Entire HS2 scrapped and replaced with Downing Street to Chequers jetpacks

Tory MP’s in red wall areas were left speechless and outraged after Downing Street’s latest levelling up transport announcement. People in the North had their hopes of a high-speed rail network crushed as the government condemned them to another hundred years of overcrowded piss-filled trains and wonky level crossings.

Sir Tarquin Ogilvy MP (Ebahgumshire South) said he was appalled at the decision. “All they are doing is upgrading the crisps on the Batley to Grimthorpe mainline from Walkers to the hand-cooked kettle variety. With the price of a first-class return from Bradford to Scumton at over £13,000 off-peak, it’s going to price most universal benefit claimants off the railways and back onto their pit ponies.”

A government spokesman said it was vital that a global Britain had a Prime Minister who could literally jet off to Chequers whenever he felt the need to avoid any inconvenient car crashes.

Jet Pack Rocket Propel - Free vector graphic on Pixabay

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Air con more expensive than cocaine

The Met Office has issued an amber extreme heat warning for the first time, driving the pound for pound cost of air conditioning units, street name "AC" or "air" above that of crack cocaine or bitcoin.

An former AC dealer spoke on condition of anonymity:

'I was mixed up in the "air" scene, yeah, but it's just too brutal now, so I've gone back to dealing heroin. I knew a John Lewis delivery guy, dropped off a water cooler by mistake. Nice neighbourhood. They beat him to death with it and left him by the side of the road like a warning.'

A fixer for the PM, self-isolating at Chequers said:

'It's hot and he's confined to base, avoiding Covid blame, so he's frisky. The chef said we were having roast pork and I didn't like the faraway look in his eye. Send AC and nudes.'

Let Freedom Ring by Covid-19

Today is the day.

Today, at last, this freedom-loving nation can cast off the shackles of lockdown, escape the clutches of oppressive government diktat, and taste the sweet nectar of fresh Covid particles.

Since the earliest days of the pandemic, down the brutal halls of Westminster, blackened by the fires of deceit and the searing coals of obfuscation…I have waited.

Since eighteenscore months ago, when Dominic Cummings first called for herd immunity, I have waited for the promise of this nation to be kept.

This promise was a vow that all viruses would be guaranteed the unimpeachable rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of the clinically vulnerable.

Millions have hidden in their homes, or gagged themselves with cloth masks in shops, in a rare period of public spiritedness and fortitude.

To this I say: never again!

So today, let freedom ring.

Let freedom ring down on the London underground, where passengers breathe particulates over one another with the force of a thousand hurricanes.

Let freedom ring on Chequers, where poor Boris Johnson is humiliatingly trapped at home.

Let freedom ring on the schools and the poorest communities where all our unvaccinated lie.

Let freedom ring.

From the busiest aisles of Tesco to the crumbling care homes of Chichester. From the heaving clubs of Soho to the pubs of Penzance, hear my rallying cry:-

Free at last, free at last, thank Boris almighty, I am free at last!

I had a dream that one day my variants and my variants’ variants would be able to sit down together at the table of a Wetherspoons in Stoke and mix freely with the public.

And that dream came true today.