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"We've achieved the sum of sweet f*ck-all since we came into office," admitted a spokes-hieroglyph for the Labour government.


"But we have used the little that remains of Britain's diplomatic heft to ensure the return of a total w*nker called Abd al Fattah.


"This is a person who the Egyptians had kept locked up as a public service, who tweets hate speech against Jews and democracy.


"Strangely, the Prime Minister was actually proud to have secured his release.


"That's presumably because al Fattah will be living in Smethwick when he returns - or somewhere similar, a long way away from Downing Street.


"It's sort of sad," mused the spokes-scarab, "that the only power we have left in the world is persuading the Egyptians to hand over a total wanker they would have been only too pleased to part with."



Medics, homeopaths, alternative health practitioners and witches are concerned about the President's mental health.


One quack doctor told us, 'I monitor what the President says and does very closely, for my podcast. It is very clear that the flow of lies, untruths, half-truths and utter nonsense is changing. The volume of nonsense is diminishing. And markedly. He doesn't spout total guff with the same volume or frequency or enthusiasm as before. The contributions aren't as batshit crazy as they were.


'It seems clear that something is going on inside the Presidential bonce. As the direction of travel seems positive, veering back towards established knowledge, truths and behaviours, we are increasingly worried that Donald J Trump is going sane.


'Fortunately, in the USA, the treatment for sanity is exactly the same as the treatment for insanity, so there won't be any need to change Donald's meds.'



It’s the curse of every superhero’s life: fighting crime in secret is a full-time job. Peter Parker fell behind with his studies. Clark Kent faced the sack on a regular basis. Nigel Farage’s absences from Clacton and the House of Commons might cost him the next election. Lucky for him his job has zero penalties for goofing off.


We don’t know which crimes he’s preventing, or which damsels he’s rescuing from distress. We don’t even know what his costume looks like – presumably it’s a flag of some sort. Hammer and sickle, possibly.


What we do know is that Nigel isn’t where he’s supposed to be – which can only mean one thing. He’s fighting crime. Rescuing kittens from blazing rooftops. Fighting pitched battles with supervillains. If you need him, Nigel will be there*. Just project a silhouette of Mein Kampf into the night sky and The Incredible Sulk will be by your side.



*Offer not available in Clacton or other depressing places.



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