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"Prigozhin, you pussy!" news consumer yells to himself



"Is that it, Prigozhin, you pathetic pussy!" a consumer of online news yelled out to no one but himself on Sunday morning, throwing his device into a corner of his bedroom in dejection.


Friends of the online news consumer, who lives in Swindon, say he had been gearing himself up since the small hours of Saturday morning for what he predicted down the pub at lunchtime would be "a perfectly good civil war in Russia".


"He was doing his nut that the motorised column of Wagner mutineers had moved to within 200 kilometres of Moscow, and that the authorities were ripping up the motorway to stop their advance," continued a friend of the news consumer.


"I think it lent excitement to his rather empty, humdrum life.


"He was crushed when he learnt that Prigozhin had made a deal with Putin via the president of Belarus to go into exile, and that the rebel Wagner forces would be returning to Ukraine. He wanted a ruck.


"Now all our news consumer friend has to look forward to in his life is some miraculous breakthrough by Ukrainian forces in the Zaporizhzhia region, and for Trump to go to prison and get shivved by some ultra-violent Democrat voter in the showers."




First published 27 Jun 2023


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Boris 'Would be mad to seek psychological help'



While many Prime Ministers would be reeling after losing two by-elections, a party chair and a packet of cheese strings on the same day, Boris Johnson was reported to be upbeat, if a little disappointed to have lost the cheese strings. 'Boris likes his cheese,' explained an aide.


The suggestion he might need psychological evaluation was poo-poo'd. 'You'd have to be mad to see a shrink,' said one supporter, while another suggested that the Prime Minister had 'put the loop in "fruit loop", or was it the fruit? Whatever.'


'He's definitely put the "sh!t" in "sh!t for brains",' said another supporter, who didn't want to be named (but sits next to Boris in PMQs, holds the purse strings and covets his job).



First published 26 Jun 2022


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Bohemian Rish-sody



Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?


Facing a landslide, no escape from reality


Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see


I'm just a To - ry, I’ll get no sympathy


Because I'm easy come, easy go, rose too high, falling low


Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to me, to me





Tories, I screwed it up


I put a gun against your head


I called election, now you’re dead


Tories, my term had just begun


But now I've gone and thrown it all away


Tories, ooh-ooh, looks like you’re gonna fry


If I'm not back again this time tomorrow


Vote me out, vote me out, the country is in tatters





Too late, the polls have come


Send shivers down my spine, MPs lying all the time


Goodbye, everybody, I'm going to go


Gotta leave you all behind to emigrate


Tories, ooh-ooh (any way the cash goes)


I’m not gonna die


But I sometimes wish I never had stood at all





I see a little spineless tosser of a man


Roland Rat, Roland Rat, will you do us all a favour?


Arguing and fighting, very, very frightening me


(Nigel Farage) Boris Johnson, (Nigel Farage) Boris Johnson


They’re the ones to blame - and bloody Go-o-o-o-ove





I'm just a rich boy, nobody loves me


He's just a bell-end from a rich family


Spare his rich wife from this monstrous defeat





Easy con, track and trace, money in a sack


Michelle Mone


No, she will not give it back (give it back)


Michelle Mone


No, she will not give it back (give it back)


Michelle Mone


No, she will not give it back (give it back)


She will not give it back (give it back)


She will not give it back (give it back)


She will not give it back (give it back)


Never, never, never, got a boat to fund


No, no, no, no, no, no, no





Oh, Maggie Thatcher, Maggie Thatcher


Maggie Thatcher, let me go


Americans have a job put aside for me, for me, for me





So you think you can dump me and spit in my eye?


So you think you can hate me and leave me to die?


Oh, Tories, can't do this to me, Tories


Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here


Ooh, yeah, ooh, yeah





Nothing really matters, except my money


Nothing else matters


Nothing else matters to me


Any way the wind blows, he'll go




H/T Sinnick for lyric suggestions


Image: Sinnick & Modelmaker


With apologies to Mick Rock, Photographer and the estate of Freddy Mercury, Songwriter.




First published 25 Jun 2024


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