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Hollywood screenwriters have pinpointed the problem with most of the people seeking asylum in the UK: their backstories are too complex for an audience raised on Eastenders.


'The Ukrainians have nailed it' said Chad, a script editor from California. 'A well-drawn if somewhat obvious villain, a humble-yet-plucky hero leading a ragtag band of underdogs against a mighty army. They should have made Zelensky single so he could fall in love with a librarian who has to become a freedom fighter – or a nurse? - but apart from that it’s a perfect script'.


Syrians have come under criticism for having a ‘complex and muddled’ backstory.


'Who’s the baddy? Who’s the goody? What’s the branding? These people have no idea how to launch a franchise. Their best chance is to do a kind of ‘Putin Origins’ storyline' said Chad. 'We could show him developing his weapons and tactics in Damascus – ooh, I know, we could show him actually on the road to Damascus! That would play great in the US of A, do you have the Bible here? Give Putin his own theme, similar to Darth Vader’s Imperial March, and make those Wagner guys dress like stormtroopers, pretty soon the Syrians would be getting housing and a welcome as well'.


Suella Braverman was asked for a statement, but she was busy designing a laser cannon for the white cliffs of Dover and posing for next week’s Daily Mail front page.



First published 29 Nov 2022



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A pail of water falling from some scaffolding drenched Suella Braverman as she searched an active construction site for illegal immigrants. Unbeknownst to the builders, the water had earlier been blessed, causing Braverman to dissolve into a puddle.


As she rapidly lost corporeal form, Braverman was heard to blame immigrants who do not share British values for her demise. Authorities say there were no other injuries, and foul play is not suspected. However, a man matching the description of Robert Jenrick was seen paying money to a passing priest and then running away laughing.


The site’s string of accident-free days came to an end at fourteen.


Image: Wix AI



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!


Image: Newsbiscuit

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