Taking back power

Welcome to the brave new ‘global’ Britain, Brexit free. Jacque Foreigner will no longer straighten our bananas with impunity. Prime Minister May and Chancellor Farage have taken the country back, back (to the 18th century). A land where the old Monty Python ‘we were so poor’ sketch will be something grandchildren can repeat to their grandparents in reverse, without having to exaggerate.

Things being what they are, we’ve raised the pension age to 80. This serves a number of purposes, but mainly it saves us ever having to subsidise most of these cretins who haven’t got shares in multinationals or a squirrelled away pile locked up and making profits in the Cayman Islands.

How dare they think they can work all of their lives and then retire on a modest income. No, most of that shower will clock out to visit their local branch of Funebudget well before the date they become a burden to our glorious state. They are doing quite well are Funebudget. I must remember to check that share price. They started as a same day loan company, and then branched out, knocked up a few faux pine boxes, add some fake brass handles, and Bob’s your furnace’s firelighter so to speak, and still at a very tidy profit.

We don’t have that much gainful employment for the dodderers who are unfortunate enough to survive until they are that age so we’ve extended the old ‘Clean For The Queen’ scheme that was so popular around the time of her Majesty’s year and a half long 90th Birthday celebration. Yes public loos everywhere have never looked cleaner, and they do a smashing job scraping the pigeon shit off the pavement in Knightsbridge and South Kensington. Although Pippa Cartwright did tell me at Squiggy Carrington’s cocktail party that she’d tripped over a dead one outside Waitrose the other day, nearly took the heel off her shoe, unfortunate that.

We’ve also now commenced what looks like will be a very successful ‘Work For Victory’ programme. That gets the other layabouts under 65 away from their flat screen Jeremy Kyle box sets and out into the fresh air, digging holes and filling them in again, and building the perimeter fences around the 500 new patriotic service bases we are building to house our newly established regiments of global peacekeepers, a self-appointed responsibility we’ve burdened ourselves with, jointly with our great friends Trump Inc, as part of taking back power. This will be a real winner and will support our policy of perpetual conflict with……. anybody, it doesn’t really matter who, although having oil and gas potential, or mineral resources, or even just a nice painting we would like, puts you high up the visitation list for what we like to call a ‘Gotcha’, technically a cruise missile or an air strike.

The weekly street parties are going well too. We give the prolls Sunday afternoon off between noon and six pm. It’s actually quite quaint.They all spruce themselves up, having had baths in front of the fire in their quaint little hovels, cleaning the muck off as much as they can, and then gather on their B&Q plastic furniture in the streets for some communal singing, corned beef sandwiches and trifle. Each week on a Saturday night a lottery decides which party gets a special visitor. It’s great for the country’s morale to see the likes of the Princess Regent Camilla turn up at Macclesfield with Nicholas and a crew from the good old BBC, and being swamped by an adoring prompt-carded crowd of locals. Sometimes she can even look like she’s enjoying it.


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