Category: Global Britain

MAKE BRITAIN GRATE AGAIN : Boris Johnson is to take the fight to the heart of the EU today when he visits Angela Merkel in Germany to demand things he knows she can’t concede.

“He’s going to garble some German and grin like he’s had a lobotomy, but retained the ability to speak incoherently all the same in Eton.” an aide, travelling with the last PM of Britannia, told LCD Views.

“He’s also going to mention the war. But only once, as that’s as much as we think he can get away with.”

But after the initial pleasantries events are expected to take a dramatic turn as Boris the showman comes forth to startle his buttoned up hosts.

“They’ll be doing a walk about of a BMW showroom for the press,” the aide reveals, “and that’s when Boris will let loose with a tree branch to show he’s serious about devastating Britain with a No Deal Brexit.”

While the performance will certainly do much to underscore the evaluation of British sanity held by the leaders of the EU27, it has already caused a ripple of scandal at home.

“He’s sourced the big stick from the Black Forest,” the aide reveals, “that’s because he wants it to be a surprise. He can’t just travel on the Eurostar with a tree branch and expect to shock the Germans. That would be insane!”

It’s thought the beating of the BMW with the tree branch will serve as a warning to the German automakers too.

“They’re taking their own sweet time before saving us from Brexit,” the aide frowned, “but after they see Boris walking loudly and carrying a big stick, they’ll know exactly what they have to do about the future of their investments in Blighty.”

PROJECT ASSET STRIPPER : Can assets strip? What do they wear underneath? Is it silky and sheer? Does it cover the rear? Are British assets outwardly prim and repressed, but behind closed doors kinky and rapacious? All these questions and more will be answered after Brexit.

“It’s going to be wonderful. So great. So so big. Really just the biggest. I can smell the fire sale smoke from here, all the way across the Atlantic,” US Senator Mr Durti Deeds III spoke to LCD Views earlier, giving his vision for post Brexit relations across the pond, “it’s already smouldering. All that US money hasn’t been injected into UK politics via ‘think tanks’ and pretend media outlets for nothing.”

Good to know! There’s a plan for us after all.

“I’ll just snuggle you down in my portfolio and wait for your asset value to rise again, after clearing out the deadwood, before selling you on to the Chinese for a profit.”

Reassuring news indeed, with fears the UK will be vulnerable and all alone after Brexit.

“The special relationship is gonna get real special. Especially once the market is allowed to do its Godly work of sorting out all those regulations and all that red tape.”

The words from the senator contrasted with others who were saying there’s not going to be a trade deal if the UK government doesn’t protect peace in NI.

“There won’t be a Northern Ireland after Brexit,” our man shrugged, “there will be an Ireland. It’s plain as day. So this is all virtue signalling to distract from the real business to be done.”

Project Firesale. That’s Brexit. That’s always being Brexit. Take back control of what we never lost control of to lose control of it complete.

What with the continued threat of Scottish independence if Brexit goes ahead, their departure from the UK would mean the Union Jack having to be redesigned. Suggestions have been flooding in, and it would seem that a favourite has already emerged based on the number of entries.

The current preferred choice for the new Union Jack is Edvard Munch’s famous painting The Scream.

If this came to pass, it would make the UK only the second country in the world to have a flag with people on it, the first being Belize.

The famous image was first suggested by one Dee Zeiner, 28, who deigned to be interviewed for this.
“The whole UK is going to be screaming anyway if Brexit happens,” she explained, “so we might as well have a flag that depicts this.”

She has even given the design a name. If her design wins, the new national banner will be known as Flaggy McFlagface. In the current climate, it’s not even sure if the name is a joke or not.

It has been suggested, however, that the picture isn’t of somebody screaming but of someone hearing a scream, as the subjects hands are at his ears.

“Well, if the image isn’t a scream, it could just as easily be interpreted as someone putting their hands over their ears and making a noise to drown out what they’re hearing, which is the Brexiters position in a nutshell.”

Predictably Boris Johnson, who is unbelievably now Prime Minister of the once-great-but-now-coming-apart-at-the-seams UK, scoffed at the thought.

“Brexit won’t change our good old Union Jack, and nor will Scottish independence. We’ll still have the good old red, white and blue to wave at all those foreigners who were stupid enough to be born in other countries.”

And if that’s not the most Boris thing that Boris has ever said, I’d like to know what is.

Entries for the new flag competition must arrive by the end of September. The winner will be announced post-Brexit.

THIS IS BEING DONE IN YOUR NAME : The stellar achievements and tangible benefits of Brexit for the UK are too often not reported. The chance to move home due to government policy. The opportunity to revive barter in a cashless society. The ability to improve your handwriting by filling out endless customs and visa forms. Well. Today that changes.

“We’re to become the world’s foremost Fuckoffcracy,” a Home Office android told LCD Views, on the condition we did not keep the news to ourselves.

Under the bold and enterprising plan Home Office minister, Priti Patel, has decided to revive a failed negotiating tactic from failed May’s premiership.

“We’re attempting to hold millions of people to ransom in the hope of bluffing the EU into caving on peace and security on the island of Ireland,” the droid smiled, “with not a care for the psychological anguish this causes. With no thought to the reputation harm to the UK. This time we really believe we are going to win.”

And the prize is immense. It is a golden moment. To tear up the legal rights of millions of people overnight. Just like that.

“Not since the 1930’s has a developed country had the vim and verve of Brexit Britain,” the droid sparked (one pulsating spark at the temple), “just imagine being Boris Johnson, with Priti Patel riding shotgun, and looking twenty seven countries that called us friend in the face and saying, at the stroke of a clock millions of your citizens will have many of the most vital rights ripped from their hands. That takes some nerve.”

Brexit Britain. The world’s most prominent Fuckoffcracy. And it’s being done right now and in your name.

“If we can treat the lives of foreign born citizens with such contempt,” the droid finished, “just wait till you see what we’ll do to you after you’ve allowed us to take away your freedom of movement.”

TURKISH DELIGHT : The future of British Steel looks secure today after the pension fund of the Turkish military successfully bid to buy the traditional British industry out of insolvency. This follows the completely surprising disinterest in doing so by the Conservative ‘Thatcher reboot’ currently lodged in 10 Downing Street.

“It just shows how easy a free trade deal with Turkey will be,” a David Davis impersonator commented on Twitter, “I mean, they already own British steel and that’s a key industry. What will they shop for next?”

But proper potatriotic, British, Brexit backing asset strippers poured scorn on the Turkish government for the ridiculous timing of their salvation of 5,000 British jobs.

“Amateurs,” Lord Pog of Pogness scoffed, “if they’d waited until the 1st of November then they would have gotten this bastion of British manufacturing a hell of a lot cheaper. Why shell out now? The pound will be at parity with the Turkish lira by November. Amateurs. Don’t they understand what a No Deal Brexit means? A firesafe of British assets. It amazes me really. These foreigners and how little they seem to know about traditional British disaster capitalism.”

And Pog wasn’t the only Brexiter getting into the act. It’s rumoured that Tim Martin is to release a special series of beer soaked infomercials, or beermats, to praise the success of British industry in the Brexit reality.

“A FTA with Turkey will be the easiest in history!” The mats will proclaim, “After all, they already got British Steel for a steal!”

It’s completely puzzling that the British government couldn’t find a spare billion to save a British industry. They’re so readily throwing money at the preparations for the No Deal Brexit they have little intent on seeing through, but it is good the invasion of millions of Turkish lira have saved the jobs of 5,000 people.

Brexit, with any luck, the foreigners the Brexiters insult and treat with disdain, may just ride to the rescue and save us from ourselves…

JUST NAME YOUR PRICE : The United Kingston’s elected representatives have spent a lot of time recently telling everyone how they will attract the brightest and best to the country, post Brexit.

“This has been met with huge amounts of justifiable skepticism by remainers. Actually anyone paying attention to what a devaluing currency and a hard fought reputation for xenophobia, newly acquired, can do,” our International Relations expert says, “but all those gloomsters and naysayers are missing the point.”

So the patriotic types who think Brexit will herald in a new dawn for the country are right? They’re not deluded, willingly brainwashed idiots at all?

“Well, let’s not get carried away now. Remember the editorial line chosen at the inception of this publication on Brexit.”

So they’re deluded, willingly brainwashed idiots? Confused by a changed world. Retreating into a manufactured, fictional past for comfort? Rather than face whatever issues imperfect nurturing has left, combined with an unwillingness for honest self examination about the mistakes of their adult life? So privately troubled when they stare into the bathroom mirror in the morning and wonder how it’s all gone so wrong? Who is to blame?

“Some are. Others are just racists. But you’re missing the point.”

Well, what is it?

“They are wrong because the sun never sets on the British Empire. Thus it can’t rise to herald a new dawn.”

Oh of course! But how will we attract the brightest and the best to Blighty after intentionally turning our constitutional monarchy into a banana republic run out of 55 Tufton Street?

“Some stiff sentences for electoral crimes would help.”

Noted. But the answer? The real answer?

“We’ll be paying them whatever they bloody well ask to come back.”

Ah, now it all makes sense. Long live the Magic Money tree. The Magic Money tree is dead. Long live the magic money tree.

BRITONS YOU’RE IN SAFE HANDS : “Under the ground no one can touch you,” Boris ‘Bonkers’ Johnson began his latest Facepamphlet Live broadcast to the nation today, “not Junker, not Merkel, not Macron and certainly not a food bomb.”

The prime minister, the father of all the nation’s children, young and old, spoke in a reassuringly calm manner. Firelight lit the side of his face and sparkled off his bright eyes as he brought comfort to an increasingly anxious nation.

Especially nice was the vintage 1940’s wireless set just behind his right shoulder, evoking memories of a time when Britain also faced the dark clouds alone. And although the clouds may now be gathering because of an entirely self-contrived rain dance at home, the message was the same.

We can do it!

“And let me also reassure those of you who may have come and settled in our green and pleasant and newly bunkered land, those from EU27 states, you will only be charged a nominal fee to share a space with a patriotic Briton, should the air raid sirens sound after I successfully deliver a No Deal Brexit this All Hallows’ Eve!”

One fist pump. Just one. A slow and measured raising of the hand into a securely flat palmed salute to the country.

“You will of course have to apply in advance under a new “Unsettled Embarrassed” scheme that my good colleague Priti Patel is currently organising to identify the location of every foreign traitor, I mean, husband, wife, grandparent, child and friend. Global Briton is a truly hospitalising place.”

But critics of the scheme have pointed out that encouraging patriots to hide underground when the food bombs drop will make it harder for the aid parcels to be found. You won’t know which copse or gully to look in if you didn’t see them land.

Mr Johnson is out front of that.

“We will also have a technological solution to find the widely dispersed food aid, should the EU pilots and edible materials bombardiers prove to have poor aim,” Mr Johnson added, “specially trained parrots, even now being prepared by Michael Gove, will land upon the food drops and sing so you know where they’re to be found.”

We’re in our bunker Junker! We’re going underground! Brexit, let’s make a success of it!

Who’s dumb and confused by maps : Raab is! Rumours on the news wires today that British FCO Dominic Raab was treated for shock yesterday in Canada after a geographical stun grenade went off in his mind.

“Let’s be clear,” Doctor Mounted, Register at Colombie-Britannique Royal Infirmary, said, “the cartographical explosion happened in what serves for his mind. I ran the scans myself. The casserole of nonsense inside that cranium deserves further study. It’s not what I would call classical human grey matter.”

The treatment appears to have consisted largely of sedation and being placed in front a photograph of himself smiling.

“We hadn’t quite realised until recently how effective looking at a happy picture of the self is for English Tory narcissists,” Doctor Mounted rose steeply, “but when applied to the eyes, with some Elgar playing softly in the background, with the additional tincture of Boycott talking about rhubarb, the recovery can be exceptionally speedy. The horrible psychological episode is quickly erased by a re-discovery of one’s own imagined self-importance.”

Good news.

Raab himself is rumoured (nothing in this article is real) to have told a close aide, after he regained full consciousness, signified by the throbbing vein on his right temple THROBBING, that he should have paid more for his geography GCSE, and maybe even shelled out on a history one.

How the Canadians managed to get British Columbia away from the UK while still keeping the name British involved is a mystery that the FCO is said to be determined to solve.

“It’s probably the French,” an aide to Raab conjectured, “they’ll do anything to making leaving the EU difficult. Especially stealing the colonies the UK needs to make itself great again.”

As an interim measure Raab has ordered maps at the FCO in London to be redrawn to move British Columbia from the west coast of Wales, where he had personally drawn it in, and to somewhere in the mid-Atlantic.

“Just until he can work out what the hell is going on.”

Having made a full recovery Dom has now journeyed south, across a newly discovered land bridge between Canada and the USA, where he will spend his time being comforted by warmongers. Presumably being encouraged to go home and order something blown up in the Middle East.

Interrail is going – well, it’s going all over Europe, but it is not going to the UK. The reasons are complex and confusing, so let’s just blame Brexit.

Except London. You can go to London. But that’s only because they haven’t closed the channel tunnel yet.

The original, Victorian, channel tunnel was cancelled because of the fear of invasion. The 21st century killjoys don’t want to be invaded by wide-eyed young foreigners talking in foreign.

But even worse is the fear of radicalisation by the EU. “We can’t have young people growing up believing that rail services can be cheap, efficient, and worst of all, publicly owned!” spluttered unelected British bureaucrat Rusty Rayles.

It’s pure xenophobia too, of course. “We strongly believe that British seats on British trains in Britain should be taken by British bottoms, and not by foreign arses,” insisted Rayles, turning a bit more gammony. “Imagine if, on your way to work, your usual seat is taken up by some scruffy long-haired oik from Madrid called Pedro, smelling of garlic, playing a guitar and talking loudly to his mates across the carriage in Spanish! The very notion is abhorrent!”

In these small-minded times, freedom of movement is regarded as a bad thing. Official thinking is that people should stay in one place, and be of one mind, unless their feudal overlord grants them leave. No train, no gain.

“We want our railways back!” harrumphed Rayles. “Hundreds of different companies! Stations in the middle of nowhere! Smoke, steam, and travelling to nowhere in particular at a snail’s pace! First class for the people who matter, and a couple of cattle trucks for the rest! And we don’t want them to be used by every Tomas, Ricardo and Henriques!”

Change here for Brexit Britain. Yes, the train carries on, but you must get off. Unfortunately, the line hasn’t been built yet and the route is still undecided. Here, let’s shunt you into a siding for a bit. Rejoice!

RAAB GOES MAPMAKING : Canadians have expressed their relief today that they got a visit from FCO Dominic Raab and not the FCO who comes after Raab.

The relief is based on the prevailing UK trend of each prime minister being worse than the last, and of course all the accompanying ministers follow the same trend.

”Especially since the unanimous decision by the British people to vote overwhelmingly to commit economic and diplomatic suicide,” a spokesman for the Canadian foreign office told LCD Views.

”When we heard the pulsing vein of British diplomacy was coming to our neck of the woods on a cartographical adventure we were seriously nervous. We’ve almost exhausted our famous levels of politeness dealing with the Cheeto headed white supremacist to the south. Now we have to play host to the man who recently discovered Dover? It was a bit much. What would he discover about Canada?”

But after running the visit and its possibilities through a computer simulation usually reserved with forecasting the futures of the lumber industry (it was felt most appropriate to Raab, two short planks and all that), the Canadians discovered they’d scored a lucky break.

”Yes we were going to have to explain, slowly, patiently, repetitively, that 28 is a bigger number than 1, and post Brexit UK wasn’t getting CETA. At least we weren’t going to have to do over WW2 and Mark ‘D Day’ Francois’!”

That’s a win by anybody’s standards. No-one wants to have to deal with a packet of the very thickest mince with a chip on both shoulders, an inferiority complex as big as Boris Johnson’s ego, and a penchant for handing out white feathers.

One further man was delighted. “I’ve found out where Canadia is!” said Dominic Raab happily. “It’s next to the United St… Hang on, unions are bad, aren’t they? Err… Yes, that’s it! It’s next to Friendly Land, where Mr Donald lives with melons in a white pentagon! And they gave me some nice new crayons!”

On hearing the news, Mark Francois was hospitalised with small man syndrome. Meanwhile Raab is getting on with colouring in My First Atlas. He has got the colours inside the lines. Mostly.