Keir Starmer has declared war on littering. His first salvo is an announcement that vehicles involved in fly-tipping would be crushed – occupied or not.
'Up to them, innit', he told reporters before taking a drag on his Marlboro. 'Best be quick though, them electromagnets can lift a jam about eighty feet in the air faster than you can shit yerself'.
Other measures against litterers include 'community snipers', paid on a bounty basis.
'Stands to reason dunnit', said the Prime Minister. 'We can use special forces or make it a genuine community affair and train little old ladies. Maybe get a brass band along, organise a Summer Fete, Morris dancers, that sort of thing. As long as the scumbags get the message, I don't care who pulls the f*cking trigger'.
When asked whether he was consciously trying to toughen up his image to stave off the threat from Reform, Starmer reacted angrily.
'Listen you slaag, we've tried playing nicely and the streets are full of shit. What do you want me to do, send 'em to Bruges first? Look at the swans and the canals? If that was me, if I'd dropped a used coke can in the street I'd top myself, on the spot. Crushing's too good for 'em'.
Community groups have expressed some reservations about the policy. The National Trust have pointed out that 'corpses are litter, too', the British Brass Band Association flat refuse to work with Morris dancers after that fiasco in Coventry and the Women's Institute have asked where they can sign up for training.
Image: WixAI
'There is no justification for my comments,' admitted a tearful Clive Haw-Haw, speaking after his shock resignation as editor-in-chief of The Daily Schweinhund.
'What I said was reckless, damaging and morally indefensible. I probably don't deserve to go on living.'
'We're still in disbelief,' said the Schweinhund's senior reporter. 'We were in the morning meeting, planning to do a totally true story about how 10,000 people in Basildon had contracted Aids and herpes after casting their votes for Labour, and the publisher asked whether there were any more totally true stories we could fabricate to make Starmer's life a misery.
'Then we heard the editor murmur: 'I don't know. Maybe we should give him a chance.'
'Well, we had to act fast. We hustled him out of the newsroom and straight down to the Newspaper Editors Guild, where we sat him down in front of his peers on the Horst Wessel Committee of Dementedly Right-Wing Papers.
'They stripped him of his job, along with his John Major memorial underpants, and his signed photo of Alan Clark doing a secretary. Then they turfed him out, naked and penniless, onto the streets of Labour's Britain - since he seemed to like it so much.'
'After this disgrace, I will retreat from the rat race,' said Mr Haw-Haw. 'I will wander the face of the Earth, devoting myself to Bad Works. I'll kick pensioners' sticks away and steal candyfloss from kids at fairs in the hope that eventually Britain's leading Tories will accept me back as one of their own - a thorough-going, unmitigated schweinhund.'
Image by Hanne Hasu from Pixabay