And what a week it was!
A week which saw the birth of an entirely new government, the death of the current Parliamentary Labour Party as a credible democratic entity, and the miraculous ressurection of Boris “Foreign Policy” Johnson.
But what else happened?
Let’s look back and see:
Angela Eagle announces her bid to topple the Labour party membership
by John Shafthauer
Following several weeks of acting like a political human shield (and thus protecting the Tories and Tony Blair from Jeremy Corbyn’s spud-gun of righteousness), the Parliamentary Labour Party (PLP) has finally come forward with a candidate to topple the socialist Labour membership.
The candidate in question is Angela Eagle, and although in the interviews she gave on Sunday she came across like a person who had sh*t in the shower and was expecting imminent discovery, she did appear infinitely less shifty today. This, however, is potentially only because she remembered to bring her cheering section with her – meaning that every non-answer she provided was met with the sort of rapturous hooting that would make an American cinema patron look like an Oxbridge librarian.
But why is the PLP looking to topple the membership?
Although mainstream thought is that Corbyn is the biggest threat to neo-New Blairism, Jeremy’s contribution is ultimately dwarfed by the impact of hundreds of thousands of socialists wedging themselves in between MPs and the corporate hand-outs that companies like HSBC dangle over the careerists’ salivating, liar’s mouths like dog treats.
All hail the unelected Empress of former Great Britain, Theresa May.
by Alex McNamara
Permission granted to sh*t your pants.
Some of us were only just getting our heads round a virtually unknown stooge, Andrea Leadsom (the real-life Dolores Umbridge from Harry Potter) somehow worming her way to the doors of 10 Downing Street. However we needn’t have bothered. Like everyone else who led us into this cataclysmic sh*t-storm, she too has now bailed out. Perhaps her purpose is now served, and she’s returned to the secret underground Tory facility for a battery upgrade. (Alongside Boris Johnson, who’ll almost definitely return to haunt us.)
One can’t help but wonder if the whole thing was some ridiculous distraction. The very idea of putting someone so inexperienced, someone with quite so many skeletons in the closet in line for the top job at a time of undocumented constitutional crisis – it just seemed bizarre, even for a country that’s lost all sense of reason.
Perhaps that was the point though?
I have a theory about Donald Trump. Hillary Clinton was always intended to be the next US President: it was her turn on the merry-go-round, and someone came up with the bright idea of pitting her against the most inane, inflammatory and bigoted fool in all the land. (Enter “The Donald”.) By comparison, she’d seem like a vaguely rational human being, and a rightly terrified populace would flock to her open arms. Easy peasy, how could she lose?
Unfortunately, it seems to have backfired. Turns out the American people are far more down with complete unbridled lunacy than anyone could have reasonably predicted, and sadly, they weren’t alone.
Brexit leaders to be immortalised on UK Mount Rushmore called ‘Rush-Off Peak’
by John Shafthauer
Following their victory in the EU debate, the brave heroes of Brexit have been summoned to English-Valhalla to spend the rest of eternity quaffing Carling Black Label with St. George, King Arthur, Beowulf, Winston Churchill, and Edd the Duck.
But how will those left on Earth remember the great sacrifice that those brave folk made for us?
How will we remember who’s responsible for the state of the UK?
How will we remember what they looked like even, when they were recalled from the political scene at such breakneck speeds that the shutter-flash image of the back of their turning heads was etched into our retinas like a lightning strike?
An answer to that may now have been found, as plans are underway to immortalise the Brexiteers in a similar manner to how Mount Rushmore commemorates America’s greatest Presidents (greatest Presidents and Teddy Roosevelt anyway – what was he hiding under that moustache!?).
Tony Blair is the real victim of the Iraq war, claims Angela Eagle
by Andrew Humphrey
Her claim comes in the wake of the publication of the Chilcot Report, which took seven years to reach the already self-evident conclusion that Tony Blair and a number of other Labour MPs are lying gasbags who launched a totally unnecessary war of aggression, which killed or utterly destroyed the lives of millions of people.
Ms Eagle, who is currently challenging Jeremy Corbyn for leadership of the Labour Party, said:
Reviled war criminal Tony Blair is the true victim of the Iraq war, primarily because he killed all those people in good faith after he believed all the ‘evidence’ he made up.
Commemorative stamp marks the coronation of Queen Theresa May
by John Shafthauer
Later today we will see the coronation of Theresa May – Queen of the Anglos – Ruler of the four (but probably soon fewer) kingdoms – Khaleesi of the green and pleasant heartland – the un-learnt – the economic swarm-born – breaker of firewalls – mother of CCTV cameras – and so forth/etc.
In celebration of this epic event, Royal Mail have released a series of commemorative stamps, so that we can all remember the time that a woman with only several psychopathic tendencies was crowned ruler of the UK.
Theresa May admits she was just kidding, and will announce her real cabinet later
by John Ranson
New prime minister, Theresa May, threw off her soulless ice queen image and gave the whole country a good laugh on Wednesday evening, with a series of hilariously satirical cabinet announcements. It’s expected that Thursday will see a return to business as usual, with a mixture of backstabbers, careerists and hopelessly underqualified nonentities filing through the door of Number 10.
In particular, pretending to make Boris Johnson Foreign Secretary stood out as the moment when May struck comedy gold. Who’d have thought that the former rather dour (and frankly a bit scary) home secretary would be able to scale such absurd heights of nonsense?
The BBC’s political Duracell bunny Laura K was heard simpering that maybe some of David Cameron’s legendary stand-up acumen was still hanging about like a ghost in the Downing Street hallway. Off The Perch is not so sure. Cameron’s jokes were about as funny as cramp, whereas May is operating on a rarefied level of funny/not-funny that would draw appreciative mumbles from Stewart Lee.
Boris Johnson put in charge of racist relations
by John Shafthauer
Following his successful campaign of racist rhetoric (because whether or not you agreed with Brexit, that is demonstrably what he ran), Boris Johnson’s tireless dedication to “putting it up ‘em” has been rewarded with the foreign secretary role – a title which will henceforth be known as the Overlord of Racist Relations.
We spoke to Prime Minister May’s press secretary – one Lucifer Hellprick – to find out more:
Well, the fact is that Brexit has weakened us on the world stage, and a lot of countries are thinking about giving us a raw deal to show us what for. Now that we have an Empress, however, it seems like the next logical step is to reboot the Empire – namely so that we might once more use our God-given power to bully the smaller, sh*tbag countries around and make ourselves feel big again.
The problem, obviously is that we sold quite a lot of that God-given power off in recent years, and so we need a foreign secretary who can put Johnny Foreigner in his place with the sort of verbose conviction that only centuries of tofftastic inbreeding can provide.
I rang a talk show to stand up for Corbyn, but fate got in the way
by Alex McNamara
The moment I officially accepted I was a boring old man was when I switched off Kerrang! and Planet Rock radio, and started favouring LBC News. That’s probably a definitive yardstick, signalling the essence of youth has vanished, gone forever. Now you’d rather whittle away your time listening to people like Derek from Blackburn explain why it’s everyone else’s fault he’s a complete douchebag, and how what we really need are more speed-bumps. In the run up to the referendum and immediately afterwards, listening was frankly little better than self-flagellation.
I listen to radio mostly in the car. On Tuesday night, on a jaunt round the M25, the topic was the farce of the Labour coup, and the man they’d all have you believe was the most divisive, offensive, incompetent and wretched man in politics today: Jeremy Corbyn (cursed be his name).
One barmy seventy-three year old woman phoned in ranting all the typical stuff… that he’s “unelectable”, that his “heart’s in the right place but he’s not a leader” etc (so basically everything Angela Eagle had spouted the very same morning on breakfast TV). The host Ian Payne quite rightly tried to challenge the spoon-fed rubbish pouring down the phone line, but the sadly deluded generic nonsense fountain at the other end just ramped it up – talking over him. She went on to make the following comments:
- Jeremy Corbyn is “vain”, “selfish”, an “embarrassment”, and “anti-semitic”.
- The only people who support him are “students and young people who don’t know any better”.
- He won’t sing the national anthem, so obviously doesn’t respect this country.
- He wants to redistribute wealth that Britain simply doesn’t have.
- We need David Miliband to return and save the Labour Party.
I almost crashed the bloody car.
Last man standing Jeremy Hunt rewarded for his excellent track record
by John Shafthauer
Theresa May has shuffled the cabinet this week to the point that the word ‘shuffle’ doesn’t really do it justice – the closest verbs to what actually happened being ‘razed,’ ‘gutted,’ and, ‘culled.’
Despite that, however, one man has survived the grand expunging – a man who definitely hasn’t turned everyone he represents against him – a man who positively isn’t viewed by the country at large as some sort of live-action cartoon weasel – a man who almost certainly hasn’t replaced MRSA and Dr Harold Shipman as the greatest tragedy to have ever afflicted the NHS.
And that man, of course, is Jeremy Hunt!
However, all may not be as it seems, as although Jeremy is clearly a complete and utter Hunt (I heard some cockneys calling him that – I assume it’s complimentary), apparently the reason why he’s kept his job is that none of the other MPs could picture themselves in the role even if they had a 10ft selfie-stick.
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