Category: Democracy

LCD Views can report the made up story that Westminster MPs are being put through almost constant fire safety drills this week as the temperature inside the Palace of Westminster rises.

“The risk of a gammon MP spontaneously combusting is now extreme to critical,” a House of Commons fire safety warden told us, “it’s problematic personally.”

Why is that?

“I have to wear a hi-viz vest whenever we have a drill,” the aide replied, “I keep getting rugby tackled by security staff who think I’m a bloody rent-a-gob, pay for view, pavement neo-nazi who somehow got inside the building! Why couldn’t they pick on a type of hat? Why take a vest used in so many fields in day to day work? Or just wear a pineapple slice on their head!”

Pineapple goes well with ham, especially on pizza.

“Lord almighty! Don’t bring Hawaiian pizza’s into it. That’s almost as divisive as Brexit.”

So how are the safety drills going?

“Poorly. The gammon MPs don’t listen to anyone but themselves. The bell rings and there’s no reaction. Francois, Bridgen, Jenkyns or another of the clueless porcine hand puppets just keeps grunting away in barely comprehensible assertions while rolling around in salt. We have to lure them out with truffles. And truffles aren’t cheap. On the plus side, the other MPs leap at the chance to get out of the chamber.”

But do you expect one of them to actually explode? Are the drills worth it? There’s a lot of important not deciding anything going on.

“Most of them are cooking slowly in their juices, it’s true,” the warden shrugged, “but sooner or later one of the men is going to explode and it’ll be chunks of gammon all over the walls and floor.”

Probably even the ceiling.

“If another Cooper/Letwin bill gets passed by one vote, like last night, I doubt there will be a ceiling afterwards. At least not on the level of pig ignorant rage you’ll get from the Brexiter MPs, who never bother to understand anything.”

Maybe just wrap them in a fire blanket first?

“Pigs in blankets? Now there’s a thought. Not only are they tasty, but that way you can contain any explosions.”

LCD Views can report today that the big prime ministerial eraser is being brought out of storage once again as the deadline for participating in EU elections looms.

“It tastes of fudge it does,” an aide to the PM told us, “the eraser, big bloody thing, can you give us a help lifting it. Don’t lick it. You get a taste of the fudge flavour and you’ll find yourself having another taste. It’s political cocaine. It’s very habit forming. Don’t try and line up the little fragments that come off when it’s used and use a rolled up twenty to snort them either. You do it once and you’ll never stop. DO NOT LICK THE RUBBER. OMG.”

Sorry.

But why is it ever tucked away in the first place? It gets used so often you think it’d be kept in a 10 Downing Street desk drawer.

“Beats me. I just work here,” the aide informed, “All I know is that we have to get out of the EU before they hold elections. The tyrannical superstate will force us to have a vote! So their elected parliament isn’t at risk of being illegally constituted. How undemocratic is that? People voting? Having a say in the future of the massive bloc of half a billion people? That will, through sheer force of gravity alone, determine our trajectory if we leave it? We can’t have that,

“The people of the UK have already spoken, years ago, when everything was different to now and they knew a lot less. But once is quite enough. In Global Britain the citizens do not vote. Let people keep voting and it could become habit forming.”

But we don’t have to take part in the EU elections even if we legislate by the 12th of April to do so. Apparently May can just cancel our participation up to 24 hours before. So she can both erase another of her red lines and still have a handful of fudge to throw to her party. Cynical. Duplicitous. But possible.

“Here, you said you were a reporter?”

I am. Fictional. But yes.

“Talking like that you sound like a Downing Street advisor.”

“The MP for Red Cloud and Fingerling is not just any parliamentary potato,” the legend underneath the planned statue of Mark Francois will read, “he’s a hard boiled, mashed, salted and buttered parliamentary potato. And furthermore, in a first for GM vegetables, he can talk!”

And not only that, he’s to be the first of many ERG statues planned for College Green, as the United Kingdom moves to celebrate the quality of MPs currently dominating the debate over Brexit.

“Potatriots one and all,” the parliamentary select committee dealing in monuments found, “and we aim to celebrate them with root vegetable, and cured meat, lifelike statues in the vicinity of Westminster.”

But controversy has already beset the celebration of modern British democratic virtues, as critics (aren’t there always critics!) have been quick to point out that the statue of Mr Francois will be too large.

“We are aware that the steering committee concerned rejected the first proposal of a Tom Thumb sized Francois, for exaggerating the MPs stature at 1.02m, when everyone knows that he’s the smallest man in the Commons, busily battling it out with Bridgen, Kawczynski, Cash, Deadwood and numerous others to get the little mantle,” a statue critic said, “but even at standard potato size the statue will give a disproportionate impression of the MPs’ contributions. We suggest baby new potato size, or maybe even just one of the little white and pink sprouty things that come off a potato left in a pantry for too long.”

Other issues have been raised with the colour of the statue, for being standard pale, when in fact the MP is bright red the majority of the time. As such, a variety of potato such as Red Cloud would be more suitable.

“At least everyone can agree that motion activated speakers, intended to broadcast (in shouts) the MPs’ famous speeches whenever anyone comes near, are a lovely addition. In this way future generations can get a real idea of how everything just went so completely wrong in Brexit Britain.”

There are plenty of red faces at the House of Commons this afternoon, and not just the usual angry gammony ones like Francois and Bridgen.

“Downing Street pulled a blinder on MPs,” our Westminster insider reveals, “early this morning they sent out an email to all MPs giving their total support to the indicative vote process.”

Yeah right!

“But not only that, they promised to listen to outcome of the indicative votes. And even went so far as to say they’d be guided by the most popular. Parliament has decided and the executive will be bound by parliament.”

Pull the other one! The representatives of the voters getting a say in the most important decision for decades? You’re having a laugh.

”It was plainly a ridiculous statement, coming from May’s office. But so many MPs are desperate to feel involved, having squandered ever other chance to be, that they feel for it hook, line and sinker. And others are just plain thick. As they display amply day in and out when spouting nonsense on BBC platforms and going unchallenged.”

That’s because a lot of the journalists seem more interested in the soap opera of indivuak political careers than the country’s future.

”Too right. But we’re not here to talk about Kuenssberg’s panto show this evening, but the April Fool’s prank.”

I saw the advert for the Laura me me me show and thought it was a BBC prank, actually.

”Let’s hope it is!”

So how are MPs taking the news they’ve been had?

”With a shrug. They’ve been played for fools day in and day out for a few years now, most of them are used to it.”

“I must advise the honourable, and the dishonourable, members of this house that if they ever wish to see their families again they will pass my Deal this evening,” a clearly furious Theresa May told the HoC this afternoon after her dodgy deal failed to pass third time lucky.

”This Government will now move to bring MV4 on MY DEAL by 6pm this evening and I advise you to vote for it.”

The reason for the delay was not initially clear, why not just do it again right now?

”They had to lock BERCOW in a cupboard and put a Bercow mask on Dominic Raab,” our Palace of Westminster insider texted out, “and it was thought it was going to take a few hours to locate and kidnap enough members of opposition bench families to hold as security for good behaviour.”

Another reason for a few hours pause was believed to be Ms May personally taking a chainsaw to the magic money tree and chopping the last of it to the ground.

”A bigger cash incentive will be needed to swing around the zealots in the ERG and the zealots in the DUP, but she’s their measure now. She’ll get her deal through by this evening at the fourth attempt and then she can switch back to blackmail. Much less grubby than bribery.”

Quite what will happen if May’s deal doesn’t pass at the fourth attempt is not yet clear, as always with Brexit.

”What the government really fears is a long Article 50 extension,” our insider says, “that’ll mean a terrifying outbreak of democracy. EP elections, then a GE and finally the PV. And no one wants to vote again. We already had a vote, once, years ago.”

One day resigning Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, Theresa Maybe, has dug into the annals of rock history this week in an attempt to get others to help her finish the job she was put up to do.

“She’s recorded a cover of the AC/DC classic ‘Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap’ and everyone in the House of Commons has found it downloaded onto their phones whether they wanted it there or not,” our Westminster headbanger informs, “it’s done in a bid to use the rumble and beat of rock to roll MPs over to her side. Oh, and a neat way to offer an ‘incentive’ to that end.”

The lyrics have been modified from the original to target wavering Labour MPs especially.

“She knows that to get her deal though the House of Commons on the third bash, after amputating it, mincing it, mashing it, washing it and hanging it out to dry, in order to get passed the rules (what are rules to a Brexiter but an unnecessary hindrance?) she’s going to need Labour MPs who should have joined UKIP to come over to her side and hang out with the Tory MPs who have turned the Tories into UKIP,

“But how to convince them? Maybe a little cash incentive? But how to pitch it? Why not with song?”

If you’re havin’ trouble with your constituents
They’re givin’ you the blues
You want to stay in office but not in in power
Here’s what you gotta do
Pick up the phone
I’m always home
Call me any time
Just ring
10 10 10 Downing Street
I hack apart the magic money tree all the time

“Some critics have suggested the reworking of the lyrics wasn’t necessary, but I think it makes the appeal more direct,” our headbanger says, “after all, whatever (most likely) false promise of cash May will offer, it’s not a patch on what the MPs’ areas will lose as a result of Brexit. So if you want them to dance to your tune, you’ve got to give them a song to sing to.”

Here at LCD Views we applaud the Prime Minister for not being bound by the staid traditions of the past like a sound and coherent argument for gaining support, while backroom deals are done in secret, but being very open. It shows the voting public just who is doing the dirty deeds, and doing them cheap. Ultimately you’re the ones paying the price, so that makes it a lot easier for some MPs to tap their foot along.

By way of light relief we’ve added a link to a shocking reworking of the AC/DC classic below, discovered by accident during the exhaustive research for this article.

Who’s song will you sing next time you vote? Well, if there’s a next time, given the aims of Brexit.

https://genius.com/Bob-rivers-dirty-deeds-done-with-sheep-lyrics

Great news for people searching for new blood in the scabby world of Westminster politics with the announcement by Don’t Know that it’s to form a political party and stand in all constituencies in the next general election.

“Ferocious bit of timing,” LCD Views’ Mr Pole Star commented, “I’m full of admiration. A few years ago Don’t Know was the least popular of all the candidates when set against either the sitting prime minister or opposition leaders. But now. Wacko! Frightening bit of calculation.”

Who will stand with Don’t Know is not yet certain.

“That makes sense, given the name,” Mr Pole Star guided, “but one thing is certain, constructive ambiguity only gets you so far. So too attempting to pass the entire economy out the back of Downing Street and into the hands of dark money interests.”

Labour have already ruled out an electoral pact with Don’t Know, even though a coalition could see them seize 10 Downing Street.

“You can’t have a Soviet command and control, centralised economic structure with a coalition of snowflakes,” Mr Star illuminated, “so that’s no surprise. Don’t Know is perfectly capable of governing alone anyway, as it really has the mood of much of the country when it looks to the future.”

Reports that Don’t Know will join the Conservatives, instead of forming its own party, and challenge May for the leadership in December have been dismissed as rabble rousing.

“Ignore the detractors, they’re just trying to confuse people so they can’t see the light in the window guiding them home. Unless Labour actually become an opposition party and fiercely oppose the government’s main policy platform of Brexit, which it is clear will hurt the most vulnerable the most, they’ll be breaking their own eggs from now on to make Don’t Knows’ omelette.”

Theresa May was presumed politically injured, but still alive last night, after she attempted to fall on her sword and missed.

”It was a big hearted attempt at political seppuku,” our political analyst granted, “she kneeled on the floor before the 1922 committee of senile delinquents, opened her silk robe to reveal skin that appeared scaled underneath, took her sword in her hands and paused dramatically.”

Then what?

”Wait. It was a dramatic pause.”

Waiting…waiting….

”She then offered to complete her put up job as Brexit patsy by resigning, probably, if everyone backed her deal.”

Apparently there were misty eyes in the room. To see a servant of darkness so close to fulfilling her half of the Faustian pact that made her prime minister.

”She then attempted to stab herself in the heart and failed.”

Did she at least pierce her skin?

”Oh, she went clean through and out the other side. Penetration wasn’t the issue. The inability to locate the shrivelled up prune that serves as her hostile environment, food bank breeding ‘Go Home’ van heart was.”

So what happened next?

”More tears. Big sobs actually from Boris. He thought he was about to be proclaimed leader, even as the political blood was slopped off the floor, but in the end of course he, and Rees-mogg ended up just tripping over in it and injuring themselves too.”

But what happened to Theresa May?

”She stood up and announced grandly she was going to fall on her sword instead,” our analyst informs, “the blood offering would be made. But of course as soon as she made to leap to fall on the point Arlene Foster gave her a shove and she just faceplanted into the floor.”

A right Brexit facepalm moment.

Relief at last Britons! Parliament has found a way forward towards solving the impasse of Brexit.

“We’ve probably given the executive long enough to play with the lives of nearly 70m people I suppose?” Oliver Lets-win (MP) told LCD Views,

“personally I would have voted tribally because that’s how we do things here, but part of our tribe, the BORG, wouldn’t vote with our tribe, even though our tribe where offering them what they wanted. Even though members of the other tribe were prepared to vote with us to give our tribe what it wanted,

[this sounds contorted]

“This was weird. The BORG had two shots at it. We’re not sure why they didn’t take any Brexit, given they can’t be trusted to stick to any agreement made anyway?

[what’s your theory why they didn’t?]

“Maybe the moneymen behind them were demanding an even bigger disaster? Or maybe they actually read the impact reports on any Brexit, shat themselves and decided not having Brexit, and screaming betrayal as a cover, was the better way forward?

“At any rate, we’re going to solve it all now with Twister.”

The game will apparently be played this Wednesday and will use the four player rules of the classic 70’s game, used to kick off swingers parties.

“Bercow will be the referee of course. He’s going to spin the wheel and see where the needle lands and then direct us to contort ourselves for everyone’s entertainment. One team will be Brexit and one team will be Revoke. Whichever one is the last one standing gets to keep the country.”

And will the prime minister be taking part?

“No. She’s going to stay home and carry on planking.”

Liars, damned liars and Chris Grayling, as the saying goes. The man who has turned failure into an art form has pulled off his most audacious stunt yet.

LCD Views’ 80s Style Demo correspondent bumped into the man himself, at the People’s Vote march, almost as if it had been planned.

“I must say, this is a brilliant turnout for a Brexit march,” remarked Grayling, amid a sea of placards demanding that we revoke Article 50. “The news said Nige’s march only had a handful of people. Well, it shows you how biased the media are!”

We believe that Farage’s Big Pointless Waddle is actually stuck in the mud somewhere in Yorkshire at the minute.

“March means march!” exclaimed Grayling, displaying the confidence that has made him such an accomplished failure. “March is the month for marching. See what I did there? Anyway, I’m sure Nige will roll up any minute now, and lead us to glorious, err, something or other.”

We approached the stage, by some kind of miracle. The crowds parted, nobody wanting to touch the hem of Grayling’s robe. He was drawn, irresistibly, to the sight of a microphone, and somehow managed to stagger up in front of it. The crowd jeered in anticipation.

“Cheering, not jeering!” he chuckled, off-mic. “I feel the need to speak. What shall I say?”

We passed him a draft of the gibberish we had, sadly, prepared for the booze-up that evening.

“Friends, Romans, cun…. Hang on, that’s not right, is it?” he began.

We assured him that he was doing just fine.

“Yes, well, anyway, it is great to see you bunch of sarcastic tossers,” he continued. “This is a great triumph of disorganised chaos, dreamed up by a bunch of drunken idiots. Just like Brexit!”

Massive cheers. “It’s going really well, isn’t it?” he whispered as an aside.

“Today we have proved that alcohol and being incredibly funny go together like Chris Grayling and spaffing money up the wall!”

Gales of laughter. Grayling beamed, his reputation cemented forever.

“So thank you for bothering to get off your arses, and the first round is on me!”

Mayhem. Scenes. Delight.

The government is expecting to pick up a bar tab that is second only to David Davis’s.