Britain celebrates Brexit with new pound coin.

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So the pound has sunk even lower this week and all UKIP can offer to fix the problem is to punch each other in the head. God help us if they are ever in charge of anything. Saying that UKIP MEP Steven Woolfe shows no signs of a blood clot on the brain. But then how do you clot something that isn’t there.

I was given the UKIP version of Cludo as a gift this year. That’s the one where it doesn’t matter who did it you just always blame the immigrant.

Theresa May has announced new trade deals with the Chinese. Yes I remember they came to visit earlier this year and David Cameron presented them with quite an unusual welcome gift. The entire British steel industry.

As those opposed to Jeremy Corbyn Tweet #GoodbyeLabour perhaps at the same time we should all be texting #GoodbyeScotland.

In other news UKIP have announced they’d like to deport anybody who refuses to speak English. That might prove tricky for the Welsh.

John gets Mad, Class and Elites.

I was doing a gig in a posher bit of town the other night and an elderly lady came up to me and asked, “Why is it that all comedians are on the left?” I replied that there are conservative comedians nowadays. And if you think not so long ago lots of comedians were  right wing or Tories. Just look at Jim Davidson and Bernard Manning. And she replied, “Yes but they were horrible.” I said, “Yeah I know. I wonder why that was.”

I miss the simpler days when there were just three classes. Upper, middle and working. Now we’ve got

  1. Elites
  2. Upper
  3. Middle
  4. Working
  5. Oh my god he’s wearing Crocs.

Class really does inform your sense of humour. here’s a genuine conversation I had with one of the Cambridge Footlights at The Edinburgh festival this year.

ME. So yesterday my front row was four 13 – 14 year old boys.

FOOTLIGHTS. That must have been difficult.

ME. No. They were great. I had a great moment when I did my money bucket speach. I said to them. You young guys don’t have to pay…But I do want a blow job. Don’t worry you still get the free CD.

FOOTLIGHTS. Good God! And the audience were OK with that?

ME. Yeah. Err…It was one of the biggest laughs of the night.

FOOTLIGHTS. Im shocked.

ME. That’s nothing. I shifted another 4 CDs and got a blow job.

FOOTLIGHTS. ( Gazes into the middle distance…. Then goes inside)

ME. Sniggers…

I recently quite inadvertently stumbled on a way to make yourself feel like an Elite. I was in the park and had eaten a bag of pistachio nuts. Obviously when you finish pistachio nuts you’re left with a bag of hard empty shells. Just as I was about to clear them away a gust of wind came and scattered them over the ground. I suppose it looked like I was throwing out grain as a flock of pigeons descended on them… Well, suddenly I felt like the chancellor. I thought “You think you’re getting something. But it’s nothing but empty shells. That’s trickle down economics for you. I get nuts, you get empty shells. Know why? Because you’re vermin.”

And there was this one pigeon that couldn’t fly because it had a broken wing. Well…It was making out it had I broken wing. But I knew better than that. So I started kicking it, “Come on you, you can fly, you’re not fooling me.” Eventually I just picked it up and threw it in the air. It came down with a thud and died. I said, “Fair enough. You’ve passed the assessment.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

An open letter to Richard Branson and his trains (Renationalise the railways)

 

I travel on British trains a lot. I reckon trains in India are better. We have the worst and most expensive service in Europe.  

The east coast line went back into public ownership and became the most efficient and profitable in the country. But we can’t be having that. Where is the sense in customer care. But panic not we managed to get rid of all that by selling it back to Richard Branson.

He actually has a sign on these cattle trucks that asks How are we doing? and an address to send your thoughts to him….So here’s the letter I wrote.

HOW AM I DOING.

Dear Richard Branson I thought I’d just send a quick note in regards to your question how am I doing? Well I’m afraid the answer’s not very good. I’m not sure where to start on this subject but let’s first go with the often overwhelming stench of unprocessed shit that often tickles my nostrils when traveling on your bovine Cowperson express.

How can we explain to you that it takes more than an egg cup full of water to flush a toilet that has been blocked since Newark Northgate?

It’s not all bad news though as I’ve discovered a fitting revenge to this situation when passing through Grantham the birth place of Margaret Thatcher and spiritual mother to pus ridden colossal greed juggernauts like your good self.

As soon as your train pulls into Grantham station I take great delight in running through it and flushing every toilet IN THE STATION. Thus depositing the pungent effluent of two generations of an exploited, tyrannized and quite frankly totally constipated work force. Try leading the masses by the nose after that one you creepy haired cat wanker.

If somehow I manage to work up an appetite on your defecation express can I please point out that not even NASA have figured out how to make a cheese and ham toastie in a fucking microwave.

The fact that this service costs £132.00 to go from Newcastle to London and is often so overcrowded I’ve seen people pass out yet still remain upright, packed in like Scousers at a Poundland sale, is yet another moot point. This should be enough reason to have you put on one of your new space shuttles on a one way trip to the moon.

I can’t believe you actually think we want to go into space with you? The toasties would be even worse and there would be shit floating everywhere!

Personally I would like to beat you to death with bags of your own money.

I’ll tell you this sir your trains are well named Virgin because nobody wants to ride on them.

Yours the customer.

Former “in” Bellybutton now supports “out”

A bellybutton who was a longstanding supporter of in, or as they are known commonly an “innie” has now declared to be a supporter of out, also known as an “outie”

When questioned on why they had changed their stance they remarked “I would like to clear up a few myths about being out of the main part of the body. Just because I am out this does not mean  the brain will decamp to Frankfurt. Nor will the bottom lose it’s subsidies. It’s also ridiculous to say that a bellybutton exit or Bexit as we now call it  will damage the genitals “special relationship” with the U.S. As for all this scaremongering that the bottom would be more susceptible to terrorist attacks… well that’s just below the belt scaremongering.”

When also asked if this new stance was perhaps a bid to gain the leadership of the backbone at the next election the bellybutton had this to say. “It would be a wonderful thing to be the backbones leader. It is at least five years away which is an aeon in the body politic, by which time whatever my personal ambitions may be, there will be competition from young thrusting body parts both male and female who will be overtaking me so who knows.  As I’ve said many, many times before that it’s more likely that I will be reincarnated as an olive or shoved back in by a champagne cork or Unscrewed entirely resulting in the bum falling off.”

More recently the bellybutton has caused controversy by accusing the arms and legs of goose-stepping in a fashion similar to the Nazis.

The question of in or out still remains on a knifes edge.

 

On the anniversary of Thatchers Death (song)

Anniversary celebrations…

This just popped up as a Facebook memory. I wrote it on the day of her death. Trust me the sentiment still stands.

BYE BYE THATCHER

 

(Sung to the tune of Bye Bye Blackbird)

 

Cut back all our care and dole

So much woe

No tears to show

Bye Bye Thatcher

When nobody weeps for thee

On the street protesters meet

Bye bye Thatcher

 

You showed us no love or understanding

So Satan’s mark upon your arse is branded

Get out of bed, fight and strike

Go rioting ‘till late at night

Thatcher Bye bye

Some economic advice.

It’s interesting when you go to the cash machine and one of the options is, would you like an advice slip. The thing is it’s not really advice is it? It’s just the correct information about the precarious state of your financial affairs.

If it was advice it would say something like…ah well…you’re fucked. But it isn’t all your fault.

The reason for your financial distress is our governments have sold themselves out to large corporations.

These corporations are moving cheap labour all around the globe which results in wage stagnation and push down economics.

They have no interest in your financial welfare. They are designed to push for maximum profits at a great cost to human welfare.

These profits are then divided among a small group of share holders and directors while you the worker get pushed further and further into almost slave like conditions.

You have one of two choices in this situation. You can stick your head in the sand until they take the last of your rights from you…or…you can unite, take up arms and tear down your oppressors.

Now that would be advice.

 

Stand up comedy set 6. Church of Scotland minister…

just wrote a wee thing that made my wife laugh…It’s never been tried on stage so blame her…

CHURCH OF SCOTLAND MINISTER…

In Scotland we used to have a show called Late Call. And it was a wee five minute slot that came on at the end of the night in which a Church of Scotland minister would come on and try and give you some life advice via some religious metaphor. They’d say things like.

“You know my son came to me the other day after he had been on the internet…and he said to me…Is God everywhere daddy? I said yes he is son. god is indeed everywhere. And he said…So…Is God like Wi-Fi then daddy?

So I thought about that for a minute…And in a way yes he is. God is very much like Wi-Fi…Which is probably why they don’t get him in  Grimsby..hahaha…of course that was a little joke…

But yes God is like Wi-Fi and of course like all Wi-Fi he has a password…

But maybe you’re using the wrong password. Say for example if your password is something like Asian Babes Anal Calamity. Then that’s the very much wrong password.

Let me perhaps give you a wee bit guidance. You know I typed the words God Almighty into Google the other day and I got three top answers.

1.Is God Almighty real,

2. Is God Almighty the movie based on fact?

and 3. God almighty what’s the cure for an itchy scrotum?

Now the second two are much easier to answer than the first one. But if you have the right password then you can answer that first ever so big question…and I’m going to give you the password now…the password is of course faith.

Although if you type that into Google it does tend to go straight to the website of Faith Paloma…that’s the wrong one. Lovely as she is…

But I’d like if I can to finish tonight’s Late Call with a wee joke…It’s not my joke…it’s one I got off the internet…

There was a Jewish man praying at the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem. The Wailing Wall is of course a traditional place of worship in the Jewish tradition…Everyday they go there for a good old wail…which I suppose makes sense…they’re always moaning about something…hahaha…Anyway this Jewish man is working himself up into quite the religious fervour when a tourist comes by and asks him what he’s doing?

He replies, Every day my son I come here to pray. I pray for an end to war, I pray for an end to hunger and more than anything I pray for an end to this terrible situation between the Jew and the Arab.

So the tourist asks…and does that work.

To which the Jewish man replies…what do you think? I’m talking to a wall.