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Those still straining every sinew to save the bacon of Prime Minister Boris Johnson have reiterated that he was ambushed by cake, wine, fizz, spirits, party-goers he wanted present, and organised party 'activities' he was well up for. Six times.


When questioned by colleagues, the police, and under strict parliamentary oath on multiple occasions, there was definitely no Downing Street party during lockdown and absolutely no rules enforced by him on everybody including himself were broken.


If there was a party, he definitely didn't know one was going on in his own home. If he was photographed at a party partying, then everyone must wait to be reminded if they were there by Sue Gray. If it happened at least six times during strict national lockdown, then he only accidentally walked in on one of them for five minutes, but certainly no more than a couple of hours on his birthday and promptly left. If he was there for longer, then he was tied to a chair against his will and definitely didn't want to be there while he shouted 'Bobba want suckle-suckle' at the strippers.


If he was caught bang to rights at all of the parties like a rubbish thief who shits in the fridge, photographed several times, and proven to have uber-lied on multiple occasions to his colleagues, police, parliament, and the nation, then they weren't parties, they were highly important work meetings, or they were parties but in a place where the boundaries of work and home are blurred, or they were somehow both parties and not parties at the same time, or they were so unimportant because big things are happening now, or Keir Starmer having a beer is worse, or look over there at that expired pussy, or Europe did it, or whatever anybody with a brain the size of a mungbean might believe and let him off for. Again.


Any connection between a party he didn't go to on the 13th November 2020, and requirements to self isolate from the 15th November 2020 are purely coincidental. And the donkey at the party with Boris Johnson on the 13th has only been pixelated to protect its guilt.


Hat-tip Mick Turate


As her waters broke, cervix dilated and her 25%-off voucher expired, the unnamed lady dragged herself away from the lure of a sale on floral dresses. Groaning as her membranes ruptured, every maternal instinct made her abandon bargain kids clothing in the hope her child would be born to ‘a better future…with better stitching’. ‘I wanted more for my baby – like clothing that didn’t fall apart after two washes. Besides, I was worried that my umbilical cord would get mistaken for cheap belt.’






Aardman animation have today confirmed that Dominic Raab is one of their creations. They have also announced that previously they had unsuccessfully delved into the UK political arena with Ed Milliband.


A spokesman for Aardman said that Raab along with his half brothers Wallace, Gromit, Morph and Shaun the sheep take hundreds of hours to animate. They explained that the time consuming process of animation means that they can only provide Raab to speak on behalf of the Tory party in small chunks that are meticulously scripted, and this is why he is only seen on BBC breakfast.


”Once you realise that he’s a claymation creation, the palid, dough like complexion makes sense”


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