UK General Election 2017: After the suspension of campaigning that followed the terrorist outrage in Manchester on Monday, the major political parties are set to resume electioneering today by shamelessly using the attack as an excuse to kick the crap out of each other. In the new spirit of togetherness and compassion, obviously.
Trump’s world tour hailed ‘an unequivocal and totally unexpected success’ by White House: The US president has managed not to fondle Angela Merkel’s lady garden live on TV, administer a gratuitous wedgie to the Pope, call the Saudi king a towel-headed bomb-happy Muslim fanatic, spray obscene graffiti on the wailing wall or blow anything up (although he did assault the prime minister of Montenegro, just to stay in shape).
‘It’s okay! Pants right where they should be!’
This demonstration of iron self control makes the last week the most successful of Mr Trump’s presidency. In fact, the only successful week of Mr Trump’s presidency (provided the Montenegro PM recovers from his injuries).
Following England’s brave and spirited defeat to mighty Iceland at Euro 2016, David Cameron attempted to address a traumatised nation from the steps of No.10 this morning.
Supported by a weeping Nigel Farage, for most of his speech the Prime Minister remained completely inaudible through his tears, composing himself just long enough to say: ‘This is the worst thing that has ever happened to this country, and to me personally,’ before collapsing to the floor where he was comforted by the blubbing Boris Johnson.
Angela Merkel and Jean-Claude Juncker also attempted to make a joint statement following last night’s match, but couldn’t stop laughing long enough to get the words out.
The England defence in search of the bloody ball yesterday
Repercussions of the England team’s performance have been felt all over the country, as thousands of highly trained and generously remunerated professionals suddenly began failing to achieve even a minimum level of competence in their disciplines, apparently in sympathy with our courageous footballers.
On Salisbury Plain the Royal Marine Commandos – all of them – were defeated in battle by three elderly women riding mobility scooters. In defence of his regiment, a surviving Sargeant Major told us that the mobility scooters ‘looked quite new and one of the ladies was waving a pointy stick at us’.
At St Bartholomew’s Hospital, a team of doctors suddenly forgot what the hell they were doing half way through open-heart surgery, so they just shoved everything back in, fastened the patient up with bulldog clips and hoped nobody would notice.
At the Royal Festival Hall, the London Philharmonic Orchestra all of a sudden forgot how to play musical instruments and were forced to continue a performance of Richard Strauss’s epic opera Die Frau ohne Schatten on some hastily procured kazoos.
Across town in Covent Garden, during a performance of Stravinski’s Le Sacre du printemps, dancers of the Royal Ballet suddenly realised they didn’t a clue about doing ballet any more, and were reduced to bouncing up and down roughly in time to the music. Which is pretty much what Le Sacre du printemps is supposed to look like anyway.
Back in the England camp, it has been reported that, after twelve hours of trying, goalkeeper Joe Hart has finally managed to locate his own arse with both hands. Obviously, Manchester City have given him a pay rise.
In totally unrelated news: Spontaneous renditions of Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah and Oh, What a Beautiful Morning have reached record levels in Scotland today.
The Dalston Mercury 