We beat the gormless bastards! At last a taste of victory has passed our lips, with a great, stonking win for UKIP! The night results were announced was one for the history books. Everyone at the party was decked out in purple. I must’ve had fifteen bacon rolls, six or seven cartons of fags, and at least twenty pints. We were beyond pissed, beyond blotto, beyond squiffed—I do believe we were quite positively trolleyed.
I know, I know…what are a few more European Parliament seats? It’s not as if we’ve chased the EU’s wispy gremlin of a president, Herman Van Rompuy, into hiding, or even so much as marked the datebook for a referendum on membership. Nothing, at bottom, has yet been achieved. But can you blame us for celebrating? This is the most nothing we’ve accomplished in twenty years of arduous labour!
United Kingdom Independence Party
You simply must keep your eye on the goal! While you were besotting yourself, the evil Count Van Rompuy abducted one child from each EU country to use in an old pagan Belgian ritual to increase the power of his dark bureaucratic magick. By the time the forces of light can once again be marshaled, the Count may have already shape-shifted into another form. Vigilance, good sir!
We are happy to see that the idea of reparations for slavery is being discussed seriously once more. Our ancestors were exploited for generations, toiling ceaselessly in the sun to build monuments to the power of a growing imperial state. We have waited to be made whole for more than four millennia—and now the time has come for the people of Egypt to offer amends. Alas, the tools of persuasion at our disposal no longer include hordes of frogs, and we’d lose public opinion—not to mention make an enemy of the World Health Organization—if we tried to turn the waters of the Nile into blood. How can we convince leaders in Cairo to do the right thing?
Kevin, son of Nekoda, son of Libni, son of Shearjashub, etc. etc. etc.
Exodus Was Not Enough Coalition
The first step is to lay your reparations proposal out in specific detail—and have the numbers audited by a reputable firm, such as Ernst & Jung. These types of things always get hung up on questions of accounting! Who gets paid, and how much? Ancient Egypt used hard currency (and subscribed to trimetallism—gold, silver, and copper—which must’ve pleased the William Jennings Bryan of the day), but workers were generally paid in commodities, such as grain or beer. If a laborer earned 50 sacks of wheat per year, we can multiply by a modest 3 percent rate of inflation, times four thousand years, and figure that you are each owed about 250,000 sacks. Unfortunately no records remain indicating the size of the sacks Egyptians used…
Any hot news tips? Washington is just too placid in August. Congress recesses, all the bureaucrats go on vacation, nobody returns our calls. We’re always scraping the bottom of the barrel in the summer, and we inevitably end up with some puff story about a chihuahua that got hit by a car, but he was an organ donor, and his liver was transplanted into somebody else’s pet ferret, and the tragedy bonded the families into best friends, and now they go to the beach together and they only rent one bungalow because they’re so close. Crap. Total crap. This is supposed to be a newspaper, not Weeping with Oprah Quarterly. So: What’s the scuttlebutt in the GOP these days? Who’s up? Who’s down? Who’s messin’ around? Please, do tell.
The Washington Post
Mr. Press Baron—
No potential avenues of inquiry spring to mind? Benghazi? IRS? Obamacare? Veterans Affairs? Don’t worry. I’m sure your enterprising reporters will think of something. Ted Cruz probably gave a kid a noogie in the first grade, and you can cite firsthand accounts to draw broad conclusions about the forty-something senator’s character. Or there’s always stories about diversity and disparate impact. Did you know that only 17 percent of federal jobs are held by people with attached earlobes—this despite the fact that such people make up 61 percent of the population? A nefarious scheme must be afoot!
I swear, I didn’t know about this stuff with the VA until I saw it in the news. Heck, until I heard Wolf Blitzer talking about the VA on CNN, I never even knew it was an acronym. (For years I have been pronouncing it “vaa,” like the sound a sheep makes.) Anyway, now I’m in trouble over this whole business with Eric Shinseki—who is more like Eric Shin-sucky-at-his-jobby. What to do?
Simple: “Wag the Dog.” No, literally. Take the First Pooch, Bo, out for an impromptu walk around D.C. and the public and press will fawn. Just make sure that Bo has his organ donor card on him. You never know what might happen—or when your grief could save the life of a humble ferret. Did you see last week’s Post?