Monday, April 21, 2003

Thank God the war is over! I come out of me hidie-hole in the water tank this mornin', all 'appy that the Iraqis 'ad gone 'ome and the secret police were no longer after me, only t' discover me 'ole 'ouse 'ad been looted. There were squirrels stickin' their nuts be'ind me pottery shite horses on the mantlepiece. An' a badger 'ad taken up residue in me chamber pot! I got me broom to that double sharp, I can tell y'. It shot out of there like a nig nog from David Lynch leavin' nothing be'ind but an 'andful of raisons which I 'ad for me lunch.
I knew those Irabics would surrender by Easter Monday though! No-good muslin bastards ('scuse my Laposcoptomy)! They don't understand about Jesus Hoartio Christ and 'is death an' 'is big erection like what us decent folk do. My 'Enry, 'ee always used t' say, "Those sand wogs 'ave got the wrong sort of religion!" That's what 'ee said, God rest his fez. "They don't understand our peaceful ways and our fear of homoerotica what is wrong. That's why they're always fighting and why they wipe their arses with their fingers ('scuse me Nigger) and why we 'ave t' run 'em all through with our bayonets t' keep Jesus' world a sacreligious place." An' 'ee was right an' all. Well, 'ee was right about that. I'm not so sure 'ee was right about that Mrs Norbett from Caldwell Crescent 'oo liked t' sunbathe nude in 'er living room and was always askin' My Enry to fix 'er plumblines for 'er.
Any'ow, I left me closet and thought I'd better take one of those walk-in baths. Me sister, Thora, left me 'ers when she kicked the trough last month. I was covered in straw and pigeon shit ('scuse me Macmillan) so I 'eaded off for the little girl's room. An' 'oo should I see stumbling round the 'ouse in 'is dressing gown but me great, great, great, great, great grandson, Brian, what should 'ave been doin' me shoppin' an' pummicin' me bunions.
"'Ere," I says to 'im all impressive like. "W'at are you doin' not dressed for the Lord on a Sunday?"
"I've 'ad an operation," 'ee retorts in 'is ignorant mannerism. "'Ad me bladder out 'cos it was all wonky like."
"Good," says I. "Now y' know w'at it's like! And y' can empty my bag when you empties yours at the same time, can't y'?"
So I un'itches me cafeteria and I 'ands 'im the bottle which 'adn't been emptied for four weeks on account o' me 'iding.
An' I dropped it.
Well y' should 'ave 'eard the hullabaloo!
"Look at the state o' me bleedin' curtains!" Our Brian was yellin'. "I only 'ad 'em dry cleaned last week y' silly old bag!"
I'm nine 'undred an' eighty-five y' know? An' I don't need some bladderless upstart tellin' me what my own business looks like!

Sabu Abudozy, the young Iraqi boy whose entire family were lost (why is it that Iraqi civilians are 'lost' but US servicemen are 'killed'?) along with both his arms, his ambitions to be a doctor and whatever privacy his former life had afforded him, is now said to be 'off the critical list.' Due to a special humanitarian import of Savlon his burns are reduced to a single scab just below his right knee. "Quite normal in a boy of his age," commented Dr Patel Ole F'Tang F'Tang of Baghdad Central.
George Bush himself, in an effort to restore public confidence, is donating two plastic arms and a 'Children's First Medical Set' to Sabu, along with a patriotic star spangled banner and the promise that American troops are set to stay in Iraq for several million oil drums decades.
So that's all right then.
Since the anti-climax of the Iraq war, ten thousand dead have been resurrected by Baby Jesus and Tony bin Blair, the servicemen who died in the conflict between British and American troops have been buried with honours and will never be forgotten...well, they won't be forgotten by their parents anyway...Baghdad has been liberated by the Ba'athist party who are back policing the streets...and the entire Middle East has learned a valuable lesson about 'Fucking with America' that they won't forget in a hurry.
"We are now entering a time of World Peace and the Second Coming of my tiny penis Jesus," said Dubya floating above the White House on a bungy rope in training for the Rapture.
The ten thousand dead and maimed in Iraq were unavailable for comment.

Meanwhile, in Britain, several career-disabled pop stars have released an album to help the people of Iraq. "It must be like really hard for them," said Travis. "Not having anything but that Muslim shite to listen to all day. We thought we'd give them some proper music. It might be a bit old and none of us have had a hit single since 1986, but it's got to be an improvement on Saddam Sings Sinatra."
Robbie Williams was unavailable for comment.

Elsewhere, British schoolteachers are calling for the abolition of exams for seven-year-olds. "The tests prove that British seven year olds are the most literate youngsters in Europe," said a smarmy government minister this afternoon. "I don't understand what the problem is."
"The problem is," replied senior members of the NUT. "They might be good at reading but they haven't got a clue what the words actually mean. For a generation brought up on rap music and BBC bollocks anything intelligent is beyond their comprehension. The lips move but the translation of the literature is lost."
George Bush's speechwriter was unavailable for comment.