10 Downing Street : Dominic Cummings takes the title of Witchfinder General

UNDEMOCRATIC LIE PYRES : The Grima Wormtongue of 10 Downing Street, that unelected ear whisperer Dominic Cummings, has decided on a new title, having grown bored of being called ‘a source’. It’s just not intimidating enough.

“People also too readily confuse the title and ask if he’s a red or brown sauce?” an aide to ‘the source’ told LCD Views, “homophones are very confusing in modern Britain. Just spend five minutes reading comments from pro-Brexit accounts on social media! So he’s leafed through the history books and come up with something fitting.”

The something fitting is the title of ‘Witchfinder General’, first made popular during the first English Civil War (we’re currently trying to do the second) by one Matthew Hopkins. He liked tall hats. You can expect to see Cummings wearing one soon.

“Dominic hasn’t been appointed by parliament to his role next to Boris Johnson either, just like Matthew Hopkins wasn’t appointed to the role of Witchfinder General,” the source close to ‘the source’ advised, “so it’s a nice symmetry.”

It appears to be the logical next step for the unelected, undemocratic, data crunching, social media micro-targeting, so called genius behind the lies and dissembling of the Leave campaign.

“He can really put the fear into those traitors spreading unhelpful narratives about No Deal Brexit now,” our source adds, “as we all know that remoaners float and weigh the same as a duck. So finding the witches undermining Brexit will merely be a question of applied science. Essentially anyone dealing in objective reality is going on the pyre.”

https://m.huffingtonpost.co.uk/entry/civil-servants-unhelpful-narratives-on-brexit_uk_5d5664a1e4b0d8840ff12a87

Boris Johnson to visit Scotland and discover in person how much he’s hated

BORIS COCKWOMBLESHANKS 1ST : Boris Johnson is to visit Scotland later today and have a wee chat with Nicole Sturgeon and Ruth Davidson, presumably not at the same time.

“He wants to personally discover how much he’s hated,” our Scottish office chief advises, “so he’s going north of the Hadrian’s Wall. Not many Tory prime ministers can say that!”

And while it’s fairly obvious that he’ll be about as welcome as a cup of cold baws, he’s not going to give two hoots.

“He’s not governing for the Scots,” our man continues, “that much is obvious. He’s still running the Brexit campaign. He’s not actually governing for anyone. Well, other than himself. Boris the first and last of his name, and all that.”

But while he is there he will at least promise to throw money about, hoping that the Scottish ruling class can be bought off with English cash, as with so many times in the past. But with the added twist of zero intention to follow through and pay.

“He’s going to offer Sturgeon lands and titles in Kent though,” so we hear anyway, “and let her build a castle with a bridge to France. He’s apparently already got planning approval. She can start whenever she wants. All she has to do is kiss the ring.”

So fat chance of that. But what about Ruth Davidson?

“He’s going to tell her to bend her knee or he’ll bend it for her,” our Scottish chief reckons, “so there’s the risk of an irony heavy bid for Scottish independence from the English conservatives by the Scottish conservatives on the way. Either that or she’ll just get in line like she has every other time.”

There’s nothing Orwellian about banning certain words, says JRM, as he instructs staff to call him Big Brother

HOW VERY BREXIT : Arch-Brexiteer, historical curiosity and all round sinister stand up act, Jacob Rees-mogg, has moved quickly to stamp his mental boot in the very minds of the civil servants who now have to serve him. He’s done it by banning words.

Actual, traditional, English words.

Oh, and by ordering the staff to use imperial, because that’s going to show the EU who is boss, while simultaneously currying favour with the Americans, it’s presumed.

”We think in pictures but we express ourselves in words,” an imaginary Mogg told LCD Views, “and phrases of course. Resistance is futile, that’s a very nice succession of words. It is equal to ‘you will be assimilated’ in my affections.”

But some have queried whether he has the authority to do it, given it is thus planting his autocratic flag in the very minds of people who have to deal with the cavalcade of nonsense he will initiate, now he’s running government business in the House of Commons.

”Have they just? Which words did they use? We will ban those too,” Mogg smiled, “remain is clearly going on the list. Oh, and Bercow. But there’s nothing Orwellian at all about banning certain words.”

This assertion looks a little shaky, given he has also ordered staff in his department to call him Big Brother on all official communications.

But supporters of the modern Nosferatu has said there’s not a lot to worry about. Boris Johnson will clearly do all he can to avoid any business in the Commons. Maybe even trying to actually close it. So it’s nice to think double and triple checking their work to ensure compliance with Mogg’s arcane diktats will at least give his staff something to do.

”We would not want to be wasting hard earned taxpayers’ money with idle hands now, would we,” Mogg purred, “now to be sure to ensure all measures of members are in inches.”

Theresa May’s premiership declared fit for work by DWP

WALKING DEAD : Outgoing prime minister of Nowhere, Theresa May, received a boost today when her almost dead premiership was declared fit for work by the Department for Work and Pensions.

”It means that she can carry on doing the job she loves even though her job is on its last legs,” a DWP spokesman said, “just because she’s dragging herself along the pavement outside No 10 doesn’t mean she can’t still work full time as prime minister.”

The assessment, which was carried out by a medieval plague doctor, as befits Ms May’s time as prime minister, is suspected as being a backup plan for when that yersini pestis of British politics, Boris de waffle Johnson, takes over next week.

”We all know Boris isn’t going to do any bloody work, fit for it or most definitely not,” the insider insided, “so this decision to keep the old girl’s political corpse at work in the wheelhouse is such good governance. Contingency planning.”

Whether or not Ms May will contest the judgement isn’t clear, but there where hints in her goodbye speech today. Although she didn’t know at the time that she wasn’t going to be allowed an unearned rest.

”It’s everyone else’s fault but mine,” she told an assembled crowd, “you’re all bastards, every last man and dog amongst you. I hate you all. If you’d all just compromised and done exactly what my neurotic control freakery demanded I would have been just fine. You’d all be living an even bigger nightmare, but I would have been fine, safely cocooned in the insane room I’ve built deep inside my mind, happily ruling over a totalitarian hell in which people are solely judged based on accident of birth.”

We’ll take from that that she’s unlikely to appeal.

SHOPPED : Johnson’s big red bus in for repairs after running over UK ambassador

ROOTED ROUTE MASTER : Boris Johnson’s famous bus is rumoured to be in for repairs today after its bumper was dented running over the UK ambassador to the USA.

“It’s just rumours,” a mechanic at the repair shop told LCD Views, “people are saying on social media it was Boris driving the bus, with pretend journalist, Oakshit, as the conductor, but it’s not confirmed. Whoever was driving the bumper is completely f*cked. But it seems likely Boris was a fellow traveller. When he was asked if it was right to drive right over the ambassador, to please Trump, and if he would pick him up and dust him down, he wouldn’t say yes.”

And it’s not just the bumper of the famous red bus.

“The paint work is all scratched up too. Partly that’s from running down, and then reversing back over, the UK ambassador to the USA. But it’s also because lots of Tory MPs keep coming down to the shop to key the bodywork.”

Why the bus decided to go after the UK Ambassador is clear at least.

“He was a thought criminal. He had to be purged,” the repair worker said, “I think that’s a very dangerous precedent. Between you and me, I get the feeling the Brexiters won’t be happy until they’ve completely dismantled all the pillars of a modern, representative democracy. Back to squabbling feudal barons with the little people just chaff. But that’s just my opinion.”

Attempts to confirm the rumours of who was driving the bus are underway. CCTV is being sought.

“It’ll save the country a lot of money in the end. Think of it as a Brexit dividend. Once we no longer govern ourselves we’ll save loads of money being run from the US. That’s the route that is being mastered by the Brexiters.”

All aboard!

There are parts of The North where they don’t speak English, says Boris

Plummy-voiced Eton-educated animated scarecrow Boris Johnson is concerned that there are parts of the country that don’t speak English. Specifically, The North.

“I’ve been all over The North,” claimed Boris, rising from the wreckage of his bed. “Birmingham, Liverpool, Newcastle, Glasgow, Swansea, Penzance, the East End. I can’t understand what the devil any of them is saying!”

Boris went to Newcastle to reassure the locals. “Everything will be spaffing, I mean spiffing, yes, yes, fantastic, I say, jolly good,” he stammered at a public meeting. “Goodness me!”

“Aareet, why-aye are yee takin wor yeut iv the EU?” yelled a Geordie from the crowd.

“One is most terribly sorry, my good sir, but well I say – one does beg your paaardohn one dane’t knoh what you mean,” replied Boris.

“Yee faffin faggit, ah will hoy yee intee the Tyne!” replied his adversary.

The pattern was repeated in Birmingham. “Naaa dale Brexit is bostin yaouw soy?” asked a Brummie interlocutor.

“Heavens above old bean, steady on,” replied Boris. “I must be going crazy, because I can’t make out head nor tail of your charming speech!”

“Mama weer all crazee now,” replied the Brummie in disgust.

Everywhere Boris went across The North, it was the same old story.

“Where’s all de fuck’n rips gone, eh, eh, eh? Calm down! Eh, eh?” asked a disgruntled Scouser.

“If ye dornt listen tae us Scots, we ur gonnae break awa’, Jimmy,” stated a strident Glaswegian.

“Shut yer norf and souf, yer posh bleeder!” bellowed an angry Cockney.

“It is most frightfully disappointing,” said a bewildered Boris. “None of these fine fellows can speak a single word of the Queen’s English. One is most considerably discombobulated. Compulsory re-education is the only way! Eton or bust! Jolly good show.”

Elocution means elocution. There must be some EU money sloshing around for it. Are you posh or peasant?

Voters encouraged to choose their ‘Brexit name’ to help make a success of Brexit

KNEE MOSELEY : THE GOVERNMENT is launching a new initiative to help make a success of Brexit. The scheme will see everyone eligible to vote in the UK choose a new name flavoured by Global Britain.

“We calling it ‘Choose Your Brexit Name’,” a spokesman at DExEU told LCD Views, “we don’t have a lot to do at the ministry for Exiting the European Union In As Shambolically A Way As Possible now, so we’ve decided to help with the country’s morale.”

The drive to rename everyone in the country was inspired by the social media fad of ‘porn names’, and by a pair of well known Conservative MPs who had a baby and called it Brexit.

“Porn name jokes are all very well,” the spokesman continued, “but it’s not very British. At least, not the modern Britain, governed by idiots, that we all know and love.”

The formula for choosing your new Brexit Name is miraculously simple. So simple anyone can do it.

“Of course if you choose not to select your new Brexit name, to help make a success of Brexit,” the spokesman warned, “as soon as either Jeremy Hunt or Boris Johnson begins the drive to crash the country out of the EU by the end of October, well at that stage the government will choose a name for you. This will be done at random with a computer algorithm.”

But what’s the formula to choose your Brexit name voluntarily?

“It’s very easy,” the spokesman said, “my Brexit Name is Ear Mussolini. In fact it’s my real name now. I’ve changed it legally. But don’t worry if you don’t do that. Once the government chooses your Brexit name for you they’ll change it for you too. And give you a new blue passport.”

But what’s the formula?

“You simply take the first body part you punched yourself in and your favourite WW2 leader. It couldn’t be simpler.”

Choose your Brexit Name today, or somewhere a computer will do it for you.

Basil Fawlty uses maiden speech in EU parliament to compare FOM to slavery

HITTING A CAR WITH TREE : An aged Basil Fawlty used his maiden speech in the EU parliament to compare the unique right of Freedom of Movement across a continent today to slavery.

”Slaves were given burgundy passports too you know!” Basil informed a despairing crowd of democratically elected and well paid multi-national representatives, “it was the mark of slavery in the ancient world to allow people to move of their own free will. The very stamp of it.”

The speech, thought to be highly amusing to Basil and the other desperate characters representing the Fawlty Party in the EU, was an interesting comparison.

”Completely insulting to the millions who suffered and died under slavery of course,” our resident historian notes, “much like Jeremy Hunt’s atrocious attempt to use Auschwitz for political point scoring the other day. There’s something about Brexit that rots the moral core out lock and stock.”

It also caused considerable embarrassment back in the U.K. to anyone who isn’t a cretinous bigot.

It is thought to perhaps signal a change in strategy by the Brexiters. And could well bear fruit as people formally opposed to Brexit begin to switch to supporting Leave if it at least means idiots like Widdecombe and co have to shut up and come home. Stop making us cringe so deeply on the world stage.

How the actual hardworking, principled EU representatives will react to the roll call of horror that is Brexit Party MEPs isn’t clear, but one did offer us a clue.

”Just between you and me we’re all going to move back to Brussels,” the  source said, “the moment those idiots turn their backs again. Given they never turn up to actually work, it’s highly likely they won’t notice we’re we’ve gone.”

BBC say they didn’t realise they’d censored Johnson saying “turd” as every word he says is merde

WHAT HAPPENS AT AUNTEE’S : The BBC have deftly turned the latest criticism of their lack of impartiality down the legside for two today by coming up with an entirely credible reason for helping out Boris Johnson in a documentary.

“You’ve seen him, he always talks shit,” the editor of the programme in question explained, “so when I was cutting up the footage for the FCO documentary I had a lot of trouble picking out any individual phrases mumbled by Mr Johnson. It was a turd salad. That’s all he ever dishes up.”

The explanation is believed to be a credible excuse. Even the most in-depth analysis of Boris Johnson’s verbiage leads the most hardened feeling like they’ve been hosed down by an actual sewer hose. With a blockage. That unblocked. While you were being hosed.

”It wasn’t any easier trying to pick out an individual profane insult directed across the channel from his catalogue of xenophobic nonsense. It all just washes over you after a while, and then you need to shower. I’m surprised anyone was able to tell the turd moment was missing.”

Quite how the French will respond to the latest insult from a senior British politician is not certain.

It can’t help but burnish the most probable Prime Minister of Great Britain’s already solid reputation.

”They’ll probably fetch a cow,” the BBC editor mused, “watch out above as it flies over. British comedy classics from the past are a guide for how to deal with the Britain of today.”

Crap Churchill impersonator says he makes word salads from alphabet spaghetti to unwind

TOSSING UP A WORD SALAD : The UK’s next prime minister (well, maybe) has given a candid early morning interview, part of a media blitz, in which he described the way he writes his speeches.

“I get these hard little cans, tins, tins that have food letters inside, you know, aaaaaaah, those little alphabet foods, and then I, I, I get my maid to find the can opener before scooping out the food letters inside,” he told a baffled radio journalist,

“then I smear the letters all over my face. I paint my face in them with my palms. It’s quite messy. I always need a shower after it, but I make sure to pick off the letters before I get into the shower so it doesn’t block up the plug hole,

“plug holes are very interesting places. Whole worlds. Worlds like you can find on Star Trek. When I have enough letters I take the ones that stuck to my cheeks and I place them in a line on the sofa. A white sofa so you can see the words as you write them. Then I commit it all to memory. It’s how I write my speeches. All of them. All the time. Alphabet spaghetti. An amazing British invention. It’s how I unwind.”

The interviewer just stared. The country just stared. The entire world just stared and decided we have now given up all pretence to still being a serious country.

It doesn’t have to be this way.