Cuts to 252 Tory MPs was only austerity Britain needed

Ousting 252 Conservative MPs from their positions was the only economic cut Britain needed to make.

Productivity is up immediately due to layabout Rees-Moggs now being required to 'work' from home. And without Thick Lizzy tapping off from the collective whiskey jar for herself, there are suddenly pretty pennies for every Jenny.

'Funding four Grant Shapps was a major drain to the UK economy,' said Professor Lisa Day from the Institute of Economic Monogamy. 'It seems like such an obvious cut to make now. And parliamentary tractor porn costs are right down. The only sector where I'm still hesitant to be optimistic is the Matt Hancock pub landlord industry. I don't know how it's going to survive without VIP lane assistance from the taxpayer.'

'To boost growth, I would recommend a further reduction of Sunaks. And to properly fund the NHS? A good seeing to of sloppy, wet Hunts.'

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Rees-Mogg regrets letting the servants vote

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The Island of Doctor Farage

Dearest Reader,

Behold the examinations made when I came upon a shore in the North Sea and found myself on the atrocious isle of Doctor Farage.

At a natural harbour, the Doctor greeted me with a warm handshake, borrowed £10 for a taxi inland and pocketed the pack when offered a cigarette.

On route to his laboratory, Farage explained had had received stewardship of the isle from a benefactor after a long period working overseas and found himself the custodian of a vast array of animal/human hybrids as well as a permanent seat on Question Time.

As we drove, I observed these poor demented creatures. Goose stepping Scots with black fur and pea brains. A large obnoxious Gallocat licking its taint in the sun. There were unions of swine and men, cat women and Quentin Blake illustrations, that I later realised was Jacob Rees Mogg. Pastafarianism was given form in half pasta, half meatball walking beasts. A tiny FishiRishi swam listlessly around in an ever decreasing puddle, perhaps sensing its imminent demise.

The Doctor offered me one of my own cigarettes and pointed out his prized BraverBird that squawked and gestured east towards Africa. We then arrived at the nearest Wetherspoons and a received an applause of hand, hoof and flipper on entry.

Flee! I tell you as I write these words, flee less he have pint of bitter with you all!

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