Meat War
The world is changing. Countries that we in the 'Developed World' previously thought of as barbarous and not even good for colonising are starting to blossom. And by blossom I do of course mean, attempting to keep pace with 'The West'. Which of course must not be tolerated.
The most significant aspect of this change is that, as previously less well-off countries become richer, their populations demand the food the rest of the world enjoys. That's right it's all about the meat. They're sick of rice or dust or children's tears or whatever it is they suck up through their malformed feeding holes and they want to eat the good stuff.
Yet as our brothers in newly 'rich' countries aim to draw level with us in the meat stakes (shut up), our rightly bloated, and Internets-conjoined 'First World' ego demands we eat ever more unusual meat, just to remind them how much better than them we remain.
So, here are the top ten meat meals we should be eating to prove we are still best...
10. Golden Eagle Burger with Lion Cub Eye Salsa
9. Komodo Dragon Balls Soup with Ring Tailed Lemur Balls Cake
8. White Tiger Curry with Orang-u-nan
7. Snow Leopard Chow Mein and Crispy Blue Whale Blowhole Pancakes
6. Black Rhino Jerky, washed down with Fresh Panda Essence (obtained using the extraction method favoured in the Dark Crystal)
But you know, the problem is, even when you're chomping down on the rarest meats, there's always going to be someone disproportionately rich in one of those "Look at us, look at, us we're not poor anymore, even though 87% of our population sleeps in an AIDS hat on a crisis infested straw mat" who can match you.
So with that in mind, we have to raise our game, go the extra mile and pull as many cliches as possible out of the virus protected hat. These are the foods to remind Johnny Third World just who is big bad ballsy best and who is a living crippled hope ....
5. Unicorn Flavour Pringles, with Ewok Dip
Unicorn - even comes with a free toothpick
4. Leprechaun Bolognaise with Shaved Obama-san
3. Ligur Kebabs in pitta bread made from the ground up bones of Sadam Hussein
2. Madeline McCann au Vin
1. Baby P and pickle sandwiches
Nom nom nom
Nanny State?
Do we have a nanny state? I don't think so. I believe it is fairly easy to tell whether or not we do, the signs would be as follows:
- Mary Poppins clears the scum off the streets by wiggling her nose. She then makes an audacious and wildly popular move to seize power, explaining that a spoonful of sugar helps democracy die down.
- The army is replaced by a throng of dancing animated penguins and the police force is replaced by small squadrons of soot-faced chimney sweeps, with dubious cockney accents and hearts of gold.
- Full financial recovery is achieved within months as the city's bankers are given some first-hand lessons in what is really important in life.
- The issue of binge drinking is resolved with the plummet in alcohol sales as a result of young people realising they can get high (up) simply by telling weak jokes and laughing hysterically.
- Umbrellas start talking.
Those are the signs of a nanny state. It is not here yet but I suggest we are all mindful. I'm sure we'd all rather have an overzealous government hell bent on eradicating our human rights under the guise of protection than have to ask Dick Van Dyke for directions.
Happy New Poverty
I am already utterly sick of 2009.
It's shiny and icy everywhere so I have to walk like I'm afraid to wake an angry giant. And it immediately feels like the kind of year we're going to have to endure rather than enjoy or manage. It's like an enormous slug with face cancer slithered all over the future and all our money and hope got stuck to it as it disappeared over the horizon.
Ringo Star Won’t Sign Your Books, Boobs or Bum
Ringo Star has made an announcement saying that after the end of October he will no longer sign autographs. Apparently he is "too busy". Too busy doing what, I'm not sure. Maybe he's recording albums. Maybe he's working tirelessly for charity.
Or perhaps he wants to devote more time to staying in his golden cave, crawling around atop his enormous pile of money and screaming tunelessly at passers-by.
Gordon Brown’s Economic Relief Package…
...is not as good as mine.
In every media channel, every day all you here is 'The worst financial disaster since the war' or words to that effect. They don't mention which war but I'm not sure that matters. However, there is a solution, inspired by that phrase; we simply invade Switzerland.
Stage one complete. Next we take back America...
I know, it seems radical but there are many reasons why this is the perfect solution to our predicament:
- They have loads of money.
- They are neutral, having no protective treaties, we don't need to worry about any military repercussions.
- We need to remind Russia who is the original and best at invading sovereign states (they may have forgotten about Iraq).
- They have really good chocolate.
- They have loads of money.
This bold strategy would not only safeguard our economy but re-establish Britain as the Empire Building Super Nation we would all like to believe we really are.
If you think we should invade Switzerland as a solution to our financial and national self esteem issues sign up to the petition here.
Comically Bankrupt
BNP favourite and none time funny man Jim Davidson is bankrupt. I suspect that if you asked him why, he would suggest that his 'comic' style was somewhat hampered by political correctness. Although he would be more likely to say something like "These days you can't even call a spade a spade without someone getting their kaftan in a twist".
Davidson is not the first 'comedian' to suffer from an inability to adapt to a changing social climate. In 1994 Bernard Manning was forced into poverty and resorted to selling layers of his fat for roof insulation to make ends meet.
In retirement Davidson will join a number of other ex-'entertainers' who's time has passed, including 'illusionist' Paul Daniels, perm-casualty Tommy Cannon, formerly of duo Cannon & Ball and below-par all rounder Brian Connolly. They will live out the remainder of their lives at a farm in Suffolk, housed in small wire cages in a barn and fed on the ground-up remains of other entertainers.