commercial jet engine, which the company apparently hopes will enable it to break into a lucrative new market before the AI slop centre bubble bursts. Happily for the nation's new-found economic efficiency, Rolls-Royce is also building a small blanched radioactive pachyderm in Wales, for which the taxpayer has been charged two and a half billion and which is expected within five years to start making money for Rolls-Royce.

Safeguarding History

As usual, the greatest military heritage in the world is facing existential threat. A golden ram's head which was liberated by Britain's plucky little servicemen in 1874 now resides with the Royal Artillery, who are denying access to researchers and seem less than enthusiastic about following the example of certain museums and loaning looted artefacts back to the peoples they were stolen from. Partly the restrictions are for economic reasons, as the presence of civilian eyeballs near a military trophy cabinet would precipitate a rise in insurance premiums that could ill be afforded by a government which may soon be forced to conquer Russia and China in self-defence. But scarcely less important than money is the issue of national security. We all know that the best air force in the world can't keep its own bases secure enough to protect its aircraft from being chromatically terrorised; imagine the nation's peril should the best army in the world tempt the lesser breeds with a sight of the spoils of Empire.

Diplomatic Priorities

Apparently the Trumpster's and his head-tribble's choice of their ambassador to France is proving almost as brilliant as Team Starmer's recent choice of ambassador to the Trumpster. The beastly French summoned the great man over some comments made by the State Department about the demise of a fascist in a street brawl, but the great man had better things to do and sent an underling instead. Expectably for a Trumpster appointee to high office, the ambassador is a tax dodger related by dynastic marriage to the imperial family; he is also a real-estate mogul with, one presumes, some time-consuming personal commitments as regards obtaining advantageous access to vacant lots in Gaza and Greenland. The beastly French have responded to the missed meeting by allowing him even more time to himself; but the extent of the ambassador's and the State Department's gratitude is not as yet a matter of public record.

Gallery Rogues

Doubtless emboldened by the judiciary's recent quibbling over the Palestine Action proscription, another terrorist cell has committed an outrage in the Louvre. An unflattering picture of Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor, Gentleman, was placed on display by activists of Everyone Hates Elon, a protest group specialising in the persecution of wealth creators, askers of genuine questions, tellers of forthright truths, and other repositories of real Britishness. It remains as yet unclear how far the beastly French intend co-operating with the mainland in bringing the conspirators to their merited imprisonment without trial; but since the group's very name is a slander upon the man who epitomises the moderate and sensible ideals of extreme wealth and linguistic automation, it seems unlikely that His Majesty's Government will be minded to leave the atrocity unchastised.

Corpus Sancti Francisci

No crazy cult is this we serve,
Nor marred with superstition's taint
While scientific arts preserve
Some patriotic bits of saint.

He gave his wealth to feed the poor,
And so in honour of his fame
We venerate these leavings; for
We have no plans to do the same.

Samuel Grimsnipe

Historical Decency

Some fetters to be auctioned in Scotland were used by beastly Arab slave traders around 1780, a mere century before their evil doings were halted by a coalition of the virtuous including the British Empire, whose own slave trade was no longer around to provide a moral example of how it should be done. The auction has been condemned as profiting from oppression, in ways that the retention of the Crown Jewels self-evidently does not; and the only suggested solution appears to be public interest stewardship, which sounds suspiciously difficult to translate into either patriotism or economic growth. Even so, the ethical-historical debate is no doubt encouraging. Since many of our great nation's public buildings and much of its statuary are linked in one way or another to the Atlantic slave trade, and since practically all of our remaining tatters of prosperity are linked in one way or another to human rights abuses in the present, nothing could be more British than to erupt in righteous indignation over the legal sale of an antique symbol for hard work and playing by the rules.

Not the Way We Do Things

Someone has made an anonymous donation worth over two and a half million pounds towards repairing the water pipes in Osaka. Admittedly, the gesture is a quixotic one - the money is in gold bars, and is enough to pay for the renewal of about a hundred and thirty-third of the city's antiquated system - but the donor's apparent obsession with mere infrastructure over the needs of moisture provision profiteers is surely a dangerous whim. City officials are stunned, as well they might be, at such anti-business and un-British conduct.