NO BUSINESS LIKE SNOW BUSINESS

Mad Kay Fright of skymadeupnewsandfilth broadcasts from outside, in the snow.

I don't think it's funny, I really don't. It's fucking freezing and there's snot streaming out of my nose and all over my fucking scarf. I'll need fucking danger money for this. We'll be back with some snow shit. Stay tuned or I'll bite your face off. Snot or no snot.

And now over to our blizzard correspondent, Jenny Tits.

Jenny, what can you tell us about the grit?
Well, Kay, there isn't any, although they say they will be getting some, just before they run out, which they already have but only nearly. Only not in Scotland, where they have already run out, fucked the budget, sold the countryside to Donald Trump and are now concreting-over the Highlands but since everything's always shit in Scotland, running out of grit hardly seems to matter. Jock manages to fall over a lot, whatever the weather. Do you know, Kay, that one in five Jock pupils leaves school unable to read, write or add up ? One in fucking five, Jenny? That's almost fifteen per cent, is it the lard do you suppose, makes them so stupid? Maybe in these temperatures all the lard freezes in their brains. But what about the Big Freeze in other parts of the country? Over now to Jayne Tits in Northumberland. Jayne, you're in Cockinmouth, not long since they were flooded, how are they coping with all this? Yes, Kay and thank you. Well, Kay, as you wander around the whitened council estates you can see they're throwing the plasma tellies and the three piece cardboard suites out in the garden, as usual, even though there's nothing wrong with them, just a tribal, gut reaction, I guess, Kay, a bit of bad weather and everbody's thinking of insurance claims and those without insurance, most of them, are hoping for a handout from the government. Earlier I spoke to local father, Gavin Whine.

Gavin and his son, Wembley, bonding.

Aye, bonny lass, seems like just as we wuz gettin on us feet, like, after all yon floodin' and shite here we are again, back in square peg one, like, 'avin' to overstate the value of our possessions which have all been so irrefuckinparably damaged by the torrential snow outside, like, gutted, I am bonny lass, totally and absolutely gutted. Aye and devastated, too. It's the bairns I feel sorry for, bonny lass, they's only just got a forty-incher each, in their bedrooms, like, and now we gotta throw them oot in the garden and start all over again, the tellies, I mean, not the weans. I love my kids, I do, ask anyone down the Whingers Arms. That was Kevin Geordie, talking to me earlier.

Thanks, Jayne, and I'm joined in the studio by Julie Tits of our weather team, Julie, how big are your tits,

I mean, can you give us an overview, of the snow, and the grit, maybe. Thanks, Kay, police are urging drivers to stay at home and not make them get out of their Subaru and BMW cars into the cold weather, attending emergencies and helping people. Not our duty, that, they say, no, chasing stolen Fiestas with helicopters, that's us, and the recreational tasering of innocent people, 'snot as though we were an emergency service, if people want help in the bad weather they should join the AA, not that they are any help, currently experiencing unprecedented demand, that's what they say, fucking rubbish, the AA. Fourth emergency service? God fucking help us. So that's the message from this empty grityard here in Oxfordshire. Everything's fucked, roads are shit, pavements are shit, schools are shut as idle teachers skive off at home, marking, no doubt, like they do; A&E departments are telling old people who've fallen over and broken their hips to stay where they are and not send for an ambulance as the ambulances are all fucked aswell. There's not enough grit, they are down to their last half-hour's worth but the chief executive of the council says some bullshit or other to cover his well-padded arse. Here is Mr Harry McBully

Shiny Harry McBully , Chief Executive

talking to me earlier. Well, Jenny, as a council we are committed to doing the very best for our senior management and if this means there's no fucking grit well that's the price that motorists and old people have to pay in exchange for a top-notch professional council, such as mine and which, I have to say, leads the country in being good for fuck all. I mean, salt, and grit, or whatever, it's not as though it costs a fortune, dig it up out of the ground we do, I understand, well not me, obviously, you know, it's just there, waiting to be dug up, you'd think we'd have a stockpile, but, as Mr Clarkson says, you'd be wrong. I love that programme, driving cars sideways around the corners with the wheels smoking, I never tire of that, me, and no pun intended, Jenny. Sorry? Wheels smoking, never tyre of that, geddit? Money, however, spent on grit or whatever is money that could be invested in all our futures but especially in my pension. Hard times are ahead for council taxpayers, if they think this grit shit is a problem, let 'em just wait until after the election when the real fun starts,never mind no grit, what about no fucking teachers or social workers? When they're thrown out of their care homes those old bastards'll really have something to complain about. Shoulda sorted a good pension deal, like me. And a job bullying people.

Elsewhere, ten thousand schools are closed in Gloucestershire, fifteen thousand in the West Midlands and nearly half a million in South Yorkshire as news programmers battle to think of something to say, find some dick to interview, shivering in his Skoda. Took me eighteen and a half hours to get home, said one of them, as though he'd climbed the Matterhorn, useless, fat bastard.

It's chaos on the roads, people abandoning their cars and walking home

with Direct Line Insurance complaining that people were claiming for damage to their cars. It's simply too frightful, said Direct Line's Mr Steven Fag

Ever-popular merchandising icon, Steven Fag.

Just too frightful. This is not what the insurance companies are for. People should just stay at home and drink a nice warm cup of Twinings Earl Grey. Or sperm. From a schoolboy is best, I find.

And now over to John Kettley

.John Kettley is a weatherman. John, can you pad this out for a few minutes? I should think so and may I say it's great to be back here, on the telly, but back in the Ice Age, viewers, you know, they ran out of grit then, too, so as I allus say there's nowt new under't Sun. There, will that do? Oh, I dunno, twenty quid. Oh, hang on, we 'ad a Big Freeze just like this when I were a lad, back in't sixties, it were so cold we 'ad to thaw us words out, before we could hear what we wus saying and Mother'd come out and belt us, like, just for the 'ell of it; these youngsters today, playin' in't snow with their Blackberries and such, don't know they're born, they don't.

That was John Kettley for you, here on skymadeupnewsandfilth.

And now, joining us in the snow is the prime minister and abominable snowman,

Rt Hon Gordon Snot, MP.


Not a very good day for you, prime minister?
Och, I don't know, Kay, when I was a wee boy, just a normal wee freak of a boy living in the manse we had snow a lot, and as my father, the vicar, used to say, Many are cold but few are frozen, so I think I am the right person to make the tough decisions, that this country needs at this time of snow, which started in America and isn't my fault. As I travel around the country meeting homeless people and small goneoutofbusinessbusinesses people are telling me that they want me to stay at the helm of the sledge, tobogganing through this present crisis, as only I can, making the right decisions for the country, leading from the toilet, ducking away when things get tough and popping-up for a photo with an old person or some soldiers. But hold on, prime minister, everybody hates your guts, you've bullied everybody, buggered everything up, thrown phones at the staff and now two of your former cabinet colleagues want to have you fucking sectioned before you can do any more damage to the country. Well, you say that but I am getting on with the job of beating the Big Freeze in the interests of all the people of this country, apart from Scotland which isn't my concern and we have already made great progress. Oh, no,Kay, no, no, no. they just elect me, nothing to do with me, what happens up there. Just look, building on our success of having burnt all the money and given away all the gold we are now getting rid of all the grit and soon there won't be any left to put on the roads and we'll have to borrow some. From China. The roads are all but impassable, there's a gas shortage, the hospitals are all clogged up and by the end of the month there'll be a money shortage as people take my advice and stay at home and their employers take my advice and don't pay them ; there'll be a fair bit of defaulting on credit cards and mortgages. Who else, Kay, could have achieved the bankrupting of the country and the emptying of all the grit warehouses? Only Labour can do this. But what I would say is as people are tucking into a scrumptious dinner of roast mice and baked beans, that they shouldn't waste salt on their dinners, it's bad for them anyway and instead they should each take a pinch of salt, go outside, and sprinkle it in the road, this'll make it easier for the police vehicles when they come to round people up and take them to the re-education camps which Mr Balls is busy preparing. And, let me just say, Kay, that I haven't mentioned the floods. The ones that'll come when all this snow, which started in America, starts to melt. No, Kay, I think that contrary to what Mr Hoon and Mrs Hewitt are saying, the nation, the voters, have a very real appreciation of my qualities

That was the prime minister, Mr Snot, with me on Saint Stephen's Green.

After the break we'll be hearing from some other nutter on how he would handle the weather. As if. That's right, Dave the Toff joins us.

What the people of Britain want is a Weather Cabinet and that's just what we'll give them when I am IceMaster. Tory, Labour and ToiletBoy ministers, all sitting round, talking about the weather. How's that for modernisation.....?

More of Iceman after the break, stay tuned. Stay tuned, I said, or I'll come around and eat your pets, alive.

advert

Hello, I'm Michael Parkinson

and I've made a fortune sticking my tongue up the arseholes of rich and famous people. I have some wonderful tromboning memories but more importantly I have shitloads of money. If you are just some poor telly-watching bastard you won't have enough to bury yourself. But don't worry, if you join this Coffin'n'Hearse plan which they're paying me to advertise, you might manage to save enough for a really cheap funeral, I say might because terms and conditions do apply and since you don't have a lawyer or an accountant you might not only be dead but right regally fucked, too. But never mind that. Just for signing-away a good chunk of your miserable income we'll send you this free biro.

I'm Sir Michael Parkinson, knighted for grovelling and you can trust me.