Across the UK, many are having difficulty believing that what’s currently happening is real.
There’s a worldwide pandemic that we still haven’t seen the last of. There’s a war in Ukraine, which Putin started just to show how macho he is and prove he can’t possibly be gay, he just likes having photos taken with his top off. And to prove how sane he is, he’s also literally ‘gas-lighting’ Europe, by turning the gas off and on, probably cackling maniacally as he does so.
This year, an unprepared and un-air-conditioned UK has sweated through two 40˚C heatwaves, forcing us to realise that climate change isn’t something that only happens in David Attenborough documentaries.
We’ve endured ultimate omnishambles Boris Johnson as Prime Minister, consoling ourselves that surely, he was just a nightmare which couldn’t last. Then we woke up to the unbelievable reality of Liz Truss as PM, a woman whose brain has less power than a Poundland battery. Her one saving grace is that she can at least dress herself properly and use a hairbrush, unlike her predecessor who lumbered through his premiership looking like a roll of old loft insulation that had fallen out of a skip and been p*ssed on by foxes.
And now the Queen is dead. You don’t have to be a royalist to feel a sense of unreality and shock that she’s gone. Although most of us never met her, she was a constant presence throughout our lives. We saw her face every day on money and postage stamps. She was part of every Christmas, like the turkey dinner and family arguments. Now we have King Charles III as our monarch - a man who talks to plants, sells overpriced biscuits and thinks there is such a thing as 'left-over wine', which can be used to fuel a car. From now on, he’ll stutter and mumble on our TV screens every Christmas Day, and his face will be on the money – although with his ears and nose it’s hard to see how they’ll get it to fit, whichever way he faces.
As winter approaches, rocketing inflation means many will be unable to eat regularly or heat their homes, and even those who can afford to keep the lights on will be unable to because of power cuts. As we huddle together over a candle, surviving on food bank handouts, we must tell ourselves that surely this is just a fever dream, and we’ll wake up soon. Everything will be alright. This is Britain, after all.
According to reports from Downing Street, a leaving party held for outgoing Prime Minister Boris Johnson became a monumental p*ss-up, where alcohol flowed by the suitcaseful. An inebriated Boris was seen climbing onto a table, wearing a wastepaper bin on his head at a rakish angle, and holding a champagne bottle like a microphone he sang his own version of the Sinatra classic, ‘My Way’:
“And now, the end is near
And so I face the final curtain.
I’ve been a great PM,
The very best, of that I’m certain.
What fun! I’ve had a ball,
Not even lockdown could spoil my day,
I partied through it all,
Cos that is my way.
“Affairs, I’ve had a few,
And more kids than I can mention.
I told a lot of lies,
I was the master of invention.
I helped out all my mates,
I sent massive contracts their way.
And donations of cash
Came rolling my way.
“I know I hid inside a fridge,
But Cameron – he f*cked a pig!
Theresa May was kinda sad,
But now, she doesn’t seem so bad.
Though I made gaffes,
I had some laughs,
Cos that is my way.
“I steered the Brexit bus, painted with lies,
My hand was steady.
Yes, I got Brexit done,
The EU deal was oven ready.
And now the UK’s screwed -
Every which way, and sideways.
What else could you expect
When I did it my way?
“When Covid came along,
I wouldn’t heed the scientists’ warning,
I killed everyone’s Nan,
So many families in mourning.
I said, “Pile the bodies high”,
Like a c*nt, and not in a wry way.
Those plebs, I’d kill ‘em all
If I had my way.
“Each time a crisis came my way,
I buggered off on holiday.
Children are hungry, and they’re cold,
Well, f*ck ‘em all - and f*ck the old!
Let them eat cake,
Them’s the breaks.
No one stands in my way.
“I’ll thrive - my bank balance is big,
And I’ve got shares in Peppa Pig.
So, now I’ll leave without a fuss.
Good luck with Liz ‘One Brain Cell’ Truss!
Once, Britain boomed,
But now it’s doomed
Cos I did it MYYYY WAAAAAYY!"
After he’d finished singing, it is reported that Mr Johnson tried to take a bow, overbalanced, and fell off the table. He then shambled off into the garden, where he was sick in a thicket.