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My indecision is final, says woman having to make tough choices

Prime Minister for now at least, Theresa May, is faced with many tough and unpalatable choices. This is par for the course for any PM, but Theresa is in the habit of ducking her challenges.

Without wishing to be catty, the hardline Eurosceptics in her party have dogged her footsteps all the way. Brexit, the white elephant in the room, is making her life very uncomfortable.

LCD Views caught up with May in an abandoned cowshed in the middle of nowhere. Although not among the select few invited to attend, two Bovine Impersonation correspondents dressed in a pantomime cow costume, and gained entrance by allowing themselves to be milked.

“Let me be quite clear about this,” said May in a voice that curdled the milk. “This country has a number of difficult choices to make, and my indecision is final.”

Which choices are these, ventured a sympathetic hack, as the pantomime cow let out a low moan.

“We have a number of options to consider,” May continued. “The Customs Union, A Customs Union, The Customs Partnership, A Customs Partnership, or a hybrid model. Of course these must be debated ferociously, and the needs of the realists balanced with the desires of the swivel-eyed loons. The buck stops with me, well it would but I just can’t help passing it.”

What about the Irish border, enquired another journalist. The pantomime cow gasped.

“There are plenty of options on the table,” said May. “Hard, soft, frictionless, technological. Or hard as possible, soft as possible and so on. The pros and cons of each must be passed back and forth endlessly, rejected time and again by the EU, until the final whistle blows.”

Then we crash out with no deal, exclaimed an astonished junior columnist. The cow stifled a shout.

“Yes. Or no,” replied May. “I’m not sure yet.”

But surely the country needs certainty, said an exasperated senior editor. “Yes! Yes!” cried the cow.

“That’s quite right,” May answered, as your fully-milked correspondents collapsed. “I am sure of one thing at least. It’s all Jeremy Corbyn’s fault.”

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Biggest spoon in cabinet drawer to spend £3B to win orbiting wooden spoon in global satellite race

LCD Views’ navigation correspondent reports this morning that the biggest spoon in the Tory cabinet has announced that the UK is to spend three billion pounds developing its own GPS satellite in a fit of pique.

“This is outrageous,” the shiny piece of cutlery told us, “I’m not the biggest spoon in the cabinet draw. Boris is. Or maybe Davis. Or maybe the prime minister. Or even the new kid Sajid, give him time. Me? You’ve seen how I took on Putin with playground chat. I’m a man. I own a spider.”

But regardless of who is the biggest spoon in a jammed drawer which features no knives or forks, UK Defence Secretary Gavin Williamson is still intent on spending three billion pounds on a satellite system that will takes years to build and be done without the cooperation of the countries we’ve just spent more than fifteen years developing the EU’s system, Galileo, with.

“I admit I stack up like a good spoon with the rest of them,” Mr Williamson mused, “you should see us playing sardines in the cupboard at Chequers. Shape is very important if you want to jam spoons into a tight space.”

He went on like this for some time.

We interrupted to ask if there were any other ways we could spend three billions pounds, perhaps by not blowing decades of international cooperation out of the water and spend the money on strained public services at home?

“And you think I shouldn’t be trusted with a knife and fork!” he hit back, “if we don’t waste money as fast as possible while delivering the best Brexit possible, then it’ll be harder to justify privatising whatever is left when we have made a success of Brexit.

What will the offshore interests funding this neocon coup say then? Seriously, just go away and shut up or I’ll insult you again.”

Mr Williamson called us up later to add,

“I”m very shiny. You should see me when I’m polished.”

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Firefighters refusing to fight blaze as that would go against the wishes of the arsonists

A group of famous firefighters are coming in for criticism for refusing to fight a long running blaze, as doing that “would go against the wishes of the arsonists. And the arsonists have decided. It doesn’t matter what burns to the ground, so long as the wishes of the arsonists are respected. No matter how malicious.”

We thought we better dig a little deeper into this attitude.

”We intend to stand about watching it all burn,” Ms Thornberry, a key member of the team confirmed to LCD Views this morning, “see, my firefighter’s hard hat is under my arm. My friend Keir’s hose is all spooled up. Our brave, noble, principled captain is in his allotment.

He thinks the smoke you can smell everywhere is people burning off in their gardens.

He’s funny. He keeps saying get the marshmallows. I thought we were supposed to be eating popcorn by now? There’s enough heat to cook it.”

But what do you expect the outcome of your inaction in the face of a building inferno to be?

Surely you don’t expect to keep your jobs as the official opposition to fire if you don’t fight the fires started by the arsonists?

”It’s okay, the fires will burn themselves out eventually. We might even get lucky and the arsonists put the fire out themselves by accidentally throwing water and not petrol on the blaze.

Let’s wait and see, shall we? The arsonists own this fire. They started it.”

It doesn’t sound like you know your job.

”What? Blairite! We expect to see close to the exact same benefits once the fire has burned the whole f*cking show to the ground. Especially in manufacturing.”

But one of the arsonists, Deadwood, is advising people to move their goods away from the fire. Far away. Isn’t that a heads up?

”What?”

Don’t worry. Thanks for your time. You can go back to cheering on the flames now.

The firefighters’ stance is causing increasing confusion however, especially as it’s now certain the fire is going to burn deep and far. Right through the jobs of so many workers. Right through the rights of millions too.

Still, there are some members of the crew who are determined to fight the flames.

And even some very experienced, elderly firefighters who’d expected to pass their time beside the fireplace occasionally commenting on small blazes and calling for sherry. They hope if enough realise the danger, everyone can be brought together to fight the flames while there’s still something to save.

We had one last go at trying to make sense of the inaction from the official opposition to fires.

”They don’t understand how unpopular we’ll be if we run about sirens blazing waking people in their homes,” the firefighter chief told us, “remember, we don’t own the fire, the arsonists do. Our job is simply to observe it. And watch it all burn. Then we can all play in the ashes. This will make us popular and lead to great social change.”

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Thatcher waiting in Hell to discuss value of single market with the Maybot

Expressions of sympathy were being sent to Theresa Mayhem Maybot today after revelations that a cabinet ouija board session not only successfully contacted former prime minister Margaret Thatcher, but a message was successfully transmitted during the session.

“It was frightening stuff,” Philip Hammond, Chancellor of a Shrinking Chequer, told LCD Views’ arcane arts specialist, “we drew the curtains late at night. Lit a candle. Got the board out that Margaret herself used to communicate with the devil during her premiership and…well, that’s when it happened. The curtains fluttered in a mystic wind and the board started spelling out a message to Ms May.”

Quite why the government has turned to occult practises to attempt to find solutions to complex policy choices is anyone’s guess.

“It’s not hard to guess,” Mr Hammond interrupted our scribe, “we’ve had thousands of civil servants under the cosh for two years to solve the problems thrown up by Brexit and we’ve got nothing. So we’ve turned to magic.

I’m against it. This is why you never hear of me. I’m spending my time at the pumps trying to stop the economic ship sinking, while these bastards keep drilling more holes in the hull.

I only hope I can survive it. Which is of course what all of the senior politicians across the divide who you don’t hear from are hoping.

At least we’re all millionaires, so whatever happens, we’ll be alright.

But if I can hold on until we get a new prime minister that is opposed to Brexit, I must just get to play with my big calculator in a fun way.”

But enough about you, what was the message?

“Oh, it was simple.”

Yes?

“Yes.”

Phil….

“Margaret said tell Theresa I’m waiting for her in Hell to discuss the value of the single market.”

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Michael Gove declares sunny Bank Holidays to be a Brexit dividend

Environment Secretary Michael Gove has come, blinking, out of the woodwork and into the sunshine. He has claimed that the fabulous sunny weather this Bank Holiday is a Brexit dividend.

“We Brits are used to cold, rainy Bank Holidays,” Gove drooled. “The excellent sunny weather this time coincides with our triumphant exit from the EU. Coincidence? I don’t believe in coincidences!”

Gove continued, after wiping the sweat from his pale, greasy brow. “We promised to Take Back Control!” he oozed. “We have taken back control of our weather. If the EU doesn’t like it, they can lump it. We have already got Proper Winters Like We Used To Have back too!”

Meteorological expert Stormy Daniels was not so sure. “We often have fine weather in May,” she remarked. “Although the snow in March was quite unusual. That was probably due to the climate changes which Mr Gove and his ilk strenuously deny.”

“Experts, pah!” slobbered Gove. “There is now a strong and stable high pressure area permanently above the British Isles. Brexit means eternal sunshine and spotless minds.”

Concerned for Gove’s mental state, LCD Views contacted government shrink Shay Zlong. Dr Zlong revealed that Gove had once had a close relationship with reality, but it had gone horribly wrong. He disclosed that Gove, traumatised and disillusioned, had undertaken a medical procedure to remove all memories of reality.

“Unfortunately, divorcing yourself from reality can mean that delusions take hold,” said Zlong sadly. “Fantasy takes over. Unicorns gallop over the rainbow and paradoxes vanish up their own backsides. This, alas, appears to be the case with Mr Gove.”

Is there anything that can be done for him?

“The real memories are still there,” said Zlong. “The procedure trains the brain to bypass them. In most cases the procedure is reversible. In the dungeons at Westminster there is a cell we call Room 101. An MP is locked in there and Michal Husain bombards them with facts and figures until they relent.”

MPs beware. Big Sister is watching you.

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First rule of Tory fight club is everyone talks about Tory fight club

The Prime Minister Theresa May has moved today to deal with the increasing problem of open in and out fighting within the cabinet.

“The first rule of Tory fight club is everyone talks about Tory fight club,” she laid down the first rule in front of the one or two reporters who can still be bothered to listen to her,

“and I want everyone in the Conservative cabinet, who isn’t currently publicly squabbling about how best to destroy the country in the service of asset strippers, to get themselves in front of a journalist and start hitting one of their colleagues in the face with a tightly bunched Tory fist.

It should stop people asking what Gove and Boris had to do with Cambridge Analytica and help out our colleagues at Labour by distracting people from pursuing that little transfer of voter info from the Labour party to Leave EU before the EUref.””

The move will be welcomed by nervous cabinet members, who may mistakenly believe the dirty laundry should be kept behind a door in a party utility room and washed privately.

“Pick a peer and smack them,” May added, “then go home and make some soap with the fat of the poor and have a wash underneath a portrait of Jacob Rees-mogg taking an uplifting moment in a food bank.”

The public reminder of the rule of the game was welcomed by the Labour Party.

“We are currently following the Conservative Party lead on Brexit, while appearing to be fence sitting,” Barry the Gardener told us, “clearly a lot of our younger members have moved from promoting party policies on social media to screaming like idiots at Labour MPs committing thought crime. They’ve even started petitions. Certain to be a vote winner in the face of people worrying about how trot we’re trotting.

You need us more than we need your vote.

That’s the slogan for our next general election campaign written already. We’re giving the older poets a rest this time and going in for modern verse.

The next time Chuka or Yvette says something fruity about not burning manufacturing and services in the United Kingdom to the ground I’m going after them.”

Suggestions that Labour and Conservative MPs might like to start fighting each other from a pro and remain standpoint would be in the public interest have been dismissed as not worth writing down.

“We’re going to keep whipping our party to enable Theresa May to bring about Lexit until she is deposed and Justine Greening installed as a pro-EU Tory MP pointing at Jeremy Brexit Corbyn and demanding a GE on the matter.

The first rule of Labour fight club is to only fight Labour in the fight club.”

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UKIP likens Nigel Farage to the common cold

A leading official of UKIP has described former leader Nigel Farage as “like the common cold”. This follows in the wake of the party describing itself as being like the Black Death.

The official, Y. Pestis, was being interviewed by Robin Nixon after the local elections debacle. Pestis stated: “Nigel is like the common cold. He is irritating, drains resources, and is difficult to get rid of.” The normally verbose Nixon was lost for words. Social media filled the vacuum, instantly branding Farage ‘The Bogey Man’.

LCD Views asked political commentator Anna Litical for her expert opinion. “Pestis is spot-on, for once,” she confirmed. “The common cold is highly infectious. Coughs and sneezes spread diseases. Nigel Farage went viral.”

Wouldn’t man flu be a better description?

“Not exactly,” Litical retorted. “Man flu is more like the effect that Mr Farage and UKIP have had on the country. You know, exaggerated symptoms. The UK threw a sickie, deciding that a minor nuisance was actually a major problem.”

So man flu, not Black Death, then. Seeking a cure, LCD contacted Westminster doctor Anna Bollix.

“You can only treat the symptoms of the common cold,” stated Dr Bollix. “Two aspirin, a hot drink and an early night, and wait for it to pass. Unfortunately, Mr Farage ignored the experts. He decided to get drunk and smoke a lot instead. He hasn’t got any better, and meanwhile he has spread the infection. Stupid boy!”

Are there any alternative treatments?

“You could try steroids,” suggested Dr Bollix. “They help fight infection, and make you feel more, erm, manly in the, erm, manly department. I wouldn’t recommend them to Mr Farage, as he is already a big enough dick.”

How does the infection spread?

“It is spread by the faecal-oral route,” said Dr Bollix. “In other words, by people swallowing bullshit.”

Unfortunately, the infection has developed a resistance to all known remedies, including common sense. Brexit is the norovirus of the body politic, and the UK is the sick man of Europe.

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Cartographer says Peak Corbyn positioned in perpetual shadow of Mount Brexit

LCD Views sent our specialist, staff cartographer on a fact finding mission the moment Justine Greening successfully deployed the phrase “Peak Corbyn” to see if we could discover its location on any known maps.

”Justine said it to send Momentum activists down a rabbit hole on social media,” our map expert advises, “meaning they spent more time ridiculing and arguing how wonderful their local election success was, in spite of only really achieving the scoredraw against May that is Corbyn’s general result.

It also meant they spent no time wondering how the governing Tories still lost seats while magnetically drawing the racist UKIP vote home.

A vote their sanited leader is also fighting for, apparently because it might cost them some votes to fight for non-racist, fact based, pro-EU positions, even though there is known to be millions of swing voters willing to vote for a major party which adopts this position.

It’s very clever and as she twinned it with an attack on Jacob Rees-mogg’s insistence that May crashes the U.K. economy, it neatly signals her return to front line politics after five months planning in the shadows. It’s the start of her positioning to climb Mount May and conquer it. This is the establishment of base camp.”

That’s an excellent bit of opinionated theorising, of which this global news organisation have built our dominance on, but it doesn’t tell us much about the location on any map of Peak Corbyn?

“Then you need to read it again. It tells you exactly where Peak Corbyn is located.”

Just point to it on a map please.

”Fine. If you insist. Peak Corbyn is located in the perpetual shadow of Mount Brexit. But it’s a moveable peak, dependent on political tectonics.”

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Long running pants fire turns man’s buttocks into candles

The Foreign Secretary was coming in for renewed criticism today after an audit of the FCO’s accounts revealed the ministry had spent almost half its annual budget already on dealing with Boris Johnson’s giant pants fire.

“We threw everything we had at it,” an aide to the foreign secretary told LCD Views, while stepping out of the office for some fresh air, “most of the furniture. All the files. I even ripped up a few carpet tiles and pressed them to the pants fire, but nothing, nothing can smother it.”

What about the emergency services?

“Oh, the firefighters gave up responding to our calls over a year ago. Heaven help us if the actual building catches fire. It will probably turn into another great fire of London merely because the 999 operators have been told to screen any calls from our post code. This is to stop whole crews standing baffled at Boris lying through his teeth while real people with real emergencies go unaided.”

And now that Mr Johnson’s butt cheek fats have melted and the charred clothing on the exterior has begun acting like a wick, it’s hard to see the fire ever being extinguished?

“Yes. His recent statements about how the ‘meh’ local election results from Thursday are a mandate for hard Brexit are probably what caused the melt.”

Well at least you’ll have office lighting when the Russians use their internet A-bomb, take down our internet infrastructure and the power supplies with it.

“You’d think that would be reassuring, but the office is a sealed environment. I dread to think of the risk to us all if the ventilation systems stop working and Mr Johnson is still talking.”

Oh the humanity?

“A bunch of serial liars so deceitful they’re turning into bum candles in office for eight years? You can certainly say that. Still, the special candle holder we had commissioned to replace his office chair may have blown the budget, but it gives the place a modern look.”

We asked Mr Johnson for a personal statement regarding his candle in the wind position and he replied,

“With my bright, burning buttocks all I have to do now is moon the world to shine a light for Global Britain. Every time I fart you’ll see a flare.”

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Man celebrates with pint after pint after his movement completes capture of government

“I’m putting on hold my plan to form a militia,” a well known British European, and alleged Kremlin front man, told LCD Views this morning, “at least for the moment. Which is not all bad. Armoured mobility scooters are very expensive.”

The reason for the pause in preparations for an armed insurgency in defence of the right to demolish rights was clear.

“We’ve finally succeeded in my decades long mission to take over the UK government,” he smirked, “and I tell you we had to dig a big hole to do it.

The open pit data mining in particular has made such a scar in the political landscape I expect the opposition too to stop toppling on the edge and fall right in soon and lose even more legitimacy because of their open support for my Brexit project, if reports of that party handing over their entire database on voters to Leave EU prior to the EU ref prove true.”

So what’s next for you?

“I’m here to create confusion as a cover to power for other forces. It’s a fun gig. I’ll carry on saying outrageous things to keep my regular gig with the BBC. I’m funded by the public purse to do it. Which is hilarious. What mugs I’ve made of so many millions.”

That’s a reason to celebrate?

“Yes. Think of my movement akin to the black death. We’re very infectious and we eventually get into every bright space of life and cause cysts on the democratic process that if not lanced will..well, I shouldn’t prattle on. Let’s get hammered and crank call some Eurotrash? What do you say?”

Now I understand your celebra-tory pint, even while many are celebrating the demolition of your personal party with its almost total ballot box collapse.

“We’ve been absorbed full into the host now. We’ve won. We haven’t been wiped out. We’ve been absorbed.

The government will be further paralysed with us drilling holes through it’s collective brain. UKIP was always just the vector. The racists are now voting as they should for the policies they should. One of my chaps will soon clear out the Maybot and then the gutters are the limits. Would you like a pint? I’ll put it on expenses.”

No thanks. I’m off to look for the antibiotic that can eliminate democratic Yersinia pestis.

“It’s staring everyone in the face. It’s stopping the isolationist, rights destroying, neocon, tax haven serving, racist fuelled project of Brexit. But you need an official opposition that wants to stop it to do that.”

What did you say?

Ring a ring o’ roses, a pocket full of posies…