Mr Michael Spit-Gove is to resign from the govament. Over now to our education editor, Jayne Tits, standing, looking all urgent, outside some building in Whitehall.
Yes, that's right, and thank you, Dermot....
Jayne, what can you tell us..??
Yes, that's right and thank you, Dermot. Well, nothing, really, it's very cold and I don't see why I have to stand out here in the middle of the night, outside an empty building, like a fucking idiot...
That's Jayne Tits for us, there, outside somewhere and I am joined here in the studio by Mr Brian Nobody who is an expert on the news and by Fiona Slut, of the Daily Filth, who is a media slut. Only not as bad as Rebekka Kemp-Wade-Brookes-Arsehole is. Brian, you first, whaddayou make of it, will he resign, or will he cling-on?
Will who resign?
Michael Spit-Gove, the embattled Education Seckatry....
Who's he ?
Turning now to you, Fiona, what's your take on all this?
Well, Jeremy, phone-tapping has never been a practice here, at the Daily Filth, not while I've been editor - or is it editrix, I usually leave all that grammar nonsense to the subs - certainly not, not while I've been in charge of this great title.....
But you're not in charge, you write the astrology column...
Do I ?
We'll have to bring you that later but for now I can tell you that Michael Spit-Gove, the weird one, with the funny mouth,
is said to be sick of being made a cunt of by everybody, especially the judgepeople, in the courts, always telling him he's a cunt. I mean, spat Mr Gove, what are they for, these judgepeople, if they won't back the people in charge, I thought this was a democracy, where the judges just do the will of the govament which nobody elected, that's how me and my Godfather, Mr Murdoch, understand democracy. I think I'll go back to working for him on his lads' mag, the Times, with Matthew Dreary and Jeremy Fatman. Oh, I'll keep up the MP thing, the money's handy and you only have to go to work once every four or five years, at election time, shout a bit about patriotism and hanging Pakis and the voters shove you back in. But this being Education Seckatry, it's shit. I mean, when they asked me if I'd give up my job to let a DogShooter do it, well, I wish I'd just said, too fucking right, here, have it, it's shit, I don't want it, instead of saying, yes, of course I would, in the national interest, -not that I give a fuck about that, the national interest - and pretending, all mealy-mouthed, that I might have to give up my job, when I knew all along that Mr bin Cameron would rather tell the truth about something than have a DogShooter in a proper job. All that happens, anyway, once one is the Education Seckatry, is that you get bollockings and have to go to parliament apologising every five minutes to Mr Balls, or whoever it is now. I mean, it's no exaggeration to say that I spend most of my time getting bollocked in court or grovelling to that smirking communist bastard; no wonder I haven't a fucking clue what I'm supposed to be doing. All I want to do is set up schools for middle class Tory voters' children and do it with money stolen from commoner, stupider, filthier children, who we don't need anyway, so why waste money on pretending to educate them. we should just send the little fuckers down the pits. Only we closed them all. Anyway, the coalotion, it's what people voted for, it's what national socialism is all about, for God's sake, stamping-out the unworthy.
is said to be sick of being made a cunt of by everybody, especially the judgepeople, in the courts, always telling him he's a cunt. I mean, spat Mr Gove, what are they for, these judgepeople, if they won't back the people in charge, I thought this was a democracy, where the judges just do the will of the govament which nobody elected, that's how me and my Godfather, Mr Murdoch, understand democracy. I think I'll go back to working for him on his lads' mag, the Times, with Matthew Dreary and Jeremy Fatman. Oh, I'll keep up the MP thing, the money's handy and you only have to go to work once every four or five years, at election time, shout a bit about patriotism and hanging Pakis and the voters shove you back in. But this being Education Seckatry, it's shit. I mean, when they asked me if I'd give up my job to let a DogShooter do it, well, I wish I'd just said, too fucking right, here, have it, it's shit, I don't want it, instead of saying, yes, of course I would, in the national interest, -not that I give a fuck about that, the national interest - and pretending, all mealy-mouthed, that I might have to give up my job, when I knew all along that Mr bin Cameron would rather tell the truth about something than have a DogShooter in a proper job. All that happens, anyway, once one is the Education Seckatry, is that you get bollockings and have to go to parliament apologising every five minutes to Mr Balls, or whoever it is now. I mean, it's no exaggeration to say that I spend most of my time getting bollocked in court or grovelling to that smirking communist bastard; no wonder I haven't a fucking clue what I'm supposed to be doing. All I want to do is set up schools for middle class Tory voters' children and do it with money stolen from commoner, stupider, filthier children, who we don't need anyway, so why waste money on pretending to educate them. we should just send the little fuckers down the pits. Only we closed them all. Anyway, the coalotion, it's what people voted for, it's what national socialism is all about, for God's sake, stamping-out the unworthy.
Over, now, to our our legal correspondent, Joshua ben Phillips ben Rosenberg Wiesenthal Goldman ben Sachs outside the High Court. Joshua Wotsit, what can you tell us?
Yes, that's right and thank you, Dermot, anyone who supports the Egyptian revolution is a Nazi, No, no, I mean, rather, that this has been another landmark decision by the High Court which has ruled that Mr Spit-Gove's decision to arbitrarily axe the Goyim school buildings programme was arbitrary and didn't take into account various Goyim things. If everybody was Jewish and went to Jewish schools, continued Lord Justice Slag, in his landmark ruling, we would live in a land flowing with milk and honey, well, the Jews would anyway. And that's what counts. It says so, in the Great Holy Book Of Shite, Guilt and Superstition. The rest of you are all bastards. (sings and dances, banging head on wall) Have na-gilah, have na-gilah.........
Did he really say that, Lord Justice Slag...?
Yes, that's right and thank you, Dermot but I should warn you Dermot - Dermot, that's a catholic name, isn't it - that by questioning me or my wife, Melanie, you are getting close to anti-semitism and you know what we do to your sort. Straight over to Nuremberg with you and a good, slow, Kosher hanging.
(lights seven brach candleabra and starts banging head on wall again, sings: If I was a rich man, yabbadabadabbadabbadabbadabbadabba-doo, all day long I'd bellybellyboom, If I was a wealthy man Oy!)
(lights seven brach candleabra and starts banging head on wall again, sings: If I was a rich man, yabbadabadabbadabbadabbadabbadabba-doo, all day long I'd bellybellyboom, If I was a wealthy man Oy!)
That was Mr Melanie Phillips for us, there, at the New Tony Blair Wailing Wall, outside the High Court. Fucking mad bastard. Like his Mrs. Have you seen her, recently? Talk about anorexic.
But what does this mean for the people at the sharp end? I am joined now by Mr Brian Nobody, who is an expert on education and by Mrs Sue Loopy, head of the mental health charity, Nutscape.
Brian, you first.
Well, clearly, Dermot, I'm with Lord Sugar on this one. Football is clearly football and running, well that's clearly something else. Not that me and my members have anything against running. In fact, Dermot, clearly nothing would happen in football without running, well, it would but it'd just be slow, with people walking up the wing and that. And if the goalie couldn't run from one side of the goalmouth to the other, well, he'd be fucked, wouldn't he, Dermot, not to put too fine a point on it. The ball'd be in the net before he'd taken one step. Imagine, if you will, the immortal George Best, walking swiftly through his opponents, a right-turn here, walking on the spot for a moment, a step backwards there, wouldn't be the same, would it? And anyway, that little fucker, him what owns West 'Am, he's that dirty little pornographer bastard, David Sullivan, pasty faced little wanker publishes Asian CumSluts and Gangbang Yer Old Granny Wiv A Buncha Mutant Niggers, ain't he, horrible little fucking bastard. Wouldn't want him owning the nation's best football stadium would we? Clearly Dermot, the spectators'd be at risk of catching a fucking dose of the Andy Capp, every time they went down there, wouldn't they? 'Im running around the place all week when no bastard was there and wankin' all over the seats, like. And anyway, what with the running track being there nobody wouldn't be able to see nothing would they, being that far away from the pitch proper, so to speak, need fucking opera glasses, not that they'd know what opera was, Dermot, better off staying at home and watching it on Sky with Andy Gray and that other cunt. If you hadn't sacked them, that is.
Thanks Brian, but to return to Michael Spit-Gove, should he have resigned or should he have clung-on like they usually do. Sue, your thoughts...?
Well, Jeremy, speaking for the mentally crippled we have no objections to the schools falling down. Recent studies have show that naked learning in the rain, is quite a useful aternative to more traditional and sane-o-centric forms of tuition, like indoors. There is in this country, rather too much emphasis on what only seems to be normal but is in fact quite harmful to people with delusions, imbeciles, loonies and fullblown deranged psychobastards. As a means of learning there is much to be said for rolling around in the dirt and eating your own poo. It's a little known fact, Jeremy, but more than everybody in the country, five people out of every four, in fact, will at some point in their lives go mad. And so it is vital, therefore, that something be done and funds be provided. People just don't realise, Jeremy, that we all live with madness, never knowing when it's going to be our turn, and how would you, if you think you're Napoleon and spend all your time planning how to refight the Battle of Waterloo, as many of my members do. Or pretending you was prime minister when no bastard had elected you, never mind give you a fucking mandate to take the whole fucking country back into the Dark fucking Ages, excuse my French, Jeremy and so every day you had to pretend harder and harder that they had, even though they hadn't and, if you was mad enough, like, so to speak, to give 'em a chance to vote for you they'd send you packing right sharpish, I mean, Jeremy, just imagine the 'ell it must be, inside somebody's 'ead, like that, thinking they're prime minister, when they ain't. An' that's without starting on them selling the bleeding forests off or the Health service or gay bleeding weddings being held in the 'oly bleeding Church of bleeding England. I mean, being a shirtlifting ponce, like, is no worse'n being a paranoid bleeding schizophrenic, they're both mental illnesses, sent from 'Im up above, like, to test us, but you don't see my members demanding to run up the aisle of St Paul's Cafeedral, in leather trousers wiv no arses in em, waving their cocks about, scrap metal 'angin off their nipples and knobends and proclaiming their everlasting love before God - as fucking if, everlasting love, among poofters, do me a favour, love, I may be mad but I ain't fucking stupid. And they got the cheek to say that me and my Nutscape charity have to join the Big bleeding Society. God fucking help us, the world's gone bleeding mad, never mind just my members. Michael Gove? I seen him on the telly. He's a right fucking lunatic. I know everything, me; that's 'im, Fucking eejit. Spraying spit everywhere. He's worse than that old queen, Hatterjee.
Well, there we are, Michael Spit-Gove has been reversed in the courts again and the country doesn't quite know what to make of it, opinion, as ever, divided. It's the weather now, with some grinning fuckwit enthusing for all he's worth about organised rain; I'm not kidding you, organised rain, it's like being in the fucking Butlins Redcoats round here sometimes. And after the break we'll be speaking to the embattled Mr Spit-Gove himself about what it's like being the only non-millionaire public school fuckpig in the cabinet. Stay tuned. Or I'll send Kay Burley round your house.
Master Spit-Gove, too clever for his own good,
is currently in detention,
outside Mr Cameron's study.
Brian, you first.
Well, clearly, Dermot, I'm with Lord Sugar on this one. Football is clearly football and running, well that's clearly something else. Not that me and my members have anything against running. In fact, Dermot, clearly nothing would happen in football without running, well, it would but it'd just be slow, with people walking up the wing and that. And if the goalie couldn't run from one side of the goalmouth to the other, well, he'd be fucked, wouldn't he, Dermot, not to put too fine a point on it. The ball'd be in the net before he'd taken one step. Imagine, if you will, the immortal George Best, walking swiftly through his opponents, a right-turn here, walking on the spot for a moment, a step backwards there, wouldn't be the same, would it? And anyway, that little fucker, him what owns West 'Am, he's that dirty little pornographer bastard, David Sullivan, pasty faced little wanker publishes Asian CumSluts and Gangbang Yer Old Granny Wiv A Buncha Mutant Niggers, ain't he, horrible little fucking bastard. Wouldn't want him owning the nation's best football stadium would we? Clearly Dermot, the spectators'd be at risk of catching a fucking dose of the Andy Capp, every time they went down there, wouldn't they? 'Im running around the place all week when no bastard was there and wankin' all over the seats, like. And anyway, what with the running track being there nobody wouldn't be able to see nothing would they, being that far away from the pitch proper, so to speak, need fucking opera glasses, not that they'd know what opera was, Dermot, better off staying at home and watching it on Sky with Andy Gray and that other cunt. If you hadn't sacked them, that is.
Thanks Brian, but to return to Michael Spit-Gove, should he have resigned or should he have clung-on like they usually do. Sue, your thoughts...?
Well, Jeremy, speaking for the mentally crippled we have no objections to the schools falling down. Recent studies have show that naked learning in the rain, is quite a useful aternative to more traditional and sane-o-centric forms of tuition, like indoors. There is in this country, rather too much emphasis on what only seems to be normal but is in fact quite harmful to people with delusions, imbeciles, loonies and fullblown deranged psychobastards. As a means of learning there is much to be said for rolling around in the dirt and eating your own poo. It's a little known fact, Jeremy, but more than everybody in the country, five people out of every four, in fact, will at some point in their lives go mad. And so it is vital, therefore, that something be done and funds be provided. People just don't realise, Jeremy, that we all live with madness, never knowing when it's going to be our turn, and how would you, if you think you're Napoleon and spend all your time planning how to refight the Battle of Waterloo, as many of my members do. Or pretending you was prime minister when no bastard had elected you, never mind give you a fucking mandate to take the whole fucking country back into the Dark fucking Ages, excuse my French, Jeremy and so every day you had to pretend harder and harder that they had, even though they hadn't and, if you was mad enough, like, so to speak, to give 'em a chance to vote for you they'd send you packing right sharpish, I mean, Jeremy, just imagine the 'ell it must be, inside somebody's 'ead, like that, thinking they're prime minister, when they ain't. An' that's without starting on them selling the bleeding forests off or the Health service or gay bleeding weddings being held in the 'oly bleeding Church of bleeding England. I mean, being a shirtlifting ponce, like, is no worse'n being a paranoid bleeding schizophrenic, they're both mental illnesses, sent from 'Im up above, like, to test us, but you don't see my members demanding to run up the aisle of St Paul's Cafeedral, in leather trousers wiv no arses in em, waving their cocks about, scrap metal 'angin off their nipples and knobends and proclaiming their everlasting love before God - as fucking if, everlasting love, among poofters, do me a favour, love, I may be mad but I ain't fucking stupid. And they got the cheek to say that me and my Nutscape charity have to join the Big bleeding Society. God fucking help us, the world's gone bleeding mad, never mind just my members. Michael Gove? I seen him on the telly. He's a right fucking lunatic. I know everything, me; that's 'im, Fucking eejit. Spraying spit everywhere. He's worse than that old queen, Hatterjee.
Well, there we are, Michael Spit-Gove has been reversed in the courts again and the country doesn't quite know what to make of it, opinion, as ever, divided. It's the weather now, with some grinning fuckwit enthusing for all he's worth about organised rain; I'm not kidding you, organised rain, it's like being in the fucking Butlins Redcoats round here sometimes. And after the break we'll be speaking to the embattled Mr Spit-Gove himself about what it's like being the only non-millionaire public school fuckpig in the cabinet. Stay tuned. Or I'll send Kay Burley round your house.
Master Spit-Gove, too clever for his own good,
is currently in detention,
outside Mr Cameron's study.
Not that he does much studying,
thinks America won the Battle of Britain,
arsehole.
thinks America won the Battle of Britain,
arsehole.
4 comments:
Sums it up nicely, I think.
Will you just stop it now, mr ishmael, I am supposed to be making the Yorkshire Pudding at this very moment and between this and the Belfast Telegraph there is not a lot getting done.
Worthless loser is Gove. Gobby little prat should have been drowned at birth. it is not fair to let go around like that making a complete tit of himself. Education Secretary? Dear me, there is no God.
Might he be for the altar?
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