Tuesday, January 21, 2003

James Herriot's Christopher Timothy says:


"You'll be dead soon so buy some life insurance."



97: John Prescott. Deliberately born in 1951 so that he'd missed the Second World War, Prescott soon began to put on weight due to the forced feeding of offal pies and slabs of lard by his old fashioned parents. By the age of six he'd reached a staggering 32 stone per leg and often used his jowls to trip up the other children in his playground. After being voted School Bully for 1959 Prescott took up boxing, becoming one of the political heavyweights by the 1970s but still pursing his old career of bullying toddlers until the ripe old age of 52. By now his weight was becoming a problem for the infrastructure of the old Yorkshire roads and he was moved to the more solid grounds of Westminster in two very large jaguars. (One for each breast.)


Finding it more and more difficult to financially support his three Indian elephants and four bucket of marsupials a day habit, Prescott decided to sell off his greatest assets, those being his socialist principles. When elected to office of Deputy Prime Minister in the early 1990s his chin measured a colossal fifteen feet round with a dimple of 84 yards in depth. In later years his heart was transplanted for something more adequate to take the strain, namely a pebble. After telling egg-wielding reporters to "Fuck off or 'ee'd lamp 'em one" during a routine wobble through Snowdonia Prescott was finally arrested for having child pornography tattooed round his neck. "It was like the Bayou tapestry," commented Chief Inspector Brush of the Yard. "Only more explicit and involvin' bananas."


Prescott is now buried at his luxury garage in Northumberland and stretches for more than thirteen miles along Hadrian's Wall.



Over one third of Britain's military has now been sent to the Gulf in preparation for a war with Iraq that the government claim they hope won't happen. Back at home the fire brigade are about to go on strike again. (Who can blame them, really? I mean the war...ahem...possible war, is going to cost somewhere in the region of 30 billion quid in bombs and tanks alone.) Unfortunately this means that the remaining military will be occupied putting out fires rather than defending the country. "This is outrageous!" a spokesperson for the Conservative Party spat into his porridge this morning. "We could be invaded by any old crack pot and there'd be sod all we could do about it." To further heighten tensions the Welsh Assembly showed clear signs of taking advantage of England's difficult situation this morning when it rounded up 15,000 sheep and amassed them along Offer's Dyke. The Prime Minister was not available for comment as he was having plastic surgery to narrow his tongue after President Bush's sphincter muscles tightened in anger last Thursday.