THE prime minister, standing at a podium in Downing Street with his trousers around his ankles and his genitalia fully visible, has denied he has been humiliated.
Starmer, who was stating why there would be no U-turn on benefits cuts before rebel MPs sneaked out, grabbed his waistband and pulled his trousers and underwear down, explaining this was the workings of a healthy democracy.
He continued: “As the wind whistles past my exposed anus, I repeat: I am not in the least humiliated. In fact, I am into this.
“Otherwise why would I have performed three U-turns in a month? Only because they’re such an excellent way of governing, really taking the strength of everyone’s views and my shirt not being long enough to cover my penis into account.
“I am now glad that the chronically disabled will have more money. My view of them as ‘a bunch of f**king millennial freeloaders faking anxiety for free cash’ is as firmly consigned to the past as not knowing how your prime minister’s ballsack hangs. Low, as you can see.
“You should be applauding this, not just the pantsing moment. I have worked with my party for an outcome that satisfies everyone. I could not be more thrilled.”
Starmer then took questions, the first of which was from ITV political editor Robert Peston asking him if he was so happy then why wasn’t his dick hard.
Glastonbury is a blueprint for a better society without my parents. By Tom Logan
MY first time at Glastonbury has opened my eyes. I believe it offers a blueprint for a society that is more equal, free of prejudice, and your parents aren’t hassling you all the time.
It’s no exaggeration to say Glastonbury is the ultimate utopia, and I don’t see why you couldn’t scale it up so that everywhere in Britain is like this. We’d all live in eco-yurts and the economy would be based on sustainable industries like bead shops, meditation workshops and shamanic drum-making.
You wouldn’t have to cook because all the food would come from stalls and everyone could spend their time being creative. I gave it loads of thought last night when I was smoking weed and listening to dub reggae, and it seemed pretty doable to me.
But there is one thing standing in the way of this perfect society: my parents.
Not them personally, there’s only two of them, but people like them, trapped in a petty bourgeois suburban mindset where all they care about is paying the mortgage and trying to turn you into a mindless cog in the capitalist machine by suggesting you get a summer job at Homebase.
They don’t get the Glastonbury ethos at all. When my dad was dropping me off at the station he said: ‘Four nights of sleeping in a field for the privilege of seeing Rod bloody Stewart? Better you than me!’
This sort of closed-minded attitude would have no place in our brave new world, so I think it would be best to exclude my parents. I’m not suggesting doing anything terrible to them, just some sort of internment camp.
Then we can get on with building a society based on values like tolerance, anti-racism and veganism which the British public hold so dear. All I have to do now is work out what we’d do for money.
I’d love to talk more about my vision of a better future totally unlike anything that has gone before, but I’ve got to see Supergrass.
