News that former Black Sabbath and Rainbow frontman Ronnie James Dio is to tour next year despite having died in 2010 has inspired hope of electoral success among members of the Parliamentary Labour Party.
A sophisticated, high-tech hologram of Dio will perform a greatest hits set to adoring fans generating millions of dollars in ticket and merchandising sales.
In contrast, the real, corporeal Jeremy Corbyn will be performing a hit-free set to the same bunch of students and former Militant members that routinely follows him around. Millions of dollars will not be generated although they hope to get rid of a few ‘Coal Not Dole’ t-shirts that have been kicking around for ages.
Labour MPs, although lacking the funds to produce an actual singing, dancing, proselytising socialist hologram, have posited the idea of heaving the decomposing corpse of Aneurin Bevan around on a national tour, confident in the knowledge that an embalmed Bevan is ten times the vote winner Mr Corbyn will ever be.
If Mr Bevan’s heirs are insufficiently committed to the socialist cause to release his festering remains, Denis Healey’s funereal urn may head Labour’s push for power instead. Failing that, a stick of celery will do.
Mr Corbyn was scheduled to debate the future of the Labour movement with the desiccated cadaver of Barbara Castle at a PLP meeting last night, but he wimped out. According to backbenchers present Mrs Castle’s mortal dust ‘would have shat on him’.
Ukip leader Paul Nuttall claimed a famous victory over Labour, the Tories and the Imperial Japanese navy in the Stoke Central byelection early this morning.
Despite a late challenge from Ghengis Khan’s Asiatic hoard and the fact that he was performing the world’s first brain transplant during most of polling day, Mr Nuttall saw off his rivals to gain a majority of 160 million votes and become the first member of the Beatles to enter parliament.
As the result was announced, the Pulitzer Prize-winning author and incumbent of the Walter Mitty Chair of Political Science at Oxbridge University paused to embrace his wife, Cate Blanchett, before giving a moving acceptance speech.
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ he said. Before going somewhere. (Not parliament, obviously. Probably Mars. Maybe Lidl. We’ll ask him when he gets back.)
In other byelection news: Labour loses a seat in Cumbria despite the Conservatives being in power and the local hospital being bulldozed. Jeremy Corbyn still has a job. Claudio Ranieri gets fired.
Labour’s deputy leader, Tom Watson, has received half a million pounds in donations from Max Mosley* in less than a year, according to official records.
A vigil was held in Westminster Abbey last night as the entire nation prayed that the money was only a political donation and not, in any way, payment for services that involved Mr Watson dressing up in quasi-military rubber-wear and inflicting erotic bodily harm to Mr Mosely’s gingerly proffered buttocks as they quivered naked in the flickering candlelight of a Stygian Mayfair dungeon.
We asked a Labour spokesman for comment but he just said ‘My eyes! My beautiful eyes!’ and continued retching into his bucket.
*Max Mosley is now in charge of the nation’s press, so we are writing this from prison to save time.
Following overwhelmingly negative reviews for the new Fifty Shades Darker release, desperate producers have turned to guaranteed box office winner Jeremy Corbyn to save the next movie in the franchise.
‘No-one does ineffectual whipping better than Jeremy,’ said one Hollywood producer this morning, ‘he’s even worse at whipping than Jamie Dornan, which is saying something.’
Risibly ineffectual whipping is at the core of the Fifty Shades success story, so next year the world will be treated to the sight of the Labour leader stripped to the waist, oiled-up and pleading pathetically with MPs to vote the way they’re supposed to. With something erotic stuck up his bottom, presumably.
Labour has been accused of ‘smokescreen tactics’ over the party’s stance on article 50, the bill that triggers the process to leave the EU.
‘It’s completely unfair,’ whined one Tory MP last night, ‘nobody is talking about the utter shambles of Labour’s position; the press should be all over Jeremy Corbyn, but instead it’s all ‘Ooh! Look at the pretty names!’ and stuff.’
All of the MPs rebelling against Mr Corbyn’s order to vote for article 50 are possessed of extraordinarily exotic and beautiful names; among the most breathtakingly distracting names in the history of parliamentary democracy, in fact.
Shadow education secretary Tulip Siddiq came out against Mr Corbyn yesterday, to be followed today by Thangam Debbonaire and Daniel Zeichner (whose middle name is Florian. Probably).
For a time it was rumoured that Jeff Smith had also joined the rebels, but this has been strongly denied by the party. Clive Lewis is also keeping his head down.
Zaphod Beeblebrox, MP for Harlow West, is expected to state his opposition to article 50 later today, as is deputy chief whip Hotblack Desiato.
They will be joined by D’Brickashaw Ferguson who, inconveniently, is an offensive lineman for the New York Jets, but has been temporarily drafted in by Mr Corbyn’s office anyway. For his unparalleled expertise in European trade law, or something.
Labour party headquarters, Cloud Cuckoo Land: Jeremy Corbyn has told the BBC he would like to see a cap put on the amount people can earn.
The killjoy Labour party leader asked ‘Why would someone need to earn more than £50m a year?’ and described footballers’ salaries as ‘ridiculous’.
He then went on to reveal that, in addition to salaries, a Labour government would ‘ration the amount of fun people can have’ in any given 24-hour period and would limit the number of sexual encounters a senior manager could enjoy to ‘a swift bunk-up on a Sunday morning plus a sly quickie on bank holidays’. Shop floor workers would have the same government-sanctioned nookie entitlement as their bosses, only they’d have to do it with slightly uglier wives.
Labour MPs have responded to their leader’s latest initiative by jumping off bridges and slamming their own heads repeatedly in car doors.
Dalston, here, just outside the office: The failure of broadband and phone networks in the Dalston area yesterday lead to the near collapse of Post Office services as thousands of teenagers had to resort to the Royal Mail in order to send photographs of their genitals to one another.
‘It was worse than Christmas,’ said one postal worker too traumatised to be named, ‘we was knee deep at the depot. Couldn’t hardly move for muff by lunchtime.’
Several Tory MPs were also affected by the technical problems, with one senior cabinet member reduced to hand-delivering pictures of his endowment to tabloid journalists masquerading as nubile party activists.
After two days of dire warnings and calamitous think-tank reports, sources within the shadow cabinet have confirmed today that not even Jeremy Corbyn will be voting Labour at the next election.
Following assurances by Unite union chief Len McCluskey that the Labour leader will be put against a wall and shot ‘unless polls improve pronto, Comrade’, the Fabian Society has also bailed-out on Mr Corbyn by claiming that only an electoral pact with the Monster Raving Loony Party, Ukip and the Khmer Rouge will rescue the party from electoral oblivion.
Scores of ethnically diverse social workers in the London borough of Hackney have also been spotted wearing blue rosettes and Theresa May-inspired leather trousers, another sign, according to Westminster pundits, that Labour may actually poll fewer than zero votes in the 2020 general election if Mr Corbyn remains in office.
It is reported that, in a desperate move to shore-up electoral support, Mr Corbyn and French president François Hollande have agreed to vote for each other in forthcoming elections. They reckon one vote each is better than nothing – two if they bribe Diane Abbott with buns.