viewing public began
to weep and bury their faces into their mothers’ laps.
Dayglo
Hilyte opened his mouth, spoke words, but said nothing. The zany hastened to
adjust the sound control.
Dayglo
made himself heard. ‘… in a heated exchange during Prime Minister’s
question time today, the leader of the opposition, Pasha Ali Ben Jumada
described the Government’s devolution policy as ill-conceived and indefensible.
The granting of home rule, not only to Scotland and Wales but also The Isle of
Wight, each separate county, each borough, city, town and village, each street,
shop and individual home, was, he said, a move taken to confuse the general
public and distract them from noticing that the Government had now lost all
control and was utterly incapable of maintaining any rule whatsoever over
anything.
‘The
Prime Minister responded to this allegation by stating that he had pledged
himself to the policy of home rule. That home rule should exist in every home,
especially his own, and that the leader of the opposition, Pasha Ali Ben
Jumble Sale, was an unscrupulous mischief-maker with the libido of a March
hare.
‘The
leader of the opposition, Pasha Ali Ben Jumbo Jet responded by describing the
Prime Minister as a pot-walloping parvenu and drew the analogy that, as water
always found its own level, so too did scum, which inevitably rose to the very
top.
‘At
this point swords were drawn on both sides of the House and the speaker cried
out for order. The member for Brentford North elicited much laughter by calling
back that “his was a pint of Large please”. The speaker, through tears of
laughter, demanded that the leader of the opposition, Pasha Ali Ben Jump Suit,
apologize at once to the Prime Minister. Pasha Ali Ben Jock Strap declined to
do so and said that, for the record, if it wasn’t for the vacuum in the Prime
Minister’s head, his bowels would fall out of his bottom. And that if the Prime
Minister was a quarter of the man the Prime Minister’s wife knew the leader of
the opposition to be in bed, he would step outside and settle the matter with
his sleeves rolled up. Highlights from the fight will be brought to you during
our evening broadcast.
‘Science
news now and Greenwich Observatory has confirmed the findings of the Royal
Astronomer Sir Patrick Moore, that the earth is no longer revolving about the
sun, nor spinning on its axis. Sir Patrick described the planet as being in
stasis, with the sun now orbiting it once every twenty-four hours. He also
endorsed the statement recently made by the Archbishopess of Canterbury, that
the sun was not a great big ball of fire, because, if it was, then where was
all the smoke? The Archbishopess’s pronouncement that the sun was, in fact, a
very large lens, which focused the radiance of heaven onto the earth, was, Sir
Patrick said, probably not far off the mark.
‘And
now the weather.’ A little hatch opened in the side of the travelling TV and
Dayglo Hilyte stuck his hand out. ‘Dry,’ said he. ‘And that is the end of the
news.’
The
crowd in the town square clapped enthusiastically, then dissolved into its
component parts and drifted away.
Dayglo
Hilyte climbed through a doorway to the rear of the travelling TV, stretched,
cursed and then set to examining the contents of the contributions sack.
‘Mostly
parsnips again, I’m afraid,’ said his zany. ‘Parsnips, bloody parsnips.’ The
news teller made and raised fists. ‘Back in the days of the station, it would
have been account lunches at Soho Soho. Pigging it out on Italian designer
dishes. A starter of sun-dried tomatoes and focaccia, with lashings of fresh
basil and virgin olive oil. Then—’
‘Spare
me,’ said the zany. ‘It is parsnips again today, and that’s all there is to it.
Had you not elected that we eat the ox, we would not be trapped in this godless
hole, living on naught but parsnips.’
‘I
cannot survive upon a diet of vegetables,’ whinged the news teller.
to weep and bury their faces into their mothers’ laps.
Dayglo
Hilyte opened his mouth, spoke words, but said nothing. The zany hastened to
adjust the sound control.
Dayglo
made himself heard. ‘… in a heated exchange during Prime Minister’s
question time today, the leader of the opposition, Pasha Ali Ben Jumada
described the Government’s devolution policy as ill-conceived and indefensible.
The granting of home rule, not only to Scotland and Wales but also The Isle of
Wight, each separate county, each borough, city, town and village, each street,
shop and individual home, was, he said, a move taken to confuse the general
public and distract them from noticing that the Government had now lost all
control and was utterly incapable of maintaining any rule whatsoever over
anything.
‘The
Prime Minister responded to this allegation by stating that he had pledged
himself to the policy of home rule. That home rule should exist in every home,
especially his own, and that the leader of the opposition, Pasha Ali Ben
Jumble Sale, was an unscrupulous mischief-maker with the libido of a March
hare.
‘The
leader of the opposition, Pasha Ali Ben Jumbo Jet responded by describing the
Prime Minister as a pot-walloping parvenu and drew the analogy that, as water
always found its own level, so too did scum, which inevitably rose to the very
top.
‘At
this point swords were drawn on both sides of the House and the speaker cried
out for order. The member for Brentford North elicited much laughter by calling
back that “his was a pint of Large please”. The speaker, through tears of
laughter, demanded that the leader of the opposition, Pasha Ali Ben Jump Suit,
apologize at once to the Prime Minister. Pasha Ali Ben Jock Strap declined to
do so and said that, for the record, if it wasn’t for the vacuum in the Prime
Minister’s head, his bowels would fall out of his bottom. And that if the Prime
Minister was a quarter of the man the Prime Minister’s wife knew the leader of
the opposition to be in bed, he would step outside and settle the matter with
his sleeves rolled up. Highlights from the fight will be brought to you during
our evening broadcast.
‘Science
news now and Greenwich Observatory has confirmed the findings of the Royal
Astronomer Sir Patrick Moore, that the earth is no longer revolving about the
sun, nor spinning on its axis. Sir Patrick described the planet as being in
stasis, with the sun now orbiting it once every twenty-four hours. He also
endorsed the statement recently made by the Archbishopess of Canterbury, that
the sun was not a great big ball of fire, because, if it was, then where was
all the smoke? The Archbishopess’s pronouncement that the sun was, in fact, a
very large lens, which focused the radiance of heaven onto the earth, was, Sir
Patrick said, probably not far off the mark.
‘And
now the weather.’ A little hatch opened in the side of the travelling TV and
Dayglo Hilyte stuck his hand out. ‘Dry,’ said he. ‘And that is the end of the
news.’
The
crowd in the town square clapped enthusiastically, then dissolved into its
component parts and drifted away.
Dayglo
Hilyte climbed through a doorway to the rear of the travelling TV, stretched,
cursed and then set to examining the contents of the contributions sack.
‘Mostly
parsnips again, I’m afraid,’ said his zany. ‘Parsnips, bloody parsnips.’ The
news teller made and raised fists. ‘Back in the days of the station, it would
have been account lunches at Soho Soho. Pigging it out on Italian designer
dishes. A starter of sun-dried tomatoes and focaccia, with lashings of fresh
basil and virgin olive oil. Then—’
‘Spare
me,’ said the zany. ‘It is parsnips again today, and that’s all there is to it.
Had you not elected that we eat the ox, we would not be trapped in this godless
hole, living on naught but parsnips.’
‘I
cannot survive upon a diet of vegetables,’ whinged the news teller.
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