Wrong Side for a Street

There is more than one way to execute a rodentine maritime evacuation manoeuvre. One can charge crudely for the lifeboats, elbowing aside the women and children while trumpeting one's devotion to duty and humble pleasure in public service; or one can pull in one's scaly tail, dye one's fur a pleasanter shade, temporarily forego the perks that accrue to a messenger boy for the plague, and pretend to be a hamster. One or two staunch Conservatives have taken the latter course, including Brand Andy, the mayor of the West Midlands. Brand Andy describes himself as more of a businessman than a politician, presumably in order to differentiate himself from Fishy Rishi, whose business connections are purely marital and therefore nearly as negligible as his political skills. Brand Andy is also pushing himself as a rebellious sort who stands up to Westminster: a line also taken by my own soon-to-be-erstwhile expenses claimant, who trumpeted his independence from Westminster shortly before taking a job as a whip for the National Johnson. Brand Andy's defiance of Westminster has so far consisted of calmly accepting Fishy Rishi's cancelling of HS2, though whether he did so as a result of his political instincts or his commercial ones remains as yet unclear. For the moment Brand Andy and others are removing from their propaganda all mention of the party they proudly support, while hoping to crawl back into office on a delicate combination of personal charm and voter stupidity. If one didn't know better, one might think they had something to be embarrassed about.

Worthy of Our Trust

While Britain's unelected peers continue to obstruct the Rwanda transportation bill with their insistence on, of all things, conformity with the law, the nation's partner in wog disposal seems to have acquired an enviable set of British values to go with all that money. Rwanda's president commemorated the thirtieth anniversary of his country's non-meritorious genocide by attending a football match, while his government told ordinary citizens to restrict their activities to the sober and non-frivolous. The moral affinity with His Majesty's Government shone forth brighter still when a Rwandan government spokesbeing blamed the police. According to a Downing Street anonymoid, Paul Kagame "was here to see the football and came in to see the prime minister," casually taking a break from recreation to drop in and discuss what is, after all, merely Fishy Rishi's flagship policy. With all these cultural advantages allied to a no-nonsense, can-do attitude to political opposition and 98.8% of the vote at his last election, it is scarcely surprising that His Majesty's Government considers the president such a safe pair of hands.

Charity Cakeism

Much to the annoyance of the global south, and apparently somewhat to the surprise of Britain's leading liberal newspaper, the global north has provided little support for the mitigation of the climate catastrophe despite being largely responsible for the problem. In equally unfathomable fashion, the Government whose current leader sees public office largely as a means of helping his relatives dodge their taxes has been fiddling the figures on climate aid. Even the reduction of the international workhouse pittance from the giddy generosity of seven-tenths of one per cent of the nation's credit card thrift bonus has proven insufficiently prudent for the party of La Truss and the National Johnson; so His Majesty's Government has substituted repackaging for reimbursement and has called some already-paid money something else instead. Baron Goldsmith of Richmond Park, whose pitch for mayor of London was that Sadiq Khan was an Islamist fiend who would rob hard-working Hindoos of their sacred bling, and whose quickness on the uptake evidently rivals that of Britain's leading liberal newspaper, has voiced concerns that such behaviour might adversely affect Albion's unrivalled international reputation for straight talk, square dealing and civilised values.

Wisdom, Justice and Motheration

Since the Christian state of Georgia ranks forty-third out of the fifty in looking after the health of actual children, the fact of its offering tax breaks for uterine-resident Murcans should come as no surprise. As proof that God helps those who help themselves, the state has balanced its pious prohibition on abortion beyond six weeks' gestation with a chance for fleshly incubators who carry their foetus past that point to claim the tail-toting tadpole as a "dependent minor" with corresponding deductions from the tax bill. Lest such interference with Nature be seen as creeping socialism and pandering to the workshy (there is a significant statistical correlation between being unemployed and being unborn), the deduction is worth less than $200 and has been funded by cutting programmes intended to benefit the merely extant.

This Time They Have Surely Gone Too Far

As with the US assassination of General Qasem Soleimani four years ago, the mad mullahs of Tehran have exercised a truly evil degree of restraint in their retaliation for the Righteous State's bombing of the Iranian consulate in Damascus. Most of the drones were shot down, the damage to Western colonial property was minor and Iran has stated that it considers the matter concluded, thereby proving its status as an existential threat to the Netanyahoo administration, which would much prefer the expediency of a regional conflagration doubtless leading handily to an Enabling Act. The mad mullahs even went so far as to contrast their attack with the Righteous State's assault on the Palestinians, thereby wilfully ignoring the vital distinction between states which are allowed to have legitimate security concerns and states which are not, and between the cycle of violence which began out of a blue sky last October and the peace process which has been going on since 1967.

The Company She Keeps

Team Starmer, whose main objection to far-right policies seems to be their lack of fiscal prudence, has come over all moralistic about a far-right politician attending a gathering of far-right politicians. In a re-writing of history worthy of his Dear Leader's fellow purger and centraliser Stalin, the shadow paymaster general even invoked Winston Churchill, who thought Indians were beastly and liked to snigger about Hottentots getting the vote. The shadow paymaster general, whose front-bench colleagues write for the Sun and Mail, has called upon Fishy Rishi to prevent one of his erstwhile Home Secretaries rubbing shoulders with the likes of Viktor Orbán. Despite his open racism and authoritarianism, the Hungarian prime minister has rather sullied the Britishness of his values by supporting the wrong side in the Ukraine war. Another luminary, Hans-Georg Maaßen, has compared migrants with cancer; while one Rod Dreher has diagnosed white-genocide paranoia by the eminently Blairite phrase "legitimate, realistic concerns." Given that such pronouncements have been standard Home Office discourse for at least a decade and a half, it hardly seems that any of these worthies, let alone their fellow-travellers among the master race, has much legitimacy to gain from hob-nobbing with Suella Braverman.

Alien Invader

It appears that there are more Conservatives in Scotland than previously thought, although it took a molecular fungal ecologist to discover the latest one. Its allegiance is evident from its blue and white colouring, which obviously should be scrupulously distinguished from that of the Scots saltire. In this case the colours represent Conservative values in both skin colour and moral character: the blue is the glorious facial mottling of habitual and continuous apoplectic rage, while the white flags up the party's traditional attitude of swooning surrender to money, demagoguery and snobbery. It's notable that this particular species favours the Alps, a region centred on banking and bordering four countries (five counting Vichy) which were all making loud noises about duty, patriotism and hard-working families during the historical period inhabited by the average Conservative mentality. Like all Scots Tories, the new discovery is "incredibly rare globally," and has a co-dependent relationship with dense monocultures often considered ecologically dead; but it does seem a little ironic that one of the last, and presumably one of the more intelligent, Conservatives in Scotland should also be an immigrant in danger of expulsion.

Tory Enablers

Is there no end to the depravity of the metropolitan middle-class lefty antisemites? Despite Team Starmer having spent several years making clear exactly whose votes it prefers to receive and exactly whose votes it would be morally indignant to suffer; despite Team Starmer's trashing of its climate pledges and vaunting of Zionist war crimes; despite Team Starmer's endless full-throated avowals that the plan is to change little or nothing, it appears that certain people may yet have the unmitigated gall to consider withholding their votes from Team Starmer. This is unlikely to affect the outcome of the forthcoming general election, beyond depriving Labour of a few seats which Team Starmer presumably considers excessively tainted with non-working people; but it remains as yet unclear whether the present grand electoral coalition will be sufficiently enthused for a Team Starmer incumbency after four or five years of business as usual.

Native Deterrence

If the social and moral purity of the British race is to be properly maintained, then self-evidently stopping the small boats is only a partial solution. It is all very well to prevent migrants from diluting the Britishness of our economy by attending our universities or paying tax into our exchequer; but what of those precious resources among our own British stock who may one day venture abroad and succumb to the exotic wiles of the foreign? Happily, the ever-vigilant Ministry for Wog Prevention is raising the price of the iconic French-made Polish-assembled blue passport for the second time in fourteen months; so patriotic Britons can rejoice in their freedom from alien contamination, as well as in the ever-diminishing danger of of too many poor people having photo ID in an election year.

Flavour the Heretic

With all the camels to be swallowed these days, it is only natural that a few minions of the Most High should be straining at a TV commercial designed to sell potato crisps. The Italian advert combines crunchy nunsploitation with what its makers call "strong British irony" (in fact, some little time ago a British brand called KP did advertise its own crisps using some rather endearing cartoon monks, to minimal theological discomfort). The depiction of crisps being substituted for the Host has enraged several people and a newspaper, the latter on the intriguing grounds that the transubstantiation of the Saviour's flesh into anything but the official recipe is equivalent to the scourging, the thorns and the nailing-up.