Facebook To The Future

Voiceover: The year is 2020. Mark Zuckerberg’s drones have brought the internet to the developing world, with mixed results. Meanwhile, in a cave outside Kandahar…

Scene: Three men are sat in a semi-circle, in traditional Arab dress.

Man 1: Alright, quiet down. Gentlemen…

Man 2: And ladies… (all laugh)

Man 1: Every time you do that, every time it cracks me up. Gentlemen, time to call this quarterly meeting of the Al Qaeda management committee to order. Point 1 on the agenda…

(Sound of electronic music from a video game in the background, everyone looks at one man on his smartphone)

Man 1: Ahmed!! What have we said about turning off phones during meetings?

Man 3: Sorry. I’m just addicted to this Capitalism Crush Martyrs.

Man 1: Put it away. Right, point 1 on the agenda. The failure of our attack on the Olympics. Saeed, what do you have to say for yourself?

Man 2: I don’t understand it. Everything was planned down the finest detail. We even put it on Facebook so everyone knew what was happening. Got a like from the NSA too.

Man 1: Any learning points to take away?

Man 2: Just the one really. Don’t forget about clocks going forward when setting timers. Tick, tock, boom. Poor Omid.

Man 1: Right, point 2. The attack on our last base. Any clues on how they knew where we were?

Man 3: Hang on, just let me update my Foursquare. Yes! I’m mayor of this cave now, suckers.

Man 1: That does it. (Reaches behind him and grabs a rifle)

Man 2: What are you doing?

Man 1: I’m going to sit outside this cave until I see one of those bloody drones, and I’m taking Facebook down. For good.

Man 3: Hang on, before you go. (Man 2 and Man 3 sprawl in front of Man 1, pulling faces and taking a selfie)

Man 2: SMILE!!!!!

My Most British Things

To the tune of “My Favourite Things” from The Sound of Music

Consulting detectives who say “elementary”

Knowing your place and deferring to gentry

Laughing at jokes that make you want to cringe

These are a few of the most British things

Tea at the Ritz and a Gregg’s Cornish pasty

LibDems being weak and Tories being nasty

Teaching pointless dates of old Queens and Kings

These are a few of the most British things

Shakespeare’s Globe and Geilgud at the Old Vic

Right wing newspapers being xenophobic

Paying your gas bill by pawning your bling

These are a few of the most British things

When Cameron talks, about values

Really makes me sad

Then I remember he’ll be gone next year

And things just don’t seem so bad....

Tube Strike News

Voiceover:     We interrupt our usual programming to bring you this special report…

Anchor:          As the strike by London Underground staff reaches its second hour, news is coming in of the hardships being endured by commuters. Our reporters around the capital have been chauffeur-driven out to bring you these updates. First, we go over to Brian at Warren Street

Brian:             Thank you Kate. A slow start to the morning rush hour here at Warren Street, as the mole people are forced to emerge blinking into the daylight. Extra security has been put in place in case the Morlocks and Chuds take advantage of the deserted tunnels to launch an attack on us surface dwellers. Now over to Jill at Euston, who is so close I can virtually reach out and touch her. Jill…

Jill:                  Thank you Brian. Chaos here just a few minutes ago, as a pedestrian stepped out from the station onto the pavement and immediately froze with his eyes in a downward position, expecting it to carry him to his destination. Too afraid to make eye contact several hundred of his fellow passengers joined in, blocking off access to the station…

Anchor:          Sorry Jill, I’m going to have to stop you there. Drama at South Kensington, so let’s go see what our reporter there can tell us…

Dave:              Thank you Kate. It appears we’ve had our first tube strike baby, born right on the platform here. As I speak, the crowds are holding him up to the light in scenes reminiscent of The Lion King. Details are patchy at this time, but I understand the child has been named “Not Bloody Boris Johnson That’s For Sure”, and the mother may not have even been pregnant when she began queuing for her train.

Anchor:          Thank you Dave. Incredible scenes, I’m sure you’ll agree. Of course it’s not just the Underground that has been affected, with the impact also being felt on the road network. Angela is on The Embankment for us. Angela…

Angela:          Thank you Kate. Traffic has been brought to an absolute standstill here, after a woman appeared to stage a daring hijack on a UPS van. I understand the driver had pulled up behind a bus which was stationary at this stop, when the woman – more familiar with tube travel – mistook his van for the second carriage and climbed in through the passenger door. She refused to leave the van until police with a loud hailer told her she had arrived at Temple station, and to take all her belongings with her. Kate. 

Anchor:          The reduced Underground service has of course put extra pressure on London buses. Transport for London rules would normally prevent us from reporting live, but we have managed to sneak Bob onto the network from where he has sent us this report. This may contain images of poor people, which some of you might find distressing.

Bob:                It’s hard for most of us to envisage what these poor bus users go through on a daily basis, but today their numbers have been swelled by outsiders forced here by the greedy union barons.

Our journey began at first light, although for some it did not begin at all as they failed to work out which side of the road to stand or which of the many magic obelisks the bus would stop at. So disoriented were some that they attempted to cross the Thames on foot. Most remembered to use the bridges provided but others disappeared from view beneath the murky water.

At times we faced lengthy pauses, as our driver attempted to check the documents of those trying to board. I lost count of the number of times prospective passengers slapped their Oyster Card onto his face in an attempt to find the correct method to gain one of the few remaining seats.

During one such delay, a woman sympathetic to our plight ran to the windows, passing bacon sandwiches to grasping hands before waving us a tearful goodbye as we lurched briefly back into motion.

It’s impossible to say when, or even if, we can expect to reach our eventual destination. Please tell my wife and children that I love them. This is Bob Hall for BBC News, somewhere on Marylebone High Street.

Anchor:          Harrowing, harrowing scenes there. Although not from Harrow, obviously. We will continue to keep you up to date with developments as they, errr… develop. In the meantime, please remember to heed the advice of Transport for London and the police and not to travel unless your journey is absolutely necessary, or you’re a reporter for a rolling news channel. Goodnight.

1944

Soft
The voice that bids farewell
Strain
Each sinew to prepare
See
Plans they can never tell
Stride
Where only heroes dare

Board
The vessels to their fate
Bond
Like brothers with their peers
Breathe
Deep, close their eyes and wait
Beach
Charge towards their deepest fears

Loud
The ringing in their head
Long
The day still just begun
Life
Hanging on by a thread
Lead
The battle to be won

Press
On further up the beach
Push
The dark thoughts from their mind
Pray
The Lord, their souls to keep
Pause
For those they leave behind

David Cameron's Easter Sermon

In a change to Easter Sunday tradition, rather than the Pope's message from the Vatican we bring you David Cameron's sermon direct from his holiday home in Lanzarote.

“And I did say, bring unto me your work-shy, your scroungers and your genuinely disabled, that I may tar them all with the same brush and stop their benefits.

Suffer the little children, that St Michael of Gove may send them all to free schools, where they will be taught a curriculum that will be of no use to them, as there are no jobs when they leave.

I did cast the money lenders out of the temple, and tell them to go forth and return with bigger envelopes if they wanted my protection.

For blessed are the donors, that they may set the agenda and dictate the scriptures.

And the saviour was laid in the manger, for his mother was under 25 and therefore not entitled to Housing Benefits.

My father’s house has many rooms, paid for by avoiding the tax collectors. If your house has many rooms, then your benefits shall be cut until you leave.

And thou shalt love thy neighbour, unless you believe them to be an illegal immigrant or benefit thief, in which case thou shalt dob them in.

So blessed are the poor, that we strive to create more of them.

For mine is the kingdom, the power of the Tory. Forever and ever. Amen.

Now fetch the nets, I'll show that bloody jellyfish who's in charge..."

Oh Mr Miliband!

(to the tune of the old music hall standard “Oh, Mr Porter”)


Oh Mr Miliband, what am I to do?
I wanted Grosmann’s pasta sauce, but they only have Ragu
It’s a middle-class crisis, that we’re all going through
Oh Mr Miliband what would your David do?


Oh Mr Miliband, won’t you tell me please?
When will you show us how to fix the country on its knees?
Instead of banging on about machines in bookies shops
Oh Mr Miliband I could slap you round the chops


Oh Mr Miliband, Campbell says that you won’t win
He says you’ll need a deal with Clegg or you’ll be in the bin
Maybe it’s time for you to try and step it up a bit
Cos if you can’t see off Cameron then you really must be sh…


Oh Mr Miliband, you’re losing core support
You’re happy to throw it all away without a second thought
Focus on the many, instead of the wealthy few
Remember Mr Miliband… we’re not all middle class like you.

Science: The Cure for Racism

Racism.

Probably the most pointless and ridiculous of all the bigotries, given it is based on nothing more than the passing of genetic material from parents to their children.

Unlike homophobes, racists can't even fall back onto some sort of sacred religious text to justify why they need to hate a particular section of society.

Much has been said, and no doubt will continue to be, about how to combat racism through sociological measures. More integration, a better of understanding of other cultures, that kind of thing.

Bear with me, here comes the science part. The number of atoms in the observable universe is estimated to be at least 10⁷⁸

For those unfamiliar with scientific notation of large numbers, that's 10 multiplied by itself 78 times. It's a very, very big number.

These atoms have been around for billions of years. since the beginning of the universe. They've been bonding into molecules that make up everything that is in us, around us and is us. Those molecules break apart as things decay or are destroyed, and their component atoms go off looking for another dance partner to bond with and make some more molecules.

You are comprised entirely of atoms, formed into different molecules and compounds. The number of atoms in the average human body is estimated to be 10^27.

In other words. another very, very big number.

The atoms that make up you, haven't always made up people. You've got a lot of carbon and hydrogen atoms in you, for example. These crop up in things like sugar cane and oil. You've also got a need for calcium, which you'll find in things as different as chalk and cheese.

So there is a very, very small chance that the atoms that make up you are ones that have always been in other people. You are statistically certain to contain some atoms that were once a tree, or a hippopotamus, or a block of Edam.

Who knows where those atoms have been? Even the ones that might have been other people at some point in time come with no guarantee of being from people of the same race as you.

Now how silly do your claims of racial or ethnic purity look? How different are you to the Asian fella down the street, or the white bloke you see shouting anti-fascist slogans at you from behind a police line? You're both made of atoms. Who knows, at some point some of your atoms might have been bound with theirs in the same molecule.

You want to combat racism? Teach kids where they come from and what they are made of. Let them see just how stupid it is to consider someone with a different skin colour or a different ethnic origin to be worth less than they are.

On an atomic level at least, we're all the same and we're all different.

Commercial Break

“Is your party sinking without trace? Are you out of your depth? Why not get things back afloat with the new UKIP Karaoke Classics. Contains all your favourite tunes, like…”

Don’t blame it on the rainfall

Don’t blame it on the flood plain

Don’t blame it on the cutbacks

Blame it on the gayers!

“Or this party anthem…”

Men Marrying Men

Why we’re flooded, men marrying men

To God it’s an offence

White, white, white or white

Same sex marriage just ain’t right!

“So to get your party on the right track, make sure you pick up UKIP Karaoke Classics!”

We’re drowning in the rain

We’re drowning in the rain

Now the gays are marrying we’re

Drowning again!

“UKIP Karaoke Classics isn’t available in any shops. It’s only available from polling stations for the low, low price of your dignity. Get yours now, before they disappear!”

KILLER STORM SWAMPS BRITAIN

As Britain cowers under the attack of a deadly storm, the Daily Mail can reveal how it has:

• KILLED this weekend's sandcastle contest at Fowey
• WASHED UP some old pallets that fell overboard from a trawler
• SMASHED the record for media hyperbole set by the last storm

While the mainstream political parties bury their heads in all the sand left in our streets by the killer storm from Hell, we have been speaking to the UKIP MEP for Cornwall, Charles Foaming-Gripe. He told us:

"There is no doubt where the blame for these terrible events lies. It cannot be just a coincidence that no sooner do 7 million Bulgarians and Romanians arrive in Britain, than the country begins to sink into the sea. It's simple physics. There are too many of them here growing fat off our benefits system and taking the decent, hard-working, honest, decent, hard-working British people down with them."

One resident of Looe, too afraid to be named in case of reprisals by left-wing immigrant sympathisers told us:

"It's terrible. All the local shops have been closed. People are having to move out of their houses here and back into their London flats. It was never like this before the immigrants. The sea always knew where it belonged. Now everything just seems to think it can come to this country and take whatever it wants.

We've built a wicker man and found a townie to sacrifice in order to appease the Gods, but everything is so wet we can't get a fire started."

RELATED TO THIS ARTICLE:

How the right pair of galoshes can transform your teenage daughter into a wet little sex kitten

Seasonal Satire

Just a little trio of tunes, loosely based on recent events and with a festive flavour. Enjoy!

As the spectre of corruption looms over football, players across the country are working on their karaoke for the team Christmas party…

(To the tune of “Merry Christmas – War Is Over”)

So this is Christmas

And what have we done?

Smashed in an own goal

Got sent off for a bung

So this is Christmas

And win lose or draw

We’re hoping that next year

We get bunged some more

That bloke with the briefcase

I’m sure he’s alright

But we’re just footballers

And not very bright

And so this is Christmas

What do we have planned?

Picking up a booking

For seventy grand

So if your team is losing

Then you know the score

Maybe next season

You’ll pay us some more

We’ll handball it, miss penalties

We’ll score own goals, when you want it

Taking bribes and falling over

You can’t trust us any more

So this is football, such an epic fail

Instead of Old Trafford, we’ll be going to jail



If you think things are bad now, just wait and see who they have lined up to replace Santa...

He doesn’t care if you pout

He doesn’t care if you cry

You better watch out

I’m telling you why

IDS is coming to town

He doesn’t care about truth

Or being out of touch

He doesn’t care what you get

He just knows it’s too much

IDS is coming to town

Whether you’re poor or disabled

He doesn’t really care

He sees into your bedrooms

And he knows which ones are spare

He’ll come up with a ruse

He’ll come up with a trap

So you don’t get ahead

Just a benefit cap

IDS is coming to town

You better not claim

You better not try

Just be a good slacker

Hurry up and die

IDS is coming to town…

Last, and by all means least, as her career hits hard times Nigella Lawson is booked as Eartha Kitt on Celebrity Stars In Their Eyes...

Santa baby, slip a kilo under the tree, for me

My head’s been in a whirl. 

Santa baby, won’t you be my dealer tonight

Santa baby, just a few ounces of dope, I hope

Got some brownies ready to go

Santa baby, get me off my boobies on blow

                       

Think of all the hands I’ve had around my throat

Think of all the times I’ve slept with that old goat

The chance of getting out my tree

Is all that’s keeping me afloat

Santa cutie, just a little LSD you see

If I endorse it will it be free?

Santa baby, want to see the dancing hippos tonight

Santa honey, give my finances a hand

I’ve lost 600 grand

Santa baby, get me another book deal, alright?

Santa baby, hurry down my chimney tonight…