Boris "Fuzzy-Wuzzy" Johnson

On the occasion of the British Foreign Secretary not understanding that colonial poetry is not best read out on visits to former colonies..

 

So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, as you swan around the world,
With your maaah, and wiff-waff jollity, while the chaos is unfurled.
An 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, with your Brexit plans in play,
As you sit along the sidelines, plotting the fall of May

So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, with your Bullingdon Club style
You're a self-regarding tossbag, but one who's worth a pile.
An 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, with your game show host decorum
As you even convince Trump's men you cannot be relied on.

So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, making news where-e'er you go
Risk our futures on a pitch-and-toss, then fumbling your throw
An 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, Garden Bridge gone down the pan,
You big great streak of shite - what a poor excuse for man.

So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in London Town,
You're embarrassing to all of us, not noticing our frown.
An' 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, with your 'ayrick 'ead of 'air -
You incompetent buffoon - please fuck off over there.

The Greatest Love of All

I believe the children are our future
Teach them that they have to pay their way
Show them all the debt they can have for life
Give them a sense of shame
To make it easier

Let the children's ardure
Let us live how it used to be.
Everybody searching for a scapegoat
People need someone to look down on
Never found anyone I couldn't crush their dreams.

A lonely place to be
So learned just to care 'bout me.

I decided long ago, never to care about anyone's hardship
If I fail, if I succeed
At least I'll live as I believe
No matter what I take from thee
As long as I take your dignity

Because the greatest love of all
Is happening to me
I found the greatest love of all
Inside of me.
The greatest love of all
Is easy to achieve
Learning to love yourself
Is the greatest love of all.

Sympathy for Theresa

Please allow me to introduce myself
I'm a May of wealth and taste
I've been around for a long, long year
Stole Maidenhead’s seat to waste

And I was 'round when Cameron
Had his moment of doubt and pain
Made damn sure that Osborne
Stood aside, and then was gone

Pleased to meet you
Hope you guess my name
But what's puzzling you
Is the nature of my game

I stuck around 10 Downing Street
When I saw it was a time for a change
Saw off all other ministers
Boris Johnson screamed in vain

I rode the wave
On the general craze
When the Brexit raged
And the economy caved

I watched with glee
While the Labour party
Fought internally
And not over me
(Woo woo, woo woo)

I shouted out,
Who killed the opposition?
When after all
It was you and me

Let me please introduce myself
I'm a May of wealth and taste
And I laid traps for progressives
All shot down before they change the game
(Woo woo, who who)

Pleased to meet you
Hope you guessed my name, oh yeah
But what's confusing you
Is just the nature of my game
(Woo woo, who who)

Just as every cop is a criminal
And all the sinners saints
As heads is tails
Just call me Theresa
'Cause I'm in need of some restraint
(Who who, who who)

So if you meet me
Have some courtesy
Have some sympathy, and some taste
(Woo woo)
Use all your well-learned politics
Or I'll lay Britain to waste, mm yeah
(Woo woo, woo woo)

Pleased to meet you
Hope you guessed my name, mm yeah
(Who who)
But what's puzzling you
Is the nature of my game, mm mean it, get down
(Woo woo, woo woo)

 

Negotiation Roleplay, With Theresa May

Welcome to this week's course on "Negotiation Roleplay".  Now, this week we'll be demonstrating techniques for successful negotiating techniques.

OK, you two, settle down.  We're going to be roleplaying a difficult negotiation.  Say you're wanting to renegotiate a previous supply contract with your, say, outsourced catering department.  You want it to be less formal, for instance.  OK, Theresa, take it away.

"I'M GOING TO BE A BLOODY DIFFICULT WOMAN!"

Err, not really what I had in mind.  Perhaps Junker, you can kick us off.

"We insist you pay the existing bill first, and then we can discuss a new contract."

OK, that's not too bad.  Perhaps at least some pleasantries first?

"Hello.  We would like to thank you for your custom over these years, and want to ensure you're aware if you ever want the on-site catering again, we're more than happy to help you.  We would like you to pay your existing bills before we settle on a new contract, though."

OK, that sounds reasonable.  Theresa?

"I'M GOING TO BE A BLOODY DIFFICULT WOMAN!"

Err, how is that helping?

"We're not going to pay a penny until you give us a new contract."

"We could take you to the small claims court, you know?"

"I'M GOING TO BE..."

Oh, come come now, this really isn't helping.  Look, Theresa, any chance you could start off with a calm position so we can look at how this will play out?

"I don't want to pay anything."

But you've had the catering, right?

"No."

What?

"We've paid money for catering.  Lots of money.  We've been a net contributor to catering."

Possibly, but you've only paid until last year, and you've got more food coming, right?

"No.  We decided to stop having food."

But next year.  You're having food until next year.

"Which we're not paying for."

"See what we have to deal with?  She's living in another galaxy."

Oh dear, is that the time?  Well, I guess we'll just have to stop there.  I hope you've all learned something.  Remember, starting this weeks is Politics for Numpties, where we explain how things will change radically and your situations will all get better by electing the same unfeasibly rich people over and over again and ignoring the fact that every time you've elected them in the past things, for you specifically, have got worse.

Have a nice week.

Ode to a POTUS

(If you're not aware of Robert Burns's "Ode to a Haggis" then (a) you should be ashamed of yourself, and (b) go and find someone reading it out in a thick Scottish accent on YouTube right now before looking at this).

I ran across SCOTUS, which sounds Scottish, but stands for “Supreme Court of the United States”, which people use as a hashtag when referring to it.  POTUS is the twitter handle for the US President.  And it sounds a bit like haggis (yes it does, so shush), so…

Ode to a POTUS

No’ fair your great big orange face,
Great shame upon the human race.
Your manners lack even a trace
O’ statesman’s vision
Well are ye worthy of disgrace,
And my derision.

The shameful seat which now ye’ fill
Your presence quite a bitter pill
That we must now endure until
Your term is o’er
Then celebrate we surely will
As you lose power.

Your life has seen no labouring blight
A lack of empathy that might
Have given you a little sight
Of honest poor
That maybe you would know their plight
Not show the door.

Them, those: the poor, they stretch an strive
Deil tak the hindmost, down they dive
Till all their hard-won chance in life
Are stretched like drums
Wi’ poverty and failure rife
American dreams.

Is there that hates his French Hollande,
Or Merkel, Tsipras, or the band
O’ leaders who at least can stand
That fear abates
People who haven’t blindly fanned
The fires of hate.

That devil, doing anything allowed
Denying numbers of a crowd
His head never being bowed
To honour brains
No!  Simply talking ever loud-
-er over men.

Ye pow’rs, wha mak mankind your care
And give them elections, sometimes fair,
Before any countries war declare
One change before us?
So lord, I ha’ just one wee prayer
Gi’ me a [better] POTUS!

Fitness Watches Less Useful Than Shouty Drunk, Research Finds

In a trial conducted in what has to be admitted is a very dull office in Basingstoke, researchers found that an annoying watch buzzing when it wants you to get up had a 45% less chance of achieving that aim than a drunk bloke called Baz running through the office shouting “I’ve had a feckin’ skinful, by the way”.

According to Gill Flatliner-Placemat, who works in HR for legal firm Corpus, Corpus and Deathgrip: “I find the buzzing annoying, and sometimes I get up, but when Baz burst into our office we all had to run for the door.  I did two hundred steps before I knew it, plus there’s a bonding experience in all trying to hide in the stationery cupboard together.  It’s really transformed our working environment.”

Sales of “Drunken Baz Experience” vouchers rocketed on the news, and it is expected that the government is going to present a “Drunken Baz” bill in the next parliament in the hope that it will more than pay for itself in reduced NHS expenses.

British Government apologies after stationery found not to have “No Offence” pre-printed.

A spokesman from St James’s this morning issued a press release: “As part of the government’s austerity measures, the pre-printed stationery was replaced with a bulk purchase from Ryman’s.  It was expected that ambassadors would add the customary ‘No Offence’ line to the end of their own communiqués from here on.  We unreservedly apologise to the US government for Mr Whittingly-Whittingly-Whittingly’s unfortunate letter.”

The letter in question was received by the US Secretary of State last week, stating “What the fuck did you guys just do?  You do realise you’ve elected an utter cockwomble.”

A spokesman for the US Embassy in London said “We were shocked.  Shocked.  I mean, if you guys had added no offence to the end we’d have put it down to that famous British humor of yours.  Although we might have had to look up what exactly you mean my ‘cockwomble’.  But without that, I’m afraid it’s war.”

Mr Whittingly-Whittingly-Whittingly was unavailable for comment, as he had last been seen entering a darkened room with a small revolver and a bottle of whisky, as is customary on these occasions.

Headline Agrees With What You Already Thought

Readers were shocked today to find out that sometimes a news story doesn’t actually say what the headline does, and were scientifically proven to be utter twatwads when they shared the post on social media without reading it.

Bob Holnes (no relation) of East Finchley (no relation), said “The headline agreed with me, and that’s enough, right?  I don’t want to waste my time actually reading shit.  What’s that about?  I’ve got to get back to my casual racism and discussing all the issues I believe in with all the guys down the pub who agree with me.  Oh, and my balls aren’t going to scratch themselves, are they?”

Dr Edgar Fanhangle (no relation), Professor of Confirmation Bias at the University of Ennui, Basingstoke, said “That’s an obvious case of confirmation bias, one of the clearest I’ve ever seen” before we’d even told him what we wanted to talk to him about.

A local reader, Peter McKenzie (no relation), said “It’s no good.  I tell them the article is made up, or doesn’t actually say what they think, but they carry on sharing it.  I don’t understand.  Why don’t they read it?”  He then began sobbing quietly.

Restaurants to be forced to draw up list of “Foreign Foods”

After a leaked memo from DEFRA, it appears the latest preparation for Brexit is to require all restaurants, including take-aways, to be required to draw up a list of foreign foods, defined as foods which have appeared in Britain since the 1972 European Act.

According to inside sources, this will then be combined with a cooling-off period of 14 days.  When asked how this work work in practice, Winston McDoofluff, legal consultant for the government, said "If, to take a merely random example, a consumer orders a pizza, then they will be required to wait 14 days, eating only 'Good honest British food, like meat and two veg'.  If then, at the end of the cooling-off period, they still for some inexplicable reason want a two-week-old takeaway pizza, they will then have it delivered as normal."

After a short pause, McDoofluff added: “This should get rid of all those foreign-sounding foods quickly, and greatly benefit the pasty industry, which we’re mainly supporting because opposition politicians don’t know how to eat them and look stupid.  Won’t affect us much, as our conference final dinner consists mostly of swan.”

The quinoa lobby is said to be furious, but unable to campaign effectively due to the difficulty of spelling and pronouncing their lobby group’s name.

Taylor Swift Philosophy 101.

Q1: From the original text (2014): “The haters gonna hate hate hate hate hate”  Discuss.

OK.  So, let’s break this down.

The haters gonna hate.  Well, yes.  That’s what they do.  They hate.  They generically hate.  They’re probably professional haters or something.  That’s fine.

The haters gonna hate hate.  Well, this is an intermediate step, because at this point they would hate the very essence of hate.  They wouldn’t love – no.  They would hate the hate.  They would find a visceral reaction to hate itself.

The haters gonna hate hate hate.  Aha, we are back to consistency.  Now the haters are hating their previous hatred of the essence of hate.  Again, there is no love here.  There is a hatred of the fact of despising the hate.  At attack on those who hate their now-implied hatred, perhaps.

The haters gonna hate hate hate hate.  Let’s not linger here, for here lies madness.  For at this point we are, in the role of “the haters”, hating the hatred of the fact of despising the hate.  We look at the people who hate the original essential hate, and we hate to hate them.

The haters gonna hate hate hate hate hate.  OK, hang on to your heads here, we’re going for it.  Remember the people who viscerally hated the people who hated their hatred?  Well, now we’re (still playing the role of “the haters”) hating those intermediate haters who were hating the very essence of our original fire-hose of hatred.

I tell you, Taylor Swift is deep, man.

Next Week: Gender stereotypes and their over-reactionary opposites as played out in “Blank Space”.

We're Going on a Beer Hunt

We're going on a beer hunt
We're going to catch a big one
What a beautiful day
We're not scared

What's that?
A pub
A big friendly pub
We can't go over it
We can't go under it
Oh well, we'll have to go into it

Slurpy slurpy
Slurpy slurpy

We're going on a beer hunt
We're going to catch a big one
What a beautiful day
We're not scared

What's that?
A bar
A long beer-serving bar
We can't go over it (that would be a high-jump)
We can't go under it (that would be limbo)

Gluggy gluggy
Gluggy gluggy

We're going on a beer hunt
We're going to catch a big one
What a beautiful day
We're not scared

What's that?
A gastropub?
A real ale gastropub
We can't go over it
We can't go under it
Oh dear.  We'll have to go into it

Drinky drinky
Drinky drinky

We gong on a bee hun
We gong on a bee hun
What a booful da
We're not scared - who you calling scared? - you starting something?

Wassat?
Last orders?
Already? Last orders?
We can't go over it - oh for feck's sake
Quick everyone!  Order!

Quick, real ale!
Drinky drinky
Drinky drinky
Quick, beer!
Gluggy gluggy
Gluggy gluggy
Quick, more beer
Slurpy slurpy
Slurpy slurpy

Back to the hotel,
Back to our rooms,
Into bed,
Oh no! We forgot to get changed.  Oh sod it.
Wake up.
Head hurting.
We're not going on a beer hunt again.
(Yeah, right)