"VSOP Satire", "GT Satire", "Prime Satire", "Hand-crafted Satire", "Homeopathic Satire", "Full Bore Satire"
Today my mate John Problem had a message from Vladimir Putin, whom he'd met when Vladi was a cop in St. Petersburg. They've kept in touch on and off, mostly by e-mail, which is safe and innocent.
“Dobriye den, John, I hope you are well despite all horrible things happening in your birthplace. So, I observe your country is no longer democratic! Is great shame you leave our community of fairly elected leaders. Very regrettable. How can you allow only 92,000 old white men elect your leader? Is incredible! All the nations of the world revere England's fair ways, her brave speakers for the people, the great fairness of her society. But now you throw away democracy and allow only 0.15% of your electorate to put in place a new leader of your country. 0.15%!! And they are all old white conservative voters who have paid £10 each to vote! In Russia cost much more to vote! And the new leader is man of dubious morality, a shouter, a self-confessed intellectual! Who is not representative of the people – he go to private school where only 7% of children go in your country!How could you do this, John? Is incredible! And he wants so desperately to leave the EU.! What is wrong here? Leave the EU and your country die, economically. Your country die diplomatically. Your country die! Come and see me in Moscow – we work something out for you. Budem, John! Vladi.”
TAXING THE AIR WE BREATHE.
Transcript of an interview with the up-coming Environment Minister on JPTV's current affairs programme, 9 July 2019.
Interviewer: Could you please tell the viewers more about the up-coming government's proposal to tax air, starting on the August Bank Holiday?
Minister: Of course. This is a most exciting initiative. And Britain will once again be leading the world. As you know, the country's financial situation is extremely difficult, due mainly to the profligacy of previous Labour governments and the European Union. As government, we take our responsibility very seriously to reduce the country's debt and, as the next Prime Minister says, to lead Britain forward again. We know, from our soundings up and down the country, that the people of Britain will welcome any initiative that helps to improve the country's economic situation. So we know that this carefully thought-out proposal to tax air will be gladly received.
Interviewer: How will it actually work?
Minister: People will pay a tax on the air they breathe, of course. Now, most importantly, we want this to be a fair tax – so there will be different levels of taxation.
Interviewer: Different levels of taxation?
Minister: Of course. You can't expect everybody to pay the same tax. There are different rates of use. There are different qualities of air. So we have taken these facts into consideration and our proposal contains the very best of British fairness. For example, old folk, over the age of 75, will pay less than others because they consume less. Young people between the age of 14 and 30 will pay more because they consume more air. People who live in the countryside and at the seaside will pay a small premium because their air is purer than elsewhere.
Interviewer: And what about London?
Minister: You are right to ask. It's most important that we get that right. Our proposal is to make no charge for it within the City, the boroughs of Kensington & Chelsea, Westminster, and immediately contiguous postal codes.
Interviewer: You're going to make no charge for air in London!?
Minister: Most certainly. We don't want in any way to displease the many resident billionaires in London who make such a huge contribution to Britain's economy.
Interviewer: Let me see if I've understood that. You propose to tax the British people for the use of air – starting August Bank Holiday- but not to tax the wealthy in London.
Minister: Quite so.
Interviewer: But that's outrageous and totally unfair!
Minister: Oh God! Another red! Where's my limo?
HOOD ROBIN AND HIS SCARY MEN.
A FABLE FOR OUR TIMES
LIST OF CHARACTERS:
Hood Robin a most successful banker
Friar TaxFree The world's biggest expert on tax avoidance
BigBonus John Lives only for his bonus
Allan a Deal An infamous deal-maker.
Much the Hedger's Son The son of the biggest hedge fund trader ever.
Prince WallStreet The toughest banker/private equity manager/ hedge fund
trader/ commodities dealer/ in the whole world.
The Sheriff of the City
An Old Man
Churl A hero of the poor
*********************** A COPSE IN SHERWOOD FOREST. MORNING.
Hood Robin and his Scary Men sing and dance.
SCARY MEN We are the filthy rich; We're ripping off the poor. We're leaving them without a stitch, The bailiff at the door. We're the golden boys of banking! Oh yeah! The golden boys of bonuses as well!
We are the filthy rich; We're ripping off the poor. We take it all without a hitch, 'cos we're above the law. We're the golden boys of banking! Oh yeah! The golden boys of bonuses as well!
Enter Prince WallStreet and the Sheriff.
Prince WallStreet O.K! O.K! Very nice - but quit it! You guys have gotta work a lot harder if we're gonna hit 18 billion in bonus this year. Ya gotta hit the poor harder! Harder, ya hear! That's what they're here for, right? To be hit, right? Our bonus target is 18 billion and I don't mean 17 billion. Geddit?
HOOD We're working on it WallStreet. We'll get there, don't you worry.
WALLSTREET There's millions of poor out there! Go out and get 'em! I've fixed everything up with your government so you don't have no issues there, OK?
SHERIFF Oh, yes. Oh dear me, yes. The Prince did a splendid job. I'm sure we could never have done it without him.
WALLSTREET So tell the guys what I did.
SHERIFF Well, after a series of meetings, the government backed down totally on all of its threats. Every single one!
The Scary Men cheer.
SHERIFF They threatened total transparency.
The Scary Men groan.
SHERIFF They threatened dreadful regulations.
The Scary Men shudder.
SHERIFF They said they'd put an extra tax on our bonuses.
The Scary Men suck in their lips.
SHERIFF They said they would never bail us out again.
The Scary Men make 'ouch' noises.
SHERIFF But, in the end, they backed off from everything they'd said. Nothing will happen. Nothing whatsoever. It's all absolutely splendid!
The Scary Men whoop and applaud.
WALLSTREET So, there ya go, guys. The road is clear. And the poor are everywhere. So no delay. Let's do it!
SHERIFF On the subject of the poor being everywhere, we are very close to completing the wall around the City. It's 25 feet high all the way round! Of course, the police will continue to patrol the City every day, as they always have. So you see, there will be no bank raids in our territory! Tee hee.
The Scary Men laugh and pat each other on the back. Wallstreet and the Sheriff leave. Enter an old man carrying a bundle under his arm.
HOOD Hold fast there, old loon!
OLD MAN Eh?
HOOD Stop! Where are you going?
OLD MAN France. If it's any business of yours, young man.
OLD MAN Aye, France. It's warmer there and they have baguettes and citizens' banks. And that's where I'm going.
HOOD Taking all your money with you, are you?
The Scary Men all laugh.
OLD MAN I am.
HOOD In that bundle?
OLD MAN Aye. Although what its got to do with you, I don't know. Who are you, anyway, with all your impertinent questions?
The Scary Men all hoot.
HOOD I'm Hood Robin. And these are my Scary Men. So hand over your bundle, old loon.
OLD MAN Dear me. That's bad news.
HOOD Too right!
The Scary Men all laugh again. The Old Man walks forward to the front of the stage and addresses the audience.
OLD MAN Friends. Don't be too worried about me. I've got a little surprise for this rabble, even though I’m very old. He turns towards Hood.
OLD MAN Yes. that's really bad news. For you, I mean.
HOOD What? Don't make me laugh! Hand over your bundle!
OLD MAN Here you are. But you shouldn't open it.
HOOD Come on! Why not, eh?
OLD MAN Because you might not like what you see inside.
HOOD Then, you open it!
OLD MAN Are you frightened, Hood? I thought you were a big tough guy. (To the Scary Men) And he's your leader? How sad.
HOOD I'll knock your block off, you old loon, if you don't shut up and open that bundle. OLD MAN Don't say I didn't warn you.
He puts the bundle on the ground and slowly unrolls it. Nothing happens. Hood approaches the bundle warily and the Scary Men gather round at a distance.
HOOD Well? Let's see what's in it!
The Old Man picks up something from the bundle and holds it out to Hood. HOOD What's that?
OLD MAN Bad news for you.
OLD MAN My life savings. A five cent Euro coin and a button.
HOOD Don't mess with me, you old fool. Where's the rest?
OLD MAN Are you kidding, young Hood? After all the government cuts, and prices going up for everything, food and heating, and heaven knows what else we haven't heard about yet. What chance do we have to save anything? Eh? We get the lowest old age pension in the world, and it's taxed! Do me a favour and go and rob a politician.
HOOD Come on, guys. We're wasting our time here.
They exit. The Old Man comes to the front of the stage again.
OLD MAN Clod-poles! That's what they are. Well, between you and me, their time is running out. Their golden days are over. Churl is coming! Remember that name - Churl!
A NEARBY FANCY RESTAURANT. HOOD AND HIS SCARY MEN SIT AT A TABLE. SAME DAY HOOD Allan! Order up another six bottles of Krug, will you? And more of the foie gras. I'm feeling peckish. I tell you, I'm sick of looking at the poor. And at their stupid faces when we take their money. They're so boring.
FRIAR TAXFREE Ah, that foie gras! I'll have a kilo, Allan. Now, Hood, I've been updating on new tax havens. Here are the latest. County Cork, Tijuana, North Korea and Tower Hamlets which has just declared independence from Britain. Of these, I think we can only sensibly use North Korea. Pass the toast, would you?
HOOD Sounds good to me. How are you doing with your commodities search, John? BIGBONUS JOHN Duh. Good, boss.
HOOD Well? What did you find?
BIGBONUS JOHN Duh. Well, boss. I started at the 'A's and then I did the 'B's. Then I got to the 'C's and there it was, boss. Real cool. Coal mines in Qatar!
BIGBONUS JOHN Duh. You're always saying we should target what's got nowhere and then talk it up. Well, coal mines in Qatar is exackerly that. Innit?
HOOD H'm. What do you think, Much?
MUCH Look, Chief. I'm happy to manage our Georgian estates in the Shires, and our chateaux on the Riviera, and our Manhattan penthouse apartments and our air-conditioned yachts and our super-charged Ferrari's, but I don't want to be involved in gambling, anymore. I’m happy just being V.P. Admin.
HOOD OK. I have no issue with that. Did you research it, John?
BIGBONUS JOHN Duh. Yeah! It was great. Percentually, coal mines in Qatar is the greatest opportunity since the invention of the credit default swap!
HOOD Really? I see. Well. Anybody know anything about coal mines?
ALLAN A DEAL I don't think there are any coal mines in Qatar.
HOOD Does it matter? OK, John, you run with it, give it the whole algorithm treatment and report back. Looks like another useful instrument to make a few more pennies! Don’t forget to VaR it.
SCARY MEN (dancing and singing) SPUs and SIVs; SPOs and CDOs; CDSes and Derivatives; Illicit credit-based securities, Commodities and liquidities! We love them all! We love them all! 'Cos we are the golden boys of banking. Yeah!
A RAMSHACKLE VILLAGE IN THE FOREST WHERE SOME OF THE POOR LIVE. EVENING. OLD MAN Where's Churl? I must see him!
CHURL I am here. What would'st thou?
OLD MAN Hood Robin and his Banker Gang are on the prowl nearby.
CHURL Is that a problem?
OLD MAN Yes! They have a huge target for robbing us! They intend to make an 18 billion bonus!
CHURL 18 billion? Excellent!
OLD MAN What, Churl? Did you say 'excellent'?
CHURL I did, old gentleman. Hack! and I have a plan and it will work best when they have amassed their 18 billion. Only then can we have our full revenge. Hack! is working on it every minute. The sweat drops off his brow, he will not stop, he will not even take off time to eat. He is a true hero and we must prepare a celebration for him, when we have achieved our objectives.
OLD MAN Can I sing my favourite song for him?
CHURL Which one is that?
OLD MAN "Can't get a educashun; can't get no rotten work. Every rotten politician is a money-making jerk. Me muvver's in the hospital; wiv a bloke on either side; Can't find a rotten dentist wivart a forty minute ride. Drunks lyin' on the pavement; potholes in the road; Useless rotten government; rotten billions owed. Thank you, politicians; and all your clever staff. Are you working for the working man? Don't make me rotten larf!" CHURL Very enjoyable, old gentle. But our first target is the bankers. Politicians are for later. Can you compose a song about the bankers?
OLD MAN I think I can do that, Churl. Just give me a day.
CHURL A day is all we have. My latest information is that the bankers are nearing their 18 billion. It will soon be time to act. Ah, Hack! What is it?
HACK! The connection is not that great just here, Churl. Can we go somewhere where I'll have a max signal?
CHURL O.K. We'll go the disused abbey, nearby. It's on higher ground.
IN THE RESTAURANT. SAME TIME.
HOOD How's the Qatari coal mine algorithm coming along, John?
BIGBONUS JOHN Duh. O.K. Some fiddly problems.
HOOD I can guess. The markets are not convinced.
BIGBONUS JOHN Yeah. Dat's it, Hood.
HOOD OK. Then tell them if they don't buy we'll leave. Go abroad. Set up somewhere else. That should shift them.
BIGBONUS JOHN Yeah, Hood! Great!
HOOD OK, Listen, guys. I told our runners to report to the disused abbey up the road when we got to the 18 billion. My latest information is that we're getting there. I tell you, that delta hedging is just great to rack up the good stuff. So let's get up to the abbey, right now!
THE SOUTH TRANSEPT OF THE DISUSED ABBEY. LATER. Hood stands before a small pillar on which he works at his computer while the Scary Men stand about expectantly. HOOD O.K. Uh huh. Great! The money's mounting up fast! We're going to do it, my men! We're well up past the 17 billion mark.
The Scary Men cheer.
THE NORTH TRANSEPT OF THE DISUSED ABBEY. SAME TIME. Hack! stands before a small pillar on which he works at his computer. Churl, the Old Man and the poor folk stand about watching. HACK! Whew! A good connection at last
CHURL Can you do it?
HACK! Just watch me!
THE SOUTH TRANSEPT OF THE DISUSED ABBEY. SAME TIME.
HOOD Yeah! Here we go. Look at the screen! Do you see that? Here she comes! Watch this, guys! Seventeen billion, nine hundred and ninety nine million, nine hundred and ninety nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety nine......... Here she comes! The big number!
THE NORTH TRANSEPT OF THE DISUSED ABBEY. SAME TIME.
HACK! Here comes their 18 billion.
He raises his hand dramatically, extends his finger, and to a low rumble of thunder in the background, taps a key on his computer.
HACK! And there it goes! Bingo! Straight out of their account and into ours.
He taps another key.
HACK! And on it goes. Back into the accounts of all the poor. Each and every one reimbursed with the money the bankers took from them. There you have it, Churl! The wonders of technology! At your service!
The poor dance and hug each other, tears streaming down their faces.
THE SOUTH TRANSEPT OF THE DISUSED ABBEY. SAME TIME. The Scary Men are clapping each other on the shoulder and doing high-fives, except for BigBonus John who is looking at the computer screen.
BIGBONUS JOHN Duh? Boss? Look at this. On your screen. It says 'Balance Zero.' What's that mean? Duh? Now it says 'All Balances Zero.'
HOOD What? What? My bonus! My bonus! It's gone! Where? Where? Aaargh! Collapses on his knees, wild-eyed and weeping. The scary men look about them with fear and horror - they panic and run, screaming.
THE END The audience cheer and applaud loudly.
'Muddle Through With May'
The new best-selling book about British Government! Just when everybody is totally fed up with discussing Brexit, this new book explaining how government works has become a best-seller!
Particularly in the North of England and in Northern Ireland. Information on how to purchase is given below – Available in e-book, paperback and large print editions.
The Chapter headings are as follows:
Why in London? Why not Scunthorpe?
How much expenses do MPs get?
Does it help to be an Old Etonian?
How many MPs know where Scunthorpe is?
Why will London never be nuked?
Is there anything left to privatise?
Is there anything left that's British?
Why is the National Debt £3.2 trillion?
Why is the current bank balance £140 billion?
Why doesn't Theresa May declare herself President?
Can you take your dogs to Europe next year?
Who is paying the interest on the National Debt etc.?
Why the tax-payer never knows where his taxes go.
Why are the EU so nasty to us?
What do we do with the borders when we get them back?
What does sovereignty mean. We already have a Queen.
When will Britain have a government worthy of the name?
If you're still reading this......
Watch out for the next best-seller! 'Boris, Jacob, Michel and me.” by a Lady.
I'm the Government's top fixer.
This is the kind of job I get that no MP is capable of doing.... Obviously, the PM reckons she can call an election soon.....
"105 Victoria Street, Westminster"
The Chief Whip has called me to his office and I am sat waiting as he deals with a phone call, in which he listens and someone the other end appears to be speaking most emphatically. Eventually he puts the phone down and massages his head and then his chin.
“Ah, Bryggs. Um. I have a task for you which must be handled with great care, secrecy, circumspection, and for your eyes only, as it were.”
“No problem, Minister.”
“Good. It's a property deal.”
“Wouldn't an estate agent be more suitable?” I ask. I really need a change from selling bricks and mortar.
“Oh no. Indeed, no. Security is paramount. And you must sign a confidentiality agreement, before leaving this office. But I want to get the ball rolling so I will give you the brief. No note taking, of course.”
He gets up and makes sure his office door is shut.
"Now, It has come to our notice that the owner of the leasehold on 105 Victoria Street, Westminster, is thinking of disposing of it and realising some cash. I want you to arrange matters so that a new owner – whom we shall specify - is fully advised of what's happening, and buys it. We do not wish to be involved in any way whatsoever. You have been chosen to consummate this delicate task.”
“You want me to advise a chosen buyer to step up and buy the lease. Why me?”
“Because you are trusted, dear boy, to be circumspect.” “Uh huh.”
“Who is this prospective purchaser?"
“He never does anything without his brother involved.” “Bravo, Jason! You are clearly capable of this task. Mr. Krov is an important man and needs careful handling. As does his unusual brother.”
“I met them once.”
“Even better. What did you think of them?”
“I wouldn't like to meet either of them in an alley on a dark night.”
He laughs for at least half a minute. I smile stiffly. “Good. Very good,” he says. “Go and see STAYPUT the people who handle the leasehold for its current owner. Get what info you can. And then see the brothers Krov. Can do?” “I'll give it my best shot.”
“Excellent. Report back in three days. Act fast, please. We don't want to miss this opportunity.”
What opportunity? What is the Chief Whip up to here? Or is the emphatic person on the phone driving this 'task'? I'm not sure whether it was a man talking or a woman....
I go and see STAYPUT, the property investment management company. What lot of po-faces. They asked me to sign a compliance document before they'd even let me take the lift. Until I mentioned who'd sent me, they looked at me as though I was something that had crawled out from under a brick of one of their properties. Now it's all sweet as pie. Why is it that in England everybody in the real estate business are such jerks? Anyway, they gave me a fat file.
“This is the pertinent dossier for your task, Mr.Bryggs,” said the fat one in a pin-stripe suit (70s? 80s?). The next time someone uses the word 'task' to my face, I'll thump him.
“I hope it is complete. Call me a cab, would you?” I say.
I phoned Alexei Krov, whose home number I still have, although I've never been there. In fact, I don't even know his origins, except he's not Russian. There's nothing on the web about his life before he arrived in London and he didn't share such info with me when we met last year. It was at a cocktail party given by one of my clients. I accidentally spilt bourbon on his remarkable girlfriend's dress. I expected something nasty as a result. I could see that his brother was clenching his fists. But Alexei seemed amused.
“Is not a problem, young man,” he said. “Ekaterina has many dresses. I shall send for one now.”
Ekaterina, the usual statuesque blonde you see with these guys, looked like she couldn't care either.
“Is no problem,” she said to Alexei. “I can go myself.”
And off she went, deliberately slinking, it seemed to me. “Young man, tell me your name. You have precipitated what was already beginning to happen.”
“Jason Bryggs. What was going to happen?”
“We are bored with each other. Just looking for a way to finish the relationship, you know. And you spilling the bourbon did the business.”
“Well, that's a relief.”
“Now, Jason. First, I get you a bourbon. Second, feel free to call me if ever you need. Here is my card.”
He invited me meet him at his penthouse. So that's where I am now, having been shown in by an old crone in a black overall. The room I'm in appears to be a very large living-room, lounge of some sort. It glitters. Every piece of furniture is gilded. Armchairs, side tables, drinks cabinet, even a foot-stool. The carpets seem to have gilt threads, the curtains too. One wall is completely glass with a very wide view over London's skyscrapers. I pick up a cushion and examine the design. A design picked out in gilt. It seems to be a rampant lion with a motto underneath 'Noli me tangere.'
“It means don't touch me,” says a voice over my shoulder. It's Alexei's brother, Yassili, or Yasso as he's called. He has crept up behind me soundlessly. He has very pale blue eyes, long crimped red hair onto his shoulders, and is tall and thin. Dressed in black leather as though he was about to get on a Harley.
“Oh, hallo,” I say cheerfully. He says nothing and just walks away. Then Alexei comes in, all smiles and affability. “Long time no see, Jason. How are you? Busy with your new job, I suppose. Coffee?”
“Yes please. And how are you?”
He presses a gilded button on the wall.
“Come and look at the view.”
I go to the window again and look out across London. Then I look down and see a swimming pool with what appears to be a small wave slowly moving across it.
“My latest addition. On the floor below.”
A girl in a gilded dress and no shoes walks in carrying a gilded tray with the coffee. The cups and saucers have gilded rims.
“Jason, this is Valerie. Valerie, this is Jason, a friend who did me a favour last year.”
“And has no doubt come to be recompensed,” says Yasso, creeping up behind us.
“Pleased to meet yew,” says Valerie with a perfect Essex accent. I notice she has gilded highlights to her hair. “Enjoy your coffee,” she says and walks off, glancing back at Alexei with a tilt of her head. Then she sees Yasso is looking at her, and shudders.
“There is no doubt that your English girls are very beautiful., says Alexei.
“Pah!” says Yasso.
“So, Jason. To business. I understand you have a proposition for me.”
So I tell him about 105 Victoria Street, Westminster. And the asking price.
“Rubbish price!” says Yasso.
Alexei nods his head and walks up and down the room, hands behind his back like Napoleon. He turns and looks at me.
“Somewhat small, isn't it? Not enough storeys to get what Yasso and I consider is an adequate return. Does your portfolio say if more storeys can be added?”
Damn. I hadn't thought of that. But then I never imagined you could add storeys to an existing building.
“I'm not sure. Let me find out for you,” I say.
“Better profits Kensington,” says Yasso.
“Do that, Jason, and call me tomorrow. Yasso will take you back to your office.”
What? No thanks.
“No. please don't bother. I can get a cab.”
“Yasso would be very disappointed,” says Alexei, pointedly. So we take the lift down to the parking basement. He's got a Harley.
“On,” he says. I get on the rear seat.
“Hat,” he says, handing me a helmet. He accelerates up the ramp, roars out on to the street, zooms between the traffic, the cabs, the buses, the cyclists, and skids to a halt outside my office.
“Many thanks,” I say. “Most enjoyable.”
He roars off, making the most of his enhanced exhaust.
I call the Chief Whip and tell him about the Krov brothers' reactions.
“H'm. How many storeys has it got?”
“Can it be built on further?” “I doubt it. Anyway, frankly, I think they're just playing games. Either to get the price down, which will depend on the owner. Or to get something out of you, that they want.”
“Well. I mean the government.”
“I see. Like what?”
“I haven't a clue.”
“Well, ask them then.”
So now I'm walking into the penthouse again, led by the old crone in the black overall. The brothers Krov are there, talking animatedly in a language I cannot discern.
“Ah, Jason. Welcome. You have met my mother, of course. Mama this is Jason Bryggs, a friend.”
This old crone is his mother? I give her a slight bow, thinking this might be the right thing to do. She is clearly pleased and shakes my hand vigorously.
“So, Mama. We'll see you later,” says Alexei, firmly.
Yasso kisses her cheek tenderly and she leaves. I tell them that my government is keen to complete the transaction in view and wonders if anything specific can be done to reach this goal. Yasso is watching me.
“Yes, there is, actually, Jason.” He pauses.
“I'm sure whatever it is will have the P.M.'s closest consideration.”
“Good. So this is the deal clincher. Yasso wants a Lordship. He wants to be made a Lord.”
I don't know whether to laugh or cry. I keep a straight face. Come to think of it, why shouldn't he be made a Lord? Him and Alexei give enough to the P.M.s' party. And the last prime minister gave honours to all his mates and helpers – including even his wife's hairdresser I believe.
“Alexei, my personal opinion is that it should not be a problem. Just allow me to refer back to my masters.” Yasso is actually smiling. Sort of.
“Excellent, Jason,” says Alexei, patting Yasso on the back. “My brother will be very pleased. And he will carry out all his lordly duties with great zeal.”
Yasso nods his head violently. I leave, bowing slightly to the old crone.
Back in my office, I can no longer hold in the laughter. One of the girls opens the door.
“Everything alright, Jason?”
My laughter is because I am imagining the scene when Yasso, stary eyes and crimped red hair to his shoulders, turns up for the first time at the House of Lords. Maybe with his Mama. But on second thoughts the other Lords are pretty weird too, judging by the BBC Parliament TV programme. And all of them picking up £300 a day of tax-payers' money. Good job there's only 900 of them or the country would be truly skint.
I call the Chief Whip to tell him the good news.
“I shouldn't think the PM would have a problem with making him a Lord,” he says.
So I ask the key question.
“What's so important about 105, Victoria Street?”
“Ah. Well. Um. It houses the national headquarters of the Labour Party. Strictly between us, the PM will ask the Krovs to terminate the Labour Party's lease just before the upcoming election. Which will certainly cause chaos for them and entirely mess up their electioneering. That's her plan.”
Needless to say, Yasso soon got his much-desired Lordship.
Sorry, this is too much for satire...
WHAT HAPPENS WHEN WE BREXIT?
'ARMAGEDDON' SAYS DOVER PORT AUTHORITY
'CATASTROPHIC' SAYS NATIONAL FARMERS UNION
'A BLACK HOLE, A SHOCK, PAINFUL, HOUSHOLDS IN GREATER DEBT' THIRD COUNTRY STATUS' PREDICT OTHER ORGANISATIONS
AND ....... 'THE BIGGEST UNKNOWN'
SAYS GOVERNMENT BRIEFING PAPER!
AND THE GOVERNMENT ALSO SAYS: 'WE ARE FULFILLING THE WISHES OF THE BRITISH PEOPLE'
BUT - DID THE BRITISH PEOPLE VOTE FOR:
EVERYTHING MORE EXPENSIVE INCLUDING FOOD, CARS, FUELS, SHORTAGES, REDUNDANCIES, FACTORIES CLOSING,
SOLDIERS ON THE STREETS....
SAYING GOOD BYE TO £487 BILLION OF TRADE WITH THE EU AND THEN COSYING UP TO 162 W.T.O COUNTRIES WHO KNOW
WE NEED THEM MORE THAN THEY NEED US.
NOT TO MENTION LESS MONEY FOR THE POLICE AND THE NHS – BECAUSE: BRITAIN IS ALREADY BROKE.
NATIONAL DEBT £2.3 TRILLION,
BANK BALANCE £114 BILLION IN THE RED.
WERE WE TOLD ANYTHING?
WERE WE TOLD THE TRUTH ABOUT OUR FUTURE? NO?
IS THAT DEMOCRATIC? CAN WE NOT TRUST OUR LEADERS?
UNDER THESE CIRCUMSTANCES A STRONG CASE CAN BE MADE FOR CHARGING THEM WITH TREASON
The definition of Treason is betraying one's country
and its people.....
A Secret Ministerial Conversation.... …...between the Prime Minister and the Chancellor of the Exchequer
PM: I've always been clear that I want to maintain our country's finances in sparkling condition...so that those Europeans cannot gloat when we leave. Now, give me a brief summary of the current situation.
PM: Get on with it, man!
CE: Well, Prime Minister. Our National Debt is at this moment £2.13 trillion.
CE: Second only in size to that of the US.
PM: Great Heavens. When did that happen? How did it get like that?
CE: It's been happening for a long time now. No government seems capable of reducing it. In fact, every government just borrows more and more.
PM: Can't we pay it down somehow?
CE: Unfortunately, no. Our current bank balance is actually £114 billion in the red.
PM: What! Are you sure? Have you done your sums right?
CE: Yes, Prime Minister. I have.
PM: Well. They won't increase so long as I'm Prime Minister!
CE: In that case, with respect, you won't be able to give any more money to the NHS or the Police. To do that, we would have to increase our borrowing.
PM: I give up! I should have been running this country a long time ago to avoid this catastrophe! Let me think. How can I please the voters in case there's another election soon? I know. Fill in all the pot-holes throughout the country. Not just Westminster's streets.
CE: Well, Prime Minister. That would cost £30 billion.
PM: That does it! I'm not fighting the next election. Somebody else can....
At a recent Cabinet meeting, the Prime Minister led her team in a rousing chorus of 'Rule Britannia'. It went like this:
Rule Britannia, Britannia rule the waves!
Britons never shall be EU slaves!
Whilst we shall flourish great and free,
Our cities shall with commerce shine,
But nations not so blest as we
Will enter into long decline.
Blest Isle, with superb leaders crowned
That haughty tyrants cannot tame.
No foreign foot shall tread our ground
Where burns our freedom's cherished flame!
Rule Britannia, Britannia rule the waves,
Never, never, never EU slaves!
BREXIT - HOUSE OF COMMONS PUNCH-UP!
BREXIT - unusual NEGOTIATIONS
BORIS - THE HR REPORT
EU REGULATIONS DO NOT APPLY HERE
TRIDENT NUCLEAR SUB - THE P.M. VISITS
MPs - HOW TO READ THEM....
THE NHS - SATAN DOESN'T LIKE IT
DICKENS, CONAN DOYLE, CHILD - LOST MANUSCRIPTS re-discovered in old carry-on bag
A VISION OF ENGLAND IN 2022.
Out of the EU
NHS fully privatised
State schools run by business
90% of workers on zero hour contracts
Workers' employment rights slashed
60% of children live below poverty line
45,000 food banks
Human Rights Act scrapped
Ditto climate change
VAT increased to 32.5%
Tax avoidance legally accepted
London skyscrapers top world league
27th in prosperity league - down from 9th in 201
Passports introduced for all residents north of Watford
Kensington and Chelsea given tax-free status
MPs number 1750 and Lords 3000
National Debt reaches £7 trillion
The Westminster Vigilante Strikes Again!
For More Revelations Visit
AND FOR THE DISCERNING READER:
'THERESA, BORIS AND ME, JASON.
THE GOVERNMENT'S TOP SALESMAN TELLS ALL'
(AS TOLD TO JOHN PROBLEM)
A RIVETING ACCOUNT OF HOW governments SOLD OFF BRITAIN TO PAY THE INTEREST ON THE NATIONAL DEBT.....
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