Category: Brexit

The Devil himself was said to be “livid” and “beside himself with rage” today after hearing that leading proponents of Brexit will be coming to stay for all eternity.

”That guy who made the toothbrush moustache infamous isn’t too chuffed either,” our supernatural affairs correspondent says, “he’s going to have to share his room forever with the likes of Nigel Farage and Dan Hannan. Still, what are the odds of two guys with one ball each become room mates forever? Pretty long I’d say!”

It seems the addition of the Brexiters to Hell isn’t exactly a surprise, but something the Devil hadn’t considered when he signed his WA from Paradise with God.

”The Devil was in the detail,” our correspondent says, “or he wasn’t in the detail. He doesn’t really do it. This tends to store up problems for the future that should really have been foreseen before signing the contract. But having to put up with Boris Johnson and Rees-mogg forever? It’s enough to make you shiver, in spite of the insufferable heat.”

Responding to the news, delivered earlier today at a press conference by Donald Tusk, the Devil is believed to be seeking a renegotiation of his treaty with God.

”He wants the agreement reopened and the inclusion of a time limit, or a legal trigger that allows him to terminate Hell at a time of his choosing.”

God is believed to be willing to talk about changing the agreement regarding Hell, but only if the Devil can actually come up with an alternative solution that serves exactly the same purpose of roasting Brexiters for their sins forever.

”It’s not going to happen, if eternity has a time limit, then it’s not really eternity now, is it.”

Eternity means eternity.

LCD Views can report today of fears that hundreds of Westminster MPs have been caught up in a drug use scandal!

“There are genuine and real fears our democracy is being pawned off to the lowest of the lowest bidders as out of control MPs desperately try and pay for their worsening junk habits,” our political junky correspdoent says,

“once an MP starts using Brexit there is often little hope of them turning their life back around. You can forget expert help. A fear of experts goes with the useage. And like all heavy users don’t even bother trying to get them to face day to day reality.”

It’s believed the path to Brexit use often starts differently, depending on the initial political affiliation of the at risk user, but they all end in the political gutter.

”You know a heavy user. They’re obvious. They call for tighter controls on migrant labour, that we’re losing our national identity, which is the percolation of a country built by a vast array of influences globally over millennia, and that we need to be able to universally terminate the only legal guarantee that Brexit use won’t lead to a return of sectarian violence in Northern Ireland.”

It’s believed for Conservative Party junkies it’s a process of increasing dosage which leads to a perpetual mania.

”You know what it’s like. First you get a buzz making the man on the street pay for the mistakes of your mates in casino finance,

”You get a kick out of passing laws that stigmatise the most vulnerable,

”A little bit of NHS privatisation gets your rocks off. But then you get jaded and you want something harder,

“That’s when the pusher, identified by Westminster sources as Fagashface appears, offering you a bit of full blown xenophobic, toxified nationalistic, neoliberal, rights and tax rate smashing powder, or Brexit as it’s called on the street.”

But what about Labour MPs? Enough of them are now addicted to Brexit too, regardless of what it’s doing to people’s livelihoods and the risk to cooperation and peace across Europe.

”They’re a weird mob. Mostly stuck in a 70’s timewarp. Brexit use is nostalgic for them too. Maybe we can still have the Revolution comrade, if we can just turn back the clocks? Maybe Lexit, a twin substance to Brexit, can do just that? But once they’re hooked they’re done for too.”

How do you know if a Labour MP is a user?

”Jobs first Brexit, that’s the giveaway, each and every time.”

LCD Views urges our elected representatives to get a grip and get clean before they sell the shirts off our backs to pay for their habits. Remember, if you are considering recreational use of Brexit, there is no safe dosage and the needle is never clean.

The UK is set to crash and burn. It is leaving the EU asap without a safety net. WTO rules have been proposed, even though this would leave the UK on a footing with the most bendy banana-y of banana republics. The only answer is to trade on WTF rules.

So what are WTF rules, and how do they work?

Trade expert Selma Wrights gave LCD Views the inside track.

“It’s simple,” said Wrights. “Every time a politician or commentator makes a statement, simply reply ‘WTF!’. Technological solution? WTF! Alternative arrangements? WTF! Jobs first? WTF!”

It would work in parliament too, says Wrights. My honourable friend… WTF! Let me be entirely clear… WTF! We will deliver on the result of the referendum… WTF! WTF! WTF!

You get the picture.

Unfortunately, the UK is in this situation because of a schoolboy prank gone horribly wrong. Imagine being a very posh fly on the wall of the Lower Fourth common room at Eton. Michael Gove is listening intently to Alex “Call me Boris” Johnson…

“I’ve got another wizard wheeze, Pob!”

“Yippee! What is it this time, Alex?”

“Boris. It’s Boris.”

“Sorry, Alex. I mean, sorry, Boris. What’s the plan?”

“We insist that the Lower Fourth breaks away and sets its own fees and selects its own boys and hires its own masters!”

“Nobody would take it seriously.”

“Cameron would! The nancy boy Greek master who lives in a shed.”

“So, what will we do?”

“Keep him talking nonsense all lesson so he doesn’t start droning on about Virgil again. Squiffy, Bumfluff and Pongo will help out as usual.”

“Then what?”

“Get reported I expect, then six of the best from the headmaster, followed by getting pissed on Squiffy’s vodka and a wank-off in the dorm.”

“The usual, then.”

“The usual.”

Unfortunately for the protagonists, Cameron bought it, put it to the vote and lost, then scarpered. WTF!

LCD Views is at pains to point out that other Brexits are available. WHO rules has already been discussed on this page. Animal lovers (and, oddly enough, wrestlers) are keen on a WWF Brexit, and Tony Blair advocates WMD. WTF?!

A new law comes into force today to stop people getting sticks and scraping out dog mess from the treads on their children’s trainers, nicknamed the ‘Wear it with pride!’ law.

”The New law forces people who unwittingly step in dog poo to respect the result,” any Brexit backing MP told LCD Views,

“it doesn’t matter that the walk to the park was pitched as an enlivening experience in the sunlit outdoors, with a clear path along the pavement to a meadow like field,

“And the path is pretty much paved in dog mess, so thick with it it’s impossible to step in-between piles, and when you get to the park it’s a burning chasm that appears to be a gateway to hell with only a collection of Nigel Farage’s at the bottom of it,

“You must respect the result of the dog mess you tread in to get to the burning mouth of damnation.”

But what was wrong with the time honoured method of dealing with such calamities of stopping, finding a way to clean it up, and then ignoring the smell long enough for it to dissipate?

“The way we did things before disrespected the feelings of people who either weren’t paying attention sufficiently to clean up after their pooch as they soiled the community, or in some cases, were petty and mean spirited enough not to care. Why shouldn’t it be someone else’s problem to clean up quite some time after you’ve walked away with your dog?”

This doesn’t sound like a good foundation for a big society.

“Oh, this is exactly what the big society was intended to be.”

Father Andrew was staring out of the window of the Brexit Island parochial house. He played idly with some toy animals on the sill.

“These sacred cows are small,” said Father Rupert patiently. He pointed out of the window. “But those are far away.” Father Andrew looked from one to the other, uncomprehendingly.

The phone rang. “Brexit Island parochial house!” said Father Rupert brightly. “Yes, yes, of course you can… No, of course it won’t be like last time… I told you, that money was just resting in my account… Yes, Father, we’ll see you soon!”

He replaced the receiver. “That was Father Michel from the mainland,” he announced. *Coming to pay us a little visit. Wants us to work with those eejits over there. But we don’t want them butting in, do we Fathers? Now, Father Andrew, you know what we want. And whatever you do, make sure Father Boris doesn’t wake up!”

“Drink! Girls! Feck! Business!” shouted Father Boris.

“Now I’m off to write ‘Down with this sort of thing’ on the front page of all my newspapers,” concluded Father Rupert. “Don’t agree to anything Father Michel says! Oh, hello Father Michel! Do sit down!”

Mrs May tottered in, and curtseyed like an arthritic giraffe. “Will you have a nice fresh Brexit negotiation?” she asked Father Michel. “Go on, go on, go on, go on, go on…”

“No, thank you,” he replied.

“Go on, go on, go on, go on, go on!”

“Maybe just a little one…”

“No! It’s clear you don’t want one!” said Mrs May, turning away. “If you want to be intransigent, that’s ok with me.”

She returned to the kitchen, only to come back immediately.

“Will you have a nice cup of tea instead, then, Father?” asked Mrs May. “It’s Backstop Blend. Go on, go on, go on, go on, go on…”

“It looks a bit muddy…”

“It was ground yesterday!” exclaimed Mrs May, wounded. “I’m going to have to go to the kitchen and shoot myself now! Look what you’ve made me do!”

She left, and the sound of gunshot rang through the house.

Next week: Dominic Grieve and Yvette Cooper star in Kicking Bishop Brexit Up The Arse.

It seems now that now nearly all cabinet ministers in the current government have lined up lucrative non-exec board positions for the moment they quit politics after Brexit, one of the key characters in the UK’s political psycho-drama has a different plan up her sleeve.

LCD Views has the exclusive scoop on the unverified rumour that principal antagonist in the Brexit farce, prime minister Theresa May, has a plan to take her skills into the world of acting.

“She acted the part of a remainer with total conviction and believability in 2016,” casting agent Paul Hollywood told us over cake, “and then she was able to completely flip her motivations to play the role of a leaver with the conviction of the genuinely insane. She can take on her role as a reclusive and deranged political agent in ‘The Brex Files’ with ease.”

Key to the drama on the screen will be Agent Mayhem’s twin search.

”Her colleagues call her ‘Maybot’, because she’s actually an android struggling to become human, and failing. But her other obsession in the series is the search for a technological solution to the Irish Border, to replace the backstop agreed with the EU. Something only extraterrestrials currently have the capacity to produce.”

Other key players from recent British political history will also feature in the cast.

”Nigel Farage has been cast as a shadowy, chain smoking, trench coat wearing pain in the ass called ‘Fagash Throat’. He appears now and then to offer absolute bollocks as advice.”

Boris Johnson is rumoured to also have a part in the pilot episode?

”That’s right. He plays the role of a maniacal government man who ruins the entire civil framework and economy of a country attempting to build a bridge from SW1 to Riyadh. But agent Mayhem thinks he has a secret that can help her solve the border problem, so she pretty much let’s him do whatever ruinous crap he wants until he finally gives up and goes away.”

That one is straight art imitating life.

”Oh, I wouldn’t expect much art.”

What should we expect then?

”A lot of loose bowels and no answers.”

‘The Brex Files’ premieres at 10pm on the 29th March 2019 on all streaming services located near to a toilet.

Grab your popcorn and settle in, but you may also like to stockpile some medicines too.

LCD Views can wearily inform today that the European Union has set up a recorded message to respond to daily nuisance calls from a British woman.

The woman in question is believed to live in a taxpayer funded, local government property in central London. One of the last of its kind thanks to the ideology of sensible inner London social cleansing promoted by the caring Conservatives when they resumed their reign of terror over the land in 2010.

“She thinks she’s British prime minister,” a caller claiming to be Donald Tusk told us, speaking freely this morning, “which is frankly alarming. We know the woman in that symbolic position is just a front for an international clique of disaster capitalists. And her daily phone calls? I believe she needs help. This obsessive behaviour is not normal.”

But why does she call each and every day?

“Well first she claimed to be a disgruntled customer of the EU. Apparently she wasn’t aware when she purchased her membership of the continental wide club that she would be getting freedom of movement, reciprocal health care, strengthening data protection laws, gender and race equality initiatives, a focus on environmental protections and investment in the poorest areas of her country, neglected by central government.”

It sounds like she should have read the fine print.

“Yes. The part about her membership that she was particularly disgruntled by was the reciprocal nature of it all. She had to give the same things back to foreigners.”

A bitter pill to swallow.

“If you’re a xenophobic, small minded little Englander mentally marooned in a misremembered past, it certainly is.”

So she’s calling to demand a refund?

“Membership is only a few pence a day. Not even sofa change. We’ve told her she won’t be getting a refund, but she’s welcome to leave the club. It’s her choice. She has personal sovereignty, even if she doesn’t want other people to have it.”

So why does she keep calling?

“She didn’t read the fine print on the cancellation form.”

Oh no. Here we go again. What’s upset her with that?

“Measures taken to attempt to prevent a return to paramilitary violence on an island a few miles to the west of where she lives. It makes you wonder what goes on in her head and the heads of the people around her.”

It sure does. So what are you going to do about the nuisance calls?

“We’ve set up a recorded message to answer her now.”

In several languages?

“No. Only in English. Bugger all point of recording it in any other when no one else would be stupid enough to call this particular negotiating hotline.”

LCD Views can report on a long running medical mystery that has the U.K.’s best doctors stumped.

”We can’t work out if patient is in coma or should be placed in one?” Doctor Doctor, consulting neuro-recto-cranio-ologist at Girls Hospital (twin to Guys), Westminster admits,

“we’ve run so many tests. CRG’s, MOT’s, BBC’s (that was especially useless), MRI’s (frightening, but not illuminating), EEG’s and old fashioned hit you with x-rays X-rays and we’re none the wiser.”

The frank admission comes not from anyone called frank, but the medics overseeing the case.

”The symptoms are worsening by the hour. The monitor that beeps steadily in healthy, functioning representative democracies is now just a solid beeeeeeeep. The blood tests are showing yellow vests attacking the white blood cells, normally a sign of Bannonitis. It appears the patient is in a self induced coma already. And that’s the problem.”

Because you can’t put someone into a coma who’s put themselves willingly into one?

”Quite. Double down on a coma with a coma and you’re likely to end up with a fascist state dismantling itself from within at a speed that would do Ebola proud. With just as many messy bodily fluids being sprayed all over.”

So what will you do now?

”We’re running a new battery of tests tomorrow. Cooper test. Grieve probe. We’ll see what the results of those are and decide where to go with treatment after that.”

What if they return negative or inconclusive results too?

”Then I’m buying several large bags of rice, some spam, dried fruit, several cases of Boudreaux and legging it to a barn in the Scottish highlands. And I’d recommend you do that too.”

LCD Views can report on a scoop from the tabloid dinosaur world today with the revelation that the Daily Mail is to move to France in preparation for Brexit.

”They spy the lucrative commercial opportunity of whipping Eurosceptic French citizens into a lather over a wave of English economic migrants,” our tabloid specialist reports, “there’s gutters to rake in France and they’re off to rake, dredge and snipe from them.”

It’s believed the editorial policy will be classic Dacre, with little of the recent burst of, well, occasionally not quite insane, once or twice. but mostly still mental trash, line taken in England in the post Paul era.

”They’re going to promote anti-vax theories heavily, to build on their work in this field in England in the early 2010’s. They’ll compare every warning on anything to the unnecessary fuss about the Millennium Bug, they’ll run a campaign to get the Chunnel turned into a mushroom farm too, but otherwise it’ll be wall to wall outrage over British economic migrants coming to steal French jobs from French taxpayers.”

They could go hard over health tourism of benefit scrounging English too!

”Oh, they’ll be plenty of that. Alongside pointing out that once the failing EU superstate is defeated by the international conspiracy of Russian kleptomaniacs and sociopathic, feudalist US billionaires, how much freer everyone will be.”

Free to warm their hands around bins on fire in the street? While looking at the murals of Theresa May on every street?

”Shhh. You’ll ruin the surprise.”

So. I presume they’ll be launching a French language version of their news website too?

”They already have! It focuses daily on how the English saved the French all on our own in WW2. It doesn’t report on anything else.”

And how much will the French Daily Mail cost?

”Just thirty pieces of silver, each and every day. Exactly the same as the English version.”

The UK is approaching a crisis. Deal or no deal – or no Brexit at all. May’s deal is dead in the water, and no deal is unpalatable to all but the headbangers. No Brexit is unacceptable to the screaming troublemakers who must be appeased no matter what. So what is to happen, and who is to be betrayed?

For betrayal it is. No Brexit betrays the mythical 52% of the country who voted Leave. May’s deal betrays the equally mythical 48% wishing to Remain. And no deal betrays us all and tosses the UK to the vultures.

In such volatile times, one turns naturally to social media. Here, all schools of thought engage in restating their position dogmatically, while bots spew ungrammatical bile whenever anybody types Remain or EU or People’s Vote. Or healthy debate, as it is commonly known.

In this Bot’s Brexit, the weakness of an argument is determined by the volume of bots deployed to support it. This relationship is commonly called Zuckerberg’s Law.

So, which of our representatives will stand up and make a decision? The language of Brexit has painted almost everyone into a corner. Nobody dares not to respect the overwhelmingly narrow margin of victory upon which this farce has been built.

For this is what it boils down to. One referendum, one corrupt campaign. One wilful misinterpretation of the outcome. The opportunity to debate the issue was lost in the craven desire to forfeit decision making to those least informed – The People. The People voted, and The People spoke. And The People said, well, we don’t know.

As politics focussed upon this one issue, and became massively bogged down in the realities of Brexit, the Language of Brexit has been ramped up. We no longer have two factions who disagree, instead we have two raging mobs who threaten devastation and human sacrifice if they don’t get their way.

And so the UK heads, like a lamb to the slaughter, to the crisis of 29 March 2019. Will it all end in tears?