Chicken Yoghurt: Oh, my aching sides

Oh, my aching sides

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

As if proof were needed that New Labour are a humourless bunch of smug fucks, I got some "comedy" pre-election spam from them today:

Today we are introducing a new feature to Labour.org.uk , the "Michael Howard Bandwagon Watch". We're inviting visitors to spot bandwagons Mr Howard or his candidates are boarding, nationally or locally. And you are also invited to send in your predictions as to what bandwagons Mr Howard may chase in the future.

Submit your predictions here:

http://labour.org.uk/bandwagon

Here are the current top ten favourites for his next bandwagon:

1. Howard pledges new "ATM bill" to deal with people who take too long getting money out of cashpoints.
2. Howard to ban hosepipe bans.
3. Howard to double limit on items allowed in "six and under" supermarket queues.
4. Howard says Premiership abuse of referees has grown under Labour, and promises a new "Graham Poll" bill.
5. Howard pledges to press Channel Four to move The Sopranos to 9pm.
6. Howard urges The West Wing to have a Republican President - preferably one who will meet him.
7. Howard to outlaw "push polling" - except by the Tories in this campaign.
8. Howard calls for royal wedding memorabilia profits to go to charity.
9. Howard pledges new bill to force pop stars to sing lyrics clearly.
10. Howard pledges streamlining of choice in coffee shops.

Make your own suggestion here:

http://labour.org.uk/bandwagon

Thank you,
The Labour Party

Who the hell wrote this for them? The scriptwriters from My Hero? Christ, it's like Oscar Wilde had never been born. If you're going to try to be funny then BRING THE FUCKING FUNNY. Don't waste my time with this sub-6th form rot. I'm going to have to have my toes surgically uncurled.

If you overheard two students having that kind of conversation in a pub you'd wince in the certain knowledge that come closing time some burly bastard is going to kick seven shades of white paint out of the annoying little pricks.

Alan Milburn, along with his campaign, has finally gone round the bloody pipe.

Picture him in the New Labour campaign office. Everybody else has gone out for lunch. Alan sits, glancing across the room at a computer. Somebody has left their email account open. Alan's been told to stay away from the computers of late - he just gets upset. But he's got a cracking idea. It's been swirling around his head for weeks. "Sod it," he thinks and moves over to the computer. From his jacket pocket he pulls a fistful of screwed-up scraps of paper - a bus ticket, a cappucino receipt, a 1997 pledge card, a picture of Gordon Brown that he cut out of a newspaper and drew a pair of devil's horns and a beard on, and more. On each of the pieces of paper, written in tiny handwriting, is a single sentence. Meticulously, with his tongue poked between his teeth, he types each sentences into the computer. "Howard pledges...", "Howard urges...". Alan's shoulders shake with silent laughter. His heart is hammering in his chest. "They're going to be so pleased," he thinks, hugging himself. Sweating heavily, he hits the "Send" key just as the rest of the team enter the office, back from lunch.

Time to deprive him of not just his job but his liberty as well.

If he was running a cake shop he'd be bust in a week.

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