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BofDate 26th September 2007
"A tour de force", "the sincerity shone
through", "He made me want to vomit". Well, you can't
please everybody can you? Gordon Brown's inaugural address to the Labour
party Conference in Bournemouth got the red
part of the political spectrum worked up into a frenzy with his pledge to the
British people that: "I will not let you down. I will stand up for our
schools and our hospitals. I will stand up for British values. I will stand up
for a strong Britain."
As stating the obvious goes, it's up there with "British farming has had a
spot of bad luck recently" and “Victoria Beckham should be buried
alive". Each year the conference season receives an orgy of media
coverage and each year the same banalities are rolled out. "I
support the NHS." Gasp! "I'm against crime, you know."
Surely not! "I believe the economy should make money, not lose
money." WTF!? These and other startling revelations are
reported and analysed as if they were revolutionary policy statements that
could transform the political landscape of the country. No wonder the
British people take more interest in a cat named Socks. Or is it Cookie ?
Or is it ladies' nether regions as some suggest? Only that secret society
known as Opus Blue Petei can tell us. And then they'd have to kill you.
To be fair to Brown, he did throw in a few new policy ideas. Snapping on
the sinister surgical glove he announced that hospitals are to receive a 'deep
clean'. Because obviously Tony Blair couldn't manage a policy in ten
years that didn't involve going into hospital for an ingrowing toe nail and
coming out missing a foot and half a lung. But just how deep is a deep
clean? Images of enforced colonic irrigation spring to mind. Just
an ordinary clean would do. But clean clearly needed sexing up. Speaking
of which, get out your puns and swannee whistles, 5,000 new matrons are on the
way! Trying to shrug off the "dour scot" label, Brown is going
for the Carry On New Labour approach. Watch out for Alastair Darling
tumbling into parliament on a gurney and pulling off Margaret Becket's bra at
the dispatch box as Gordon exclaims "Ooo Mr. Speaker, take them
away!"
But Gordon can relax and stop doing those camp facial mannerism in an attempt
to be even more like Dr. Tinkle. His supporters are deranged enough that
anything he says seems like pure gold. "It was a captain's innings
of a speech - just like Geoffrey Boycott's. There were no sixes just steady
run-making" said one drunk, rambling old man. "He was
believable" said another "there was no Flash Gordon about him."
Yeah, who wants an inter-galactic adventurer making a speech? We do!
Never mind Carry On Chancellor, surely Flash Gordon is the way forward for
politics in this country. Imagine Gordon, with only 48 hours to save the
economy, borne aloft by John Prescott's Hawkmen into the auditorium.
Or Ming the Merciless Campbell dissolving into dust after David Cameron spears
him through the stomach with the Parliamentary Mace. It would liven up PMQs if
nothing else. And the tree beast test would really speed up the annual
Tory Leadership contest. In a bold move Shadow Foreign Secretary William
Hague challenged his counterpart David Miliband to a televised debate on the EU
treaty. Worthy, but no one cares Billy. It would clash with Emmerdale.
Now, if he'd challenged Miliband to a televised homoerotic fight to the death
with whips on a tilting disc in space that had spikes sticking out of it,
people would tune in their millions! Flash Labour, Flash Politics -
standing up for Britain and Mongo.
Vultan
Prescott
But who are these people supplying these odd, eulogistic
comments? Who does actually attend party conferences? An old Tory
going to Brighton each year to rub his double
chin against Thatcher's shoes was understandable, but apart from him, the
concept is difficult to grasp. Attendees these days have that earnest, eager
gleam in their eyes like those strange folk who know that God loves them.
Or the ones whose brains have been removed by aliens. They're too busy,
applaud too manically, respond too keenly to regurgitated platitudes, are too
easily convinced that they are right about everything. Have you ever seen
door stepping Jehovah’s Witnesses and canvassing party supporters out and about
at the same time? Or Nazis for that matter?
It was also noted this week that Labour might be gearing up for an early
election with adverts for graphic designers, policy and research officers,
campaign assistants and press officers. Alluring jobs no doubt to the
zealots who robotically applaud sentiments such as "I like the NHS!"
To the rest of us they sound almost as tempting as the vacant post of PR
officer for the Burmese authorities. As targets go, Buddhist Monks surely
rank just below 'sleeping baby' and 'kitten with limp' as violent opponents.
Unless they can be set to stun rather than kill with those kung fu skills we
all know South East-Asian monks have. Carrying the oppressive torch for
military dictatorships everywhere, the Generals of Burma exemplify the vacuous
eyed belief that they, too, are right about everything. Including sending tear gas and bullets into
crowds of peaceful protesters. The 18th century philosopher and
politician Edmund Burke said ‘All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is
that good men do nothing.’ We at the BoF disagree, all it takes is a
great deal of bullshit and a lot of people with guns. Obviously, we're
not saying that church goers or Labour Party supporters are on the slippery
slope to authoritarian oppression and monk killing. But there's just that
look in their eye...
20th September 2007
‘I won’t go if he’s going’ steamed Gordon Brown, hurling his
cufflinks to the floor before locking himself in the bathroom with a copy of
Topper. The PM is fearful that the presence of Robert Mugabe at the summit of
European and African leaders will divert attention from more important matters.
Of course this isn’t the real reason why Brown is non-too-chuffed. Rumour has
it that at the last summit, Mugabe was wearing the same tie as Gordon, made
disparaging remarks about his shoes and farted in the company of his wife
Sarah. We’ve all been there haven’t we?
You’re looking forward to a big night out before someone lets slip that
‘the corrupt, racist, homophobic, human rights abusing mass misery inflictor’
who you just can’t abide may pop in later for canapés. It’s a question of
etiquette: do you just loiter at the other side of the room, discussing the
latest series of Prison Break with
the President of Mozambique? Or do you bite the bullet and storm straight over
to Mugabe, crack a joke about adding another couple of zeros to Zimbabwe’s
inflation rate and offer him the pickled onions? It’s a teaser. Plus, the
internet has made it even harder to avoid the world’s total bastards. Even if
Brown does manage to steer clear of Mugabe at the dessert trolley, the next
time he checks his Facebook page there’s bound to be a friend request from the
President of Zimbabwe. And you just can’t decline the offer can you? That would
just be awkward. So from then on you get to mull over Mugabe’s online pratting:
Yesterday
Robert added the Oppress
You application. 1:29pm
Robert wrote on Lionel Blair’s wall. 1:26pm
September 18
Robert took a movie quiz. 12:34pm
Mean Girls -
Robert answered 7 of 8 questions correctly for a score of 88%
September 13
Robert is pretending to be a duck 3:34pm
Robert just created a quiz: I’m a twat. 10:42am
See how well you know Robert Mugabe. Take the quiz!
September 12
Robert and Osama Bin-Laden are now friends. 10:22am
Robert has updated his Top Friends! 8:40am
Robert sent Jade Goody an item for Jade's aquarium. 8:21am
Check out Jade's Aquarium here. Robert sent a swordfish.
And so it goes on. Barely a day goes by without Mugabe
throwing Brown a sheep, updating his profile picture or adding another
godforsaken application. So you can see why Gordon’s keen to keep his distance…
Robert Mugabe - Give him a poke
In other news this week, a massive meteor hits Peru. People go
to gawk at it, then fall ill. But alas, it is no alien virus – only gas.
Without wanting to wish harm on the Peruvians, The BoF was secretly hoping for
a hostile alien invasion. Firstly, so people might stop killing each other and
unite to fight a direct threat to the human race (that wasn’t created by the
human race). Secondly, so we could all just sit back and let Tom Cruise, Will
Smith, Jeff Goldblum et al just get on with sorting them out. Cruise of course
would probably just convert them to Scientology whilst relieving them of their
space dollars for the privilege. Had the aliens been of the non-hostile
variety, they would surely have had many questions: Can I qualify for a loan
from Ocean Finance? From what planet did Noel Edmonds originate? How many
people have played the part of Cliff Richard?
There’s nothing like a bit of good, old fashioned British
resolve. Stiff upper lip and all that. When all around are losing their heads,
we keep ours. After queuing for and hour to shut down that Northern Rock
savings account, obviously. Because that’s the logical, sensible and
responsible thing to do when your bank is suffering from temporary cash flow
problems: poo your pants and withdraw all your cash ASAP. Watching all those
people queue was reminiscent of watching sheep being led to the dip. It was
petrol crisis 2.0 with ill informed patrons acting of pub logic and hearsay (that’s
the unverified, unofficial information
gained or acquired from another and not part of one's direct knowledge – not
the British manufactured pop group). Of course, these people will be looking
into new places to invest cash. May we suggest the Zimbabwean property market?
For 250 billion Zimbabwean dollars (45p)* you can get a lovely 3 bed semi just
outside of Harare.
* Exchange rates may fluctuate.
12th
September 2007
As
Britney Spears forgets how to mime and wear clothes at the MTV awards and
people salivate about the prospect of Apple's new iWashing Machine or whatever
life changing blob of plastic they're marketing at the moment, a timely
reminder of important things to worry about arrived this week via Jamie
Oliver's pension fund, Sainsbury's. Following on from Tesco's 8p hike
last week, Sainsbury’s has added 7p on to the cost of an air and vegetable fat
loaf, or bread as it used to be known. Adverse weather conditions in
North America and Australia,
coupled with a general worldwide downturn in production have resulted in
shortfalls, pushing up prices. As usual, the apathetic folk of England were too
busy watching Eastenders and reading Heat to notice the rising cost of, not
just wheat, but also barley, milk and meat. But happily we can rely on
those feisty continentals to remind us how to frighten governments by
brandishing foodstuffs at them. In France, where 98% of the diet is
composed of white bread and pastry (the remaining 2% being the chocolate it's
wrapped around), the government is reportedly fearful of "Baguette
Rage". The prospect of thousands of Frenchmen pooling their last
reserves of dough, storming the Palais Bourbon using an enormous baguette as a
battering ram and hurling Molotov Pain au Chocolates at their beleaguered
president almost makes the prospect of worldwide food shortages worth it.
But it is not just the Gallic culinary ire that has been aroused. A
"pasta protest" is planned for Italy;
Mexico has seen people hit the streets in the "Tortilla Takedown". Even
that haven of state oppression, China,
has faced a Noodle Nunchucking as prices of dietary staples continue rising
apace.
Could Britain see the same? Will a shortage of the national dish result in chicken
tikka turmoil on the streets of London?
Nah, nobody’s really that bothered. The economy is buoyant! So
Gordon Brown tells us despite not being able to pay the police properly. Everyone
is enjoying cut price camcorders and seeing the value of their three bedroom
semi in Whinny Banks break the three billion pound barrier. Strangely,
say the words 'petrol', 'price' and 'rise' five times in front of a mirror and
before you know it you've summoned a blockaded oil depot and a plague of panic
buying. Try it with food instead of petrol and a battered shopping
trolley voiced by David Jason will appear and tell you to sod off. We
take our heaving tables and cut price feasts for granted, chucking away an Ethiopia sized
mountain of food every year. And most of that food is flown in from
across the world, thus freeing up wasteful agricultural land at home that can
have more luxury plywood apartments built on it. How else could we house
and feed our much needed army of management co-ordinators and commissioning
change facilitators? As the climate conspires to dry up over-farmed and
malnourished land and the oil used to ferry mangos and kumquats half way across
the world rapidly reaches its peak*, perhaps it’s time to remind our
over-excitable selves that you can't eat an iphone or a £300 pair of shoes.
We've tried. They need too much Tabasco sauce.
Besides, on the plus side, scarce food would mean no more Hell's Kitchen.
Imagine a world without posturing chefs with bizarrely inflated egos or
sweatily offensive nonentities taking up your viewing time of an evening.
Top of the celebrity annoyance scale this week was respected charity worker and
former comedian Jim Davidson, doing his bit to bridge the divide between sexual
orientations. "Why do shirt lifters pull that same face?" he
innocently asked, before being threatened with an expensive and phallic
baguette and being asked to leave the show. In a statement Jim countered the
accusation he was anti-gay: "People who know me know I am not
homophobic". Much like people who know Kate and Gerry Mcann know
they aren't murderers. Jim should follow the Mcann’s lead and set up a
website to keep an eager public abreast of developments that have nothing to do
with them. JimLovestheGays.com/blog could detail his enthusiasm for musical
theatre, public toilets and strolling around parks late at night. Because
blogs like these convince everybody.
*Apocalyptic ramblings not necessarily accurate
Jim Davidson (Not a Homophobe)
6th
September 2007
Politics: dull, isn’t it? But it need not be. If only we
lived in a real democracy – then we could choose exactly who we wanted to be in
the Cabinet. Then, obviously, we would go for the following cult celebrities:
Prime Minister –
David Hasselhoff
Hey, don’t hassle the Hoff. Who better to lead Britain into
the next, erm, decade than a man with a talking car and a pair of ass-hugging shorts?
The two golden rules: if in doubt, turbo boost or record a German No.1.
Chancellor of the
Exchequer – Nick Leeson
So he cocked up once. What are the chances of that happening
again, huh? Yes Mr Leeson, let’s give the Bank of England’s details to the nice
Nigerian businessman who emailed at 2.47am…
Secretary of State
for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs – Steven Segal
If the affairs are foreign or commonwealth, chances are they
involve a large group of inept terrorists attempting an over-elaborate plan to
get hold of some government SuperShite. Segal’s the man for the job. Just don’t
let him sing.
Secretary of State
for Justice and Lord Chancellor – ED209 from RoboCop
This is the kind of justice Britain needs. You have fifteen
seconds to comply, bitch. Now get back in the designated cycle lane.
Secretary of State
for the Home Department – Angela Lansbury
This aging big screen teapot / small screen private
investigative author corpse stumbler must be in need of a rest by now. Secretary
of State for the Home Department? Sounds like someone who sits at home making
curtains to me…
Secretary of State
for Defence; and, Secretary of State for Scotland– Chuck Norris
The best form of defence is Chuck Norris (ancient Chinese
proverb)
Secretary of State
for Health – Richard Simmons
“You’ve gotta get up every morning and reach for your
dreams!” says Richard. “His trademark attire is candy-striped Dolfin shorts and
tank tops decorated with Swarovski crystals. He is also well known for his
naturally curly hair, which has led to physical comparisons between him and
'70s pop singer Leo Sayer” says wikipedia. He once licked Victoria Wood on TV.
She was momentarily repulsed. Ace.
Secretary of State
for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs – Wurzel Gummage
Who knows more about rural affairs than a man with a
vegetable for a face? The wicker man was unavailable…
Secretary of State
for International Development – Mr T.
‘There’s more to me than just catchphrases and bling’ begins
Mr T. during his opening address at the 23rd Annual Development of
Livelihoods and Greater Quality of Life for Civilization Conference in Tokyo. ‘Now take notes
suckas’.
Leader of the House
of Commons (and Lord Privy Seal); Minister for Women; and Labour Party Chair –
David Bowie in Labyrinth attire
“You remind me of the baby
What baby? The baby with the power
What power? Power of voodoo
Who do? You do
Do what? Remind me of the baby
Dance magic, dance, ooh ooh ooh
Dance magic, dance magic, ooh ooh ooh
Dance magic”
Secretary of State
for Work and Pensions; and Secretary of State for Wales– Anne Robinson
‘The sale of Wales to Afghanistan is for the benefit of the Welsh people and will result in new and exciting
challenges. Muahahhahahahahha’ says Anne’s giant image on the 40ft screen in
Cardiff City Centre.
Secretary of State
for Transport – Jeremy Clarkson
‘I understand that accident rates have soared by 80,000%
this week after I abolished the speed camera, speed limits, road markings,
pedestrian crossings, women drivers, seat belts and air bags. But I haven’t got
time for this now. The premiere of my new TV show ‘Jezza Bombs Greenpeace’
starts tonight and I want to set the video’
Parliamentary
Secretary to the Treasury and Chief Whip – Timmy Mallet
Main duty comprises distribution of comedy oversize plasters
with crap drawn on. Attempts to prove that glasses are fashionable if covered
in glitzy crap. Fails. But in an amusing way.
Secretary of State
for Children, Schools and Families – Hulk Hogan
Mr. Hogan cites a ‘string’ of 80s family hits as ample
qualification for this post. And if ‘Suburban Commando’ and ‘Santa with Muscles’
aren’t your thing, he’ll ‘roid up and drop the big leg on you*
Secretary of State
for Culture, Media and Sport – Kriss Akabusi
‘Can’t I be remembered for being a world class medal winning
athlete, as opposed to saying ‘Awooga!’ which I didn’t actually say? That
was John Fashanu!’ says Akabusi before laughing uncontrollably like a hyena on
crack.
Secretary of State
for Northern Ireland– Russell Crowe
‘What do ya mean
you don’t fight anymore? What kind of a poofter country is this?’ says Crowe
before hurling a flaming telephone in Gerry Adams face and kicking Ian Paisley
in the balls.
Leader of the House
of Lords (and Lord President of the Council) – Yoda
Every second Tuesday off we will have, because Monday is the
night pissed with the lads I get. Chewie after 7 Breezers = awesome.
Secretary of State
for Innovation, Universities and Skills – Keith Chegwin
As a motivational speaker, Chegwin is phenomenal. ‘How am I
famous? Dunno really. It was all on the down slope till I got my cock out. Since
then the panto offers have been flooding in’.
*Hulk Hogan has never taken steroids. Yes he has. No he
hasn’t. Yes he has.
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