Hate Britain – how Theresa May’s ‘hostile environment’ conspired to ruin the lives of a young family.

In 2012, fearing the rise of UKIP and wishing to satiate the hunger of an increasingly rabid right wing press the Tory government implemented a ‘hostile environment’ immigration policy. The aim was to stem the flow of migrants into the UK by making it hard to come here, stay here or even wish to be here – while feeding off the festering tide of bigotry then taking grip in Britain – even as we prepared for the Olympics.

Home Secretary Theresa May, Britain’s most famous church goer, even boasted that she would ‘deport first and hear appeals later’ – while her department introduced a new and stringent set of rules on family migration into the UK.

As ‘Go Home’ vans toured the regions – ordinary lives were torn apart.

Among the many people affected were Andy and Molly Russell. Andy a TEFL teacher had met Molly (born Lili Shao) while working in China. Having married and had two children the couple had settled near Bath and were building a life together, even as the regulations were brought in. TEFL is a massive sector in the UK – employing thousands of mostly young graduates and adding around £1.6 billion to the UK economy (more than fishing). The benefits of a TEFL teacher’s life include the possibility of travel and potentially stimulating work – but nobody ever got rich in the profession and Andy was struggling to bring in the £18,600 which was now required if his wife was to be allowed to stay in Britain.

It was not to be.

Eventually Molly was obliged to leave the UK, Andy and her two small children, Dylan then aged 5 and Devon then 3 – and return to China.

The family spent the next year communicating via Skype and Molly became known as ‘computer Mummy’. For a year she was separated from both her husband and her two kids as Andy worked frantically to secure enough money to allow her to return. Eventually the hurdles were cleared and she was able to come back. That was in 2013.

The Russells now have three children – having had Charlie in the intervening years.

Last week, after over five years in limbo and having spent thousands of pounds on visas and paperwork, Molly’s application for indefinite leave was turned down. Despite providing evidence he had earned a salary significantly above the threshold every year since 2013…. despite proof from HMRC that national insurance and tax had been paid… despite bank statements, letters from employers, and independent verification from an accredited accountant – the Home Office turned them down. Their conclusion that Andy’s earnings were £100 below the £18,600 threshold is hotly contested by the Russells – but what hope is there for one family against the might of a faceless bureaucracy.

Now the Russells and their 3 children face more anxiety and uncertainty and the very real risk of separation.

The stress of this has naturally overwhelmed them both and taken a huge mental toll. They are obliged to begin the whole procedure over again and face more years of mental and financial torture.

Since tweeting about this at the weekend I have received emails and DMs from many other people in similar circumstances. It seems that despite her protestations of Christian faith – to fall in love and yet fall below a financial threshold in Theresa May’s Britain is to render yourself unworthy of living here. Your life and the lives of your children and loved ones are of no value – and you must be split up – returned to square one on the snakes and ladders of the immigration process.

Andy has said in a series of FB messages that he doesn’t seek publicity – or want it – all the Russells want is what anyone with young children – or indeed any of us want. The chance to live our lives. Security, a roof over our heads and the chance to get on with raising our kids – but in Brexit Britain that’s clearly a demand too far.

I have written many times before about how this otherwise great country seems intent on turning itself into a vile, mean spirited and horrid little place. The long term project to replace Great Britain with Hate Britain seems to be winning out – and Molly, Andy, Devon, Dylan and Charlie are but five of its sacrificial victims.

There’s a go fund me here.

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Brexit Spam: As the Un-civil War rumbles on the only growth industry is terrible Brexit analogies.

I was accused last week of coming up with too many shitty Brexit analogies and so on that basis and in keeping with my mission statement – here are a few more.

Brexit Britain increasingly resembles that Monty Python sketch where a couple go into a café and are offered spam with everything. People don’t want to hear about it. Many seek actively to avoid it – but short of sealing yourself in a bunker on Rockall and stuffing your ears with cement there’s no escaping it.

Brexit’s so ubiquitous, that you half expect to see it on the weather.

“Brexit will sweep in from the East this morning. A few backstops elsewhere but into the West mostly hard, while there’ll be a cold front of manufacturing heading out from the North and into the Continent.”

In the two years since the UK voted to quit the EU, the ‘B’ word has come to infuse everything – like a rancid cheese in your fridge or dog shit that you can’t get out of the treading of your shoes.

Brexit is like graffiti. It hangs around in bus shelters, it sullies up the place. It lurks in stairwells and commuter trains threatening to rob you of your sanity. It rubs off on your coat. It’s ugly and costly. Look up from your phone and it is there and with Theresa May’s deal set to fail there is no sight of escape any time soon.

For two and half years, the topic has dominated our politics, our friendships, our social interactions. I have Remain voting acquaintances who have blocked their own parents on Facebook because of it. I’ve fallen out with old mates. We long ago stopped talking to Grandad about it. Brexit has become less and less about politics and the pros and cons of membership of a trade bloc and more and more like a civil war.

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Brexit – Naseby with tweets

Say that of course and you get accused of over-stating the current divisions and pushing your Brexit analogies too far – but I’m sorry that’s what it is. It is a civil war. If these events had unfolded in the 17th century, we would have spent the last two years firing musket shot at each other, shoving pikes up one another’s arses and hanging people from trees rather than tweeting angrily at Newsnight. It’s brother against brother, daughter against mother, neighbour against neighbour, region against region. It’s toxic, it’s acrimonious and at times it has spilled into actual violence.

In 2016, even the most die-hard Brexiter or Remainer couldn’t have predicted that we would be fighting this mêlée of madness two and a half years later. Yes, nobody ever promised that it would ‘all be over by Christmas’ but few could have guessed that the lines for the most part wouldn’t have broken. Far from it. If anything, as the ‘war’ has progressed the fronts have become far more entrenched. Both sides have dug in. Pyrrhic victories have been claimed as major breakthroughs that will end deadlock once and for all – but nothing really has changed….. apart from this one thing – most people in the country are sick to fucking death of it all and long for peace.

In war the biggest victims tend to be the civilian populations. In most conflicts they are the ones who are killed by rampaging armies shortly after their homes have been burnt to the ground. In this war they risk being bored to death.  As Westminster continues to wage its internecine battle aided and abetted by the news and commentariat there is a whole nation out there that is being ignored even as it is bombarded with raining tins of Brexit Spam. The all-encompassing fog of the battle has suffocated engagement on all the other stuff. Education, NHS funding, climate change, social mobility, the division between rich and poor.

Occasionally Jeremy Corbyn sticks his wizened old head out like a soporific tortoise and tries to talk about Venezuela – but that’s about it in terms of variety.

The Conservatives have now been in power for seven and a half years – half of which has been spent on Brexit. And here’s the rub – the topic itself is a wholly unnecessary project – of no benefit to woman, man or beast. It is a folly. A hunt for the Snark, a waste of time, of energy and money that could have been better expended on things of actual benefit to the people of Great Britain.

As we – and yes I include humble me in this – blab on and on about Brext – the silent majority are increasingly war-weary and tired of the very mention of the word. As MPs hold yet another debate and the whole omnishambolic cavalcade of shit rumbles into another year – most Britons just wish it would stop.

Still – at least the Brexit analogy sector is a growth industry huh.

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Theresa May’s Brexit Christmas Carol

Brexit Britain was dead. There was no doubt about that. Doctor Fox had believed it would recover – but belief was not enough. Old May had signed Article 50.

As she trudged through the snow back to her lodgings, Mrs May passed men carrying gammons and others who were managing to walk by themselves. The rest of the Cabinet and parliament may have gone on holiday for two weeks at the height of the greatest political crisis in history – but there was no rest for Old May.

The fog and frost so hung about the old gateway that it seemed as if the genius of Brexit himself was haunting the door. But it was nearly midnight and David Davis would still be eating lunch. Gove – lurched out of the shadows – clutching at a bag of straws.

“A Merry Brexit Christmas Mrs May!” Young Michael yelled.

“What do you want?” May growled as she approached, “probably hoping for a day off tomorrow on account of it being……”

“Why yes Mrs May ….it’s just Tiny Tim Martin and some of the boys from the ERG are having a lunch in Wetherspoons – no brussels and chlorinated chicken – I was rather hoping I might go.”

“Bah Strasbourg!” Old May hated Christmas, “go but you won’t be getting any OBEs however much you smarm up to me. Anyway – we’ve run out of metal.”

The Old House at Number 10 was cold and dark and May had no appetite for gruel that evening. She climbed the winding stairway past the portraits of old Prime Ministers – glaring down at her. As she passed each by it seemed to come alive.

“Boooooo!” Atlee jeered.

“Where’s your Dunkirk spirit!” Churchill added.

“Don’t look at me for support – you’ve made a right pig’s ear of things!” Thatcher chipped in. “I’ll be confiscating your Christmas milk.”

Old May climbed into her nightgown and blew out the candle. But just then a cellar door burst open and there were creaking footsteps on the stairs. The bedroom door was pushed aside and into the room stepped John Major – dressed from head to toe in a suit of the purest grey.

May had often heard it said that Major had no balls – but now he was surrounded by them – clanking at the length of a long chain.

“You’ve been ignoring my many appearances on the Andrew Marr television programme and other similar news and current affairs outlets.” Major began – smelling distinctly of curry.

“Dreadful vision!” Old May screamed – falling to her knees.

“Well a bit unfair – I mean Marr does do his best!”

“No youuuuu. Yoooouuuu. Why do you haunt me so? And why are you fettered to that heap of balls?”

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Major’s ghost and his Terry Major Balls

“I wear the chain I forged in office.” Major replied. “That pink one is Portillo fresh from another one of his train journeys, that lightweight one is Peter Lilley and the others are all Michael Howard. Beware the IDS of March the 29th……..”

“But isn’t that something else altogether….”

“Silence woman! In the course of this evening you will be visited by three ghosts – and now I must away…..”

May followed him to the window – desperate in her curiosity – but Major was gone – seeping seamlessly into a paving stone.

Presently she felt a cold wind behind her and turned. Standing alone in the midst of her bedroom was an odd figure – like a child yet not so like a child as an old man. Jacob Rees-Mogg looked about himself and muttered:

“A pity it is a terrace. Still I suppose it will do for Nanny.”

“Oh spirit of the night – what do you want of me?”

“I am the ghost of Christmas past!” Jacob intoned. “Come to show you how wonderful everything was before it was ruined by progress.”

He swept her in his top hat and soon they alighted by a Victorian workhouse. Inside children – some as young as five – worked away shoeless at metal lathes.

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Christmas past – happy urchins working hard

“Can you see what socialized welfare, health and safety and education for ‘ordinary people’ has done?” Jacob implored softly as another child’s pals gathered round in a spirit of goodwill to carry his dismembered arm out of the workhouse and throw him out after it. “These children had purpose and jobs as chimney sweeps until such time as they died of diphtheria or bullet holes – but now their descendants sit about the place getting fat on hamburgers and not knowing one end of a rifle from another.”

“OH what happiness there is!” May agreed – taking in the scene.

She turned – but Rees Mogg had gone – spirited away in a Bentley and in his place was a hideous ogre of a man – so revolting that Old May let out a scream.

“Oh what monster is this?”

“My name is Rupert Murdoch.” The festering apparition managed – extending a withered hand. “Here to show you the Hard Brexit Christmas yet to come.”

“But I was promised three ghosts!” May yelled. “Where are the three ghosts I was promised?”

“It’s the Brexit dividend!” Murdoch shot back “we lied.”

Soon they were riding high above the clouds – until in the distance they saw white cliffs and blue birds and green hills and a ring of unicorns dancing in a circle while Boris Johnson sang Walking in the Air from the peak of a giant tin of Spam.

There were no queues at Dover – the roads were full – yes – but traffic was moving swiftly towards brightly coloured steam ships. And beneath them happy, smiling people – all driving Morris Oxfords waved gaily up at Mrs May while a formation of Spitfires flew overhead.

“God bless you Theresa May!” They cried as one. “Thank you for this wonderful hard Brexit and our blue passports and tins of racist jam!”

And there dotted about the countryside happy Grenadier Guardsmen sat drinking cups of piping hot tea and eating spoonfuls of marmalade – while girls in bright dresses danced about Maypoles.

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Hard Brexit heaven

“You see!” Murdoch whispered in her ear. “It’s a kind of heaven.”

And the music played on and cartoon penguins were dancing and May danced among them. It was all so lovely – so marvelous so –

May awoke and blinked. She was lying in a bus shelter on the Catford gyratory being poked with a stick by a man in a yellow vest.

At the ERG luncheon Tiny Tim Martin and his chums agreed it had been the best Christmas lunch ever at that particular Wetherspoons on that day of that year.

“But next year!” Michael Gove piped up, “someone else can put acid in Theresa May’s tea.”

Death Stars, fish questionnaires and a thriving lightsabre sector: ERG unveils alternative Chequer’s plan.

Jacob Rees-Mogg and his 80 strong European Research Group have deemed Theresa May’s Chequer’s Plan “unworkable.” Here is the leaked draft of their more feasible alternative.

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A British Death Star for a British future

Death Star

Anyone who has seen the documentary series ‘Star Wars’ will be aware of the challenges facing well-intentioned ‘Empires’ wishing to reassert themselves in difficult times. As such, the ERG advocates investing the money we would otherwise send to Brussels in an enormous ‘Death Star.’ This grand project will need skilled workers, IT consultants and – crucially – give a much needed boost to innovative new ray gun and light sabre sectors. The fully costed “Death Star” policy forms a central plank of the ERG proposals. Why should the United Kingdom be tied to the failing “Planet Earth” project when there is a whole galaxy out there to trade with?

Northern Ireland

Northern Ireland existed before the European Union and Northern Ireland will continue to exist after we leave – whatever the carnage that might follow. People who are worried about Northern Ireland are whimpering ‘Remoaners’ and that is all that needs to be said about that.

Fishing

In future – all fish caught in the waters of seas bordering the British Isles will be given a short interview in French, Icelandic, Norwegian and Spanish. If they can answer all 50 questions faultlessly, then they will be handed to the trawlermen of those respective nations. If not – they will be assumed to be British and taken forthwith to Grimsby or one of those other ghastly places.

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Fish who successfully pass the ‘fishing test’ will be allowed to end up in British stomachs

The Falkland Islands

No single issue preoccupies the Great British People more than the inherent wickedness of the wretched Argies and the security of the Falkland Islands. Once we have left the failing European Union there will be plenty of money to invest. While we await completion of the Death Star that will eventually eviscerate South America, the ERG recommends pumping £18 trillion into the archipelago – teaching Johnny Argie a much needed lesson. Our shipwrights will build a vast armada of dreadnoughts which will circle the islands around the clock until such time as an enormous and impenetrable steel dome can be placed on top of the South Atlantic.

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Spitting Image’s correctly rendered map of the world

The NHS/Housing

A quick poll of ERG MPs reveals that not only do none of us use the NHS but neither do our nannies. It is outrageous therefore that billions of pounds are wasted every year on this white elephant for people who are too lazy (or poor) to buy private medical insurance. Post Brexit the ERG recommends issuing every adult in the United Kingdom with a “doctor’s certificate” spontaneously making some 40 million people “doctors.” These highly qualified individuals will then be able to treat themselves and their loved ones – allowing most of the hospitals in the UK to be demolished and rebuilt as private homes – thus solving the housing crisis.

Global trade

While the UK has been enjoying hundreds of billions of pounds of failing tariff free trade with the dwindling EU we have been overlooking potentially enormous deals with Pitcairn island and parts of East Timor. In future the ERG hopes that all of our commerce will be done with these mighty nations and their burgeoning economies. We will buy their stamps and bread fruit and they will buy our light sabres. Then Mr Barnier will be sorry!

A Time Machine

The past was a simpler era, where people knew their place. The rich man lived in his castle while the poor man dwelled with dozens of horrid children, a wife who was too afraid to speak and tuberculosis. There was little need for contraceptives or labour exchanges as ‘mortality’ kept the population under control! Having perfected the Death Star technology the ERG proposes to spend whatever is left on a vast “time machine” that will take us all back to 1910. It was a golden age of cream teas, vicars and a healthy hatred of the HUN when the only black people one saw existed in prints in beautifully bound encyclopaedias and delightful ‘golliwog’ nursery tales. The summers will be endless, the great estates will flourish – and critically our young men will have the chance once more to have their horribly mutilated corpses buried in neat rows before their 21st birthdays.

God Save the King!

Putin’s Lord Haw Haws – why does the UK continue to tolerate Russian propagandists and useful idiots?

Theresa May delivered a sombre assessment yesterday on the attack on Russian defector Sergei Skripal, his daughter Yulia and the valiant police officer Detective Sergeant Nick Bailey, who went to their aid when they were poisoned with toxic nerve agent – Novichok. Mrs May told MPs it was ‘highly likely’ that the Russian State was responsible for the “brazen attempt to murder citizens on our soil” and has given the Putin government until midnight tonight (13th March 2018) to respond. If no reply is forthcoming the Prime Minister has indicated that the government will conclude that this attack was a deliberate “unlawful use of force” by Russia.

The Russian state’s response so far has been predictably dismissive and the wheels of propaganda swiftly turned. Mrs May’s comments were ‘provocative’ and a ‘circus show in the British parliament.’

This is but the latest in a string of bizarre deaths and assassination attempts in the UK of former Russian spies and emigres – most famously Alexander Litvinenko. In the past the UK government has been accused of ‘turning a blind eye’ to these attacks and this perhaps has emboldened the FSB/agents of the Kremlin to the extent that they feel they can brashly murder people in broad daylight on the streets of Salisbury – and put hundreds of British lives at risk in the process.

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Vladimir Putin on RT

Anyone who cares about Britain should be deeply concerned about this – and Russia’s dismissive and discourteous unwillingness to co-operate. This attack is terrorism plain and simple and whoever is behind it should be brought to justice. If the protagonist is the machine of the Russian state then there is no comparable assault on our nation by a major country in modern times.

Incredibly however, since the poisoning of Skripal, his daughter and Nick Bailey on the 4th of March – some of the loudest self-professed patriots in the land have been strangely silent. Nigel Farage, for example, has made just two mentions of the events in his twitter feed. Once – when publicising his LBC show and once (indirectly) when asked by Kevin Maguire whether he still venerated Vladimir Putin. Farage is on record as saying that Mr Putin is the world leader he most admires and has appeared many times on the Russian State propaganda channel RT – even being offered his own show. But ‘straight talking Nigel’ declined to give a straight answer.

In the two LBC shows in which Farage has (presumably been obliged) to discuss Skripal – he has been very careful indeed not to criticise the Russian leader and suggested, instead that Mrs May should reach out to him, sit down with him and ‘thrash it out.’ Mr Farage – who for years has branded Mrs May ‘Theresa the appeaser’ has clearly never looked up the word ‘irony’ in his dictionary.

Nigel is not alone in his near silence on Skripal. Arron Banks’ Westmonster ‘has made one brief mention of it; right wing website Breitbart London – edited by UKIP acolyte Raheem Kassam has, between dozens of tweets and articles about rampant knife crime in Sadiq’s London, made two. One of those focused mainly on criticism of the UK government’s handling of events. Across the board, the majority of what might be termed ‘Brexit accounts’ have spent the week bleating about a Canadian right wing extremist, Lauren Southern, being denied entry to the UK for her views (yes I know). The few tweets Westmonster and others have sent have left trails of comments beneath them from dim witted ‘nationalists’ and obvious Russian trolls blaming the attack on (variously) the Jews, Soros, or the British authorities themselves. There is also a widely circulated rumour doing the rounds that as Porton Down is just a few miles from Salisbury – MI6 did it.

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George Galloway – useful idiot?

By contrast to his fellow Grassroots Out colleagues, former MP George Galloway has been anything but silent. His twitter feed has been buzzing with conspiracy theories and with good reason. With all those ex-wives, Galloway has bills to pay and as Putin’s highest paid propagandist he is obviously putting in some overtime. You see gorgeous George Galloway earns hundreds of thousands of pounds fronting his show on the RT channel where he is ever willing to do his paymaster’s bidding.

The one thing all of these useful idiots are absolutely certain about is this – that the most obvious suspect – Vladimir Putin – the one holding the massive smoking gun – the one who swore revenge on all traitors and double agents and said that they would tracked down and killed – is innocent or at least ‘not proven to be guilty and thus not guilty’.

For years, the Russian state has had the West for fools. The country may have oligarchs bursting at the seams, but it has very little money and fairly weak actual military capability. It has instead managed to extend its power, muscle and influence through misinformation and highly effective propaganda. Like an old style Lada, AK47 or T-34 tank Russia has made a virtue of simplicity. Why spend billions of roubles on nuclear submarines when – for a fraction of the cost you can sow discontent, fear and division among your enemies. Russia Today – the glossy flagship of Kremlin deception – has created memes and tropes that dance at the edges of our political discourse and often tip into the mainstream. The myth that the EU caused mass unemployment in the South of Europe for example or the ‘no go zones’ in Londinistan or the idea that Sweden is overrun with murderous rampaging Muslim jihadis are all RT tropes. Now to be fair – they are very good at this – the true masters of fake news and there is a steady line of journalists, politicians (of all hues) and pundits willing to take the fee and feed the machine. But depressingly – there is a much wider contingent of gullible fools willing to lap it all up.

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UK Porton Down facility

The Russian state has long targeted the EU in particular – because the EU poses a direct threat to her dimming power. Brexit worked in Putin’s favour. We know that Marine Le Pen’s anti-EU Front National received money directly from the Kremlin. It can hardly be a coincidence that so many at the centre of the Brexit storm have links or expressed admiration for Vlad – how deep those links go and to what extent they compromise the integrity of Farage and others has yet to be fully established but the whiff of cordite is in the air.

What is patently obvious and what the Skripal incident nimbly underlines, is that the loyalty of these self-professed ‘patriots’ to Great Britain plays second fiddle to their unwillingness to criticise Russia even when (apparently) the Kremlin is trying to murder citizens and snuff out any hapless passers-by on the streets of England. Some serious questions need to be asked about how long OFCOM will allow RT to broadcast its misinformation into UK homes but the bigger question is this – just how loyal are these fellow travelling Lord Haw Haws to the country they purport to love? And how long are the rest of us willing to let them get away with it?

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Cabinet Reshuffle – from the Ministry of Sharknado, to the Ministry of Deal or No Deal, those new government departments in full.

As Theresa May puts the finishing touches to her Cabinet line-up Pin Prick brings you those newly made up Ministerial departments in full.

Ministry of Death

This government has done more to challenge death than any since December 2017. The May administration is committed to tackling not just death itself, but the underlying causes of death and along with a lot of other crazy promises, we will seek to eradicate it completely by 2022. In this vital ‘transitional Deathxit’ period it is essential that provision be made.  The Prime Minister is delighted to announce that Sir Robert Peel MP has agreed to head the new Ministry. Sir Robert brings considerable expertise to the department, on account of his having passed away 168 years ago.

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Ministry of Jam Tomorrow

British jam and biscuits will be at the heart of our post Brexit economy. UK crumpet welfare is regarded as a world standard globally and with growing demand for our preserves, tarts and award winning buns, the Ministry will seek to spread our …. well our spreads… to wherever toast is made. The new department will merge the existing Condiments and Pickled walnuts Ministries to create a “Super Ministry” with experienced bore, Andrea Leadsom, working to a brief to deliver jam for all for yesterday and tomorrow but crucially never today.

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Ministry of Sharknado

Anyone who has witnessed the devastation that can be caused by a Sharknado or worse still a Sharknado 2, might reasonably wonder why previous governments have done little – or nothing to protect the nation against this most pernicious of weather events. Latter day “Lawrence of Arabia” Rory Stewart will be taking on the important role of heading up the department and will personally lead a 700 counter sharknado force which will deal swiftly with the problem in the event of an outbreak. With their dashing uniforms and smart ‘shark’ emblems the government hopes that attention will be diverted from the actual shitstorm that has engulfed Britain since June 2016.

Ministry of Gravity

Michael Gove returns to the front bench and will take up the reins of this new department with immediate effect. Michael himself has considerable experience of gravity and will seek, through partnerships with other ministries and NGOs to tackle the on-going threat posed by the Earth’s pull. The government will strive to tackle the challenge created by gravity where feasible while stressing that gravity itself was first identified by British scientists in 1686, long before the UK joined the EEC in 1973.

Ministry of Pascal’s Wager

Pascal’s wager posits the idea that given there is some uncertainty over the existence of God it is better to live as though he existed. The actuality (or otherwise) of a Divine Creator is something this government takes very seriously and £45 billion extra has already been set aside to fund research and employ 600 front line dedicated spiritualists in schools, churches and specialist clinics. Like Brexit, nobody knows quite what the future holds and only by investing in madness and made up ‘departments’ will this government be able to distract you from the insanity going on all about you.

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Ministry of Deal or No Deal

Seventy two billion pounds, 27 unanswered questions and the future of a nation at stake. Welcome to the department of Deal or No Deal with your host Noel Edmonds. Noel believes that he was once visited by two melon sized energy balls, that a metal box can cure cancer, that highly addictive ‘cake’ has destroyed the lives of innocent children and that the British public would want three, yes three Mr Blobby theme parks. In the run up to Brexit, Noel blamed a traffic jam on mass uncontrolled immigration and as such he is clearly one of the sanest people in public life currently and perfectly qualified to lead our nation into the darkness of the coming apocalypse. He also has a beard.

Kidz ASK: This week children from St Justine’s Primary, Deptford put their questions Theresa May

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What is your favourite cake? (Tom Year 2)

I don’t think it is helpful for me to name my ‘favourite’ cake. As we move through the Article 50 process it’s important to remember that the UK is a major player in the global baking industry. Whether it be Kiplings, Tunnocks or indeed any of our other industrialised cake makers let’s “talk our buns up” rather than do that very British thing of “talking treats down.”

Where do you like to go on holiday? (Kezia – Year 6)

The Peak District is a firm favourite but like many people I also go abroad, to seek to build partnerships with different holiday providers and explore networking opportunities with fellow tourists.

What is your favourite colour? (Daniel – Reception)

Goodness me. What a difficult question Daniel. Rather than choose one specific colour I want to see a nation where all colours work together for everyone and I think it would be extremely unhelpful and divisive to start picking favourites.

Were you ever in trouble at school? (Princess – Year 5)

As a government we have sought to ring-fence spending on children with special behavioural needs.

So……were you ever in trouble at school? (Princess – Year 5)

On one occasion I do recall forgetting to put my tray on the side after lunch. I remember the teacher telling me to go back and get it – so I did – but I did so a little sulkily.  It’s one of those awful childhood memories of rebelliousness. I think we all get one chance though don’t we. Certainly, I am very ashamed of my behaviour.

If you could invite either Miley Cyrus or Ed Sheeran to dinner who would you ask and what would you cook them? (Savannah – Year 6)

At a time when the whole country is pulling together it would be very inappropriate for me as Prime Minister to sow more division. I would invite both Miley and Edward for supper and then seek to focus on delivering the very best shepherd’s pie I could – one that would meet the needs of both celebrities. Unless of course one of them turned out to be a vegetarian, which is quite likely isn’t it, in which case I suppose we could cook more vegetables (coughs) sorry. Or provide a suitable vegetarian option.

Pewdie Pie. Sick or dank meme generator? (Kyle – Year 5)

I beg your pardon?

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Pewdie who?

What do you like about being Prime Minister? (Amelia – Year 4)

I want Britain to be a place where everyone can succeed. I have confidence that through dialogue and concerted effort we can build a country that rewards every citizen in these isles. A nation everybody can get behind – an inclusive Britain. An outward Britain. An inward Britain. A Britain going forward while not forgetting the Britain that we have left behind. Together. Forever. And if not forever (coughs) for a jolly long time.

What does that mean? (Amelia – Year 4)

I’m very sorry Amelia but I have answered that question (coughs) as clearly I think I can and there are other children with questions to answer – so let’s move on.

Is Brexit deliverable in the time-frame set and would it not be better to put the final deal to the people in the form of a second referendum? (Muhammed – Year 6)

Oh gosh. Look – I’m focusing on delivering Article 50. Your parents and their parents and indeed all the Mums and Dads have spoken (coughs) and they have said – very clearly – that they want a Britain outside of Europe but also one that delivers all of the benefits, security and happpiness that the EU has given us. For free. The people have given me a clear mandate to deliver that and there is no need for a second referendum.

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Unicorns?

Do you believe in unicorns? (Zac – Year 4)

I am not prepared to answer hypothetical questions.

Will I be repatriated with my parents to France? (Fabienne – Year 1)

If you are an EU citizen we currently cannot guarantee the rights of you or your family. Brexit wasn’t about racism – it was about getting the very best deal for the British people. So yes – most probably. Look there’s no need to cry. There’s “What’s Up” and “Facebooked” nowadays and I’m sure all of your chums will stay in touch. All of us have an uncertain future so there really is no need to cry like that. Oh dear. Every single one of us doesn’t know what will happen next week, next year or next month. Even me! We all….. all of us …. have an indeterminate future. Learning that as a six year old girl might be no bad thing!

Thank you Prime Minister –

The Book of Brexit – the humiliation of St Theresa

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And at that time there was great uncertainty across the land – and there was talk of a new teacher who would deliver the children from the yoke. And a man, whose name was Nigel, came out of the wilderness and began to preach and gathered crowds and made a lot of empty promises while talking in riddles that did not make sense.

He was not that Light but was sent to bear witness to that Light. And people said: “What is this light you speak of?” And he said: “Lo – it is the Kingdom of Brexit and it is more a shade of dark blue – though there are those who argue that it is black.”

And after a while later he said: “I shall leave you now and go to see if I might get a job with the Fox network – but there standeth among you a woman, not a leadsom, who will deliver it instead and grant you the Kingdom while I shout abuse from the other side of the lake.”

And he was taken away, but his spirit remained, on LBC and occasionally BBC question time.

And the people were afraid and wondered at what they had done and then – as foretold by Nigel a woman appeared – Theresa, the daughter of Hubert and she began to preach among the people of Albion in a dry and flat voice.

And once when they were all gathered at their devices, she told her disciples “Brexit means Brexit” and the crowd asked of her “but what does that mean?” And she repeated again “Brexit means Brexit” but her followers remained none the wiser and so asked a third time: “But seriously what does it mean?” And she remained silent and did underwhelm them.

And Theresa did endeavour to deliver this thing which nobody really understood, least of all herself and the Faragsees began to murmur among themselves that this “woman will not deliver.”

Now among the disciples closest to her was a man, Boris the Shifty and he doubted her words and looked down on her as ‘not really being our sort of chap’ while publicly saying he did not and saw an opportunity to filleth the inches of his column and the wages of his sin and the night before the party conference she turned to him and said:

“Before this week is over you will have betrayed me 30 times.”

And he did look at her with pity in his eyes and say: “You clearly underestimate my aptitude for disloyalty.”

And he did go to the Faragees and plot but really it was not necessary for her fate had been written from the beginning by her startling ineptitude.

The day of her humiliation dawned with much expectation – and she was taken to a place they called The Manchester Central Conference centre – which means the place of the skull – and she was taunted and mocked by a man with a P45 and as the guards led him away she spluttered and said:

“Blessed are the childless women….” Before starting to cough really badly and again she started saying something about “the British Dream….” and how “places for 3 and 4 year olds have doubled under this government.” But her voice ran dry and she cried out for water which was given and the social media did mock her and she did cry out a fourth time in desperation: “in the 1970s it was scientists in Oxford who invented lithium batteries that make mobile telephones work.”

And the crowd did shake their heads.

And wonder.

And when her humiliation was finished, they cut her down from the podium and took her away and at that moment the great opinion in the Temple split in two and the Earth opened and the people were even more afraid and wished that none of this crap had happened in the first place.

boris foreign