We are all in this together – but some more so than others.
Here at How Inappropriate we like nothing more than a legendary bit of oration. Few modern speakers come close to the man we present to you today. As a Parliamentarian he is up there with Winston Churchill and Aneurin Bevan; ladies and gentlemen we give you the Shadow Chancellor - George Osborne at the Autumn 2009 Conservative Party Conference.
You talkin' to me?
"Friends, I come to you in a time of crisis. The referee's common-in-law wife has blown the final whistle on the game that has been New Labour economic policy, the last upper-lip pansy has been spatchcocked and we are well into extra-fisting time. I tell you now, I will put a stop to pensions for civil servants. In an economy where bankers go for a whole year without a £1m bonus, hedge fund managers have to sell their third Tuscan holiday home and Tory peers are forced to tell us whether they actually pay tax or not, it is madness to expect those earning less than £18,000 a year not to suffer horribly. Make no mistake, we are all in this together, and the public sector cannot be expected to be immune to the hardships faced by my Lithuanian housemaid Natasha who I was forced to sack without severance pay or notice just the other day.
As I asked my wife to do my laundry my only thought was of those council employees comfortable and secure in the knowledge that streets will always need sweeping - well not under a Conservative government! There is nothing more important than cutting the grotesque deficit that this Labour government leaves us with. It lies there quivering like flabby buttocks of loneliness and cannot be ignored any longer! If swingeing cuts to public sector services are what it takes to drag this country out of the chasm of debt Gordon Brown has left us with then rest assured, I will make those cuts.
Natasha - out on her ear.
And if those cuts turn out to be massively unpopular come election time, if the thought of frontline public services being slashed makes the voter think twice about voting Conservative, if it starts to look like those cuts will be as popular as the poll tax, then I tell you this: we won't do it! So for those waiting with baited breath for that favourite media catchphrase, "the u-turn", I have only one thing to say - you turn if you want to, and if the focus groups suggest you're headed in the right direction I'm right behind you like Speedy Gonzales on a bullet train.
My friends, we face difficult times. There are those who would tell you that a Conservative government will balance the budget on the backs of the poorest. Well I tell you this: it worked in the 80s, so why the hell not?"
Spatchcock ready for a grilling over chorister claims
Spatchcock: thinking about David's endz.
Hello again listeners, Ernest T Spatchcock servicing you once more, and it is a very uncomfortable one isn't it? As you may be aware, St Brenda's - an oasis of spiritual calm in this flesh-obsessed modern world of ours - has been dragged into the horrendous row which has embroiled the Catholic Church of late. I'm not talking about the Vatican's official acceptance last week that Pious VII's encyclical of 1812 - in which he stated that the world was an asymmetrical rhomboid - was wrong. No, I'm afraid I'm talking about our castrato chorister, David. It all started when I gave one of my regular morning homilies on Empire FM's Rude Thought For the Day.
I recalled the uplifting words of St Paul's Letter to the Philippians, which as regular listeners I know you're all very familiar with. Well, to cut to the end, word got round that I was just as familiar with David. In fact, talking of cutting to the end, that was very much the rude thought for the day which I was reflecting upon: the perfectly natural and non-sexy act of circumcision. But you know how the C of E faithful like to chunter on, and onwardly chunter they veritably did. By tea-time, I had performed an act of unspeakable depravity upon David's boyhood in the vestry after Evensong. By the next morning, I had paid him £10 not to report this to his mother and by the end of last week, I had colluded with my Bishop, The Unbelievably Reverend Duncan Teabags, to cover up the act for the next ten years. What a monster I have become, and it only takes a congregation of 19 to commit me to the eternal flames of justice!
Naturally I wanted to clear this unpleasant mess up, which is definitely not what I said to David, despite what a few wags were muttering under their breath during last Sunday's sermon. So I asked the delightful, uncommonly handsome boys at How Inappropriate if I might post an apology for the confusion on these illustrious pages. The mistake was actually that of an errant production trainee in the editing suite, who cut off my pre-recorded piece a little hastily. When listeners heard me declare that "I would like a nice piece of David", what they should have heard me say is "I would like a nice piece of David's mother, the deliciously skanky milf". As you can see, nothing could be simpler than the truth, which is why I felt the need to set the record straight.
That was the worst thing I've ever heard!
So I wanted to say that I am deeply sorry that I have been mistaken for a Catholic, who are obviously afforded the divine right to sodomise children and pay for their silence, and whose Pope is responsible for issuing an order that all child abuse claims had to be investigated in secret and remain confidential for at least a decade. Some more unforgiving critics have said that Benedict XVI bears a striking resemblance to a squashed Statler from The Muppets channelling Emperor Palpatine from Star Wars, but as far as I'm concerned, he's just a loveable Nazi. Either way, horrific paedophilia may be the prerogative of Catholic priests everywhere, but I need to assure my parish that my pecadillos are strictly limited to BBWs, golden showers, DP, shaved Asians and cling-film bondage. And that's the slightly boring truth, listeners.
May you all have a blessed Feast of Bellends.
Born and raised in Fingeringhoe, him – Useless Directions Man, Part 2
Yes, everyone's favourite directions-provider is back [Ed: If you weren't aware of his staggering contribution to the knowledge economy, check out the first instalment here]. This time, he's directing another unwitting out-of-towner to the church hall. How hard can that be?
Landmarks like that can be very deceptive ...
The Bisto Roast Part 1
Word up, cunts. Baxter "Bisto" Bistock here, and let's make it snappy. The economy, eh? What's that all about? Apparently, the official national debt is set to pass the trillion mark this month. Blimey! Why don't we just borrow another trillion and invest it in the space programme, so we can stick all that debt in a space rocket, and send it off to MARS, then we can all skip around the planet like HAPPY LITTLE TROLLS. No we can't fucking do that you complete moron, you know absolutely jack about the mother-rimming economy, and neither does anyone else - including, it seems, the 'economics' correspondent on my show, The Bisto Roast, Frank O'Filler. The clueless Irish cunt.
FOR THE LAST MINGE-SLAPPING TIME, FRANK, TELL ME WHAT QUANTITIVE EASING MEANS FOR THE CITY
Tarquin Vandertwatt’s department devastated by cuts at BBC
Tarquin: 'incampotent'
Hi, Tarquin here again, and, y'know I've got to tell you, it's been a pretty crazy week. Not very cool stuff has happened, If I'm going to be honest, and as the head of Future Imaginary Diametric Digital Lifestyle Innovation Newness Group (F.I.D.D.L.I.N.G), I'm always honest with the licence-fee paying public. In fact, I'm incandescent with impotent rage (I call it 'incampotent'). You've all read the stories about the cuts being made at the B.B.C. The way I see it, if we need to rationalise our content platforms to remain competitive in a multi-mega-media age of future technology, then fine: we can strip out or down-size or outsource as much as we need when it comes to "public service" assets such as creative programming departments, new music radio stations and so-called "regional issues-based journalism". But man: when they threaten to take the axe to the B.B.C's most valuable future audience delivery unit, well that really bakes my Tilapia.
So my boss and so-called "pal" Mark Thompson crashed our latest F.I.D.D.L.I.N.G. Innovative Newness session held at the Burj Al Arab Hotel, Dubai (it's perfect for rewarding teams for doing their jobs - check it out!) on Tuesday with the horrific news. "Tarq", he says - as I'm about to announce my plan to restructure the whole department so that everyone has the same amount of syllables in their title - "Tarq, we've cut back virtually every last scintilla of original production at the Beeb. I hate to do this kid, I really do, but you've got to make some hard decisions in your own back yard. You gotta either cut your secretarial budget or the car hire: you decide. If you can't take the hit, we're going to have to look at your own remuneration package and expenses." And out he went for an executive re-charge session, swimming with some imported dolphins, stroking his achingly-fashionable three-day old beard and slapping his big, concerned forehead.
Well, like I say, it's been a week of tough choices. However, to maintain content quality across our remaining channel, that choice had to be made. Yeah, she's got impressive headlights, awesome curves, and purrs beautifully when you're changing lanes - but my Personal Delivery Assistant, Lucy, is clearly a luxury in our frugal times that I can't keep spending the bucks on. Let me make it very clear: I'm worth every penny of my £600, 000 pa salary (plus automatic future audience bonus), and I'm not exactly going to meet the movers and shakers in Digital Futurism by holding my audience-focused thinking sessions in Shepherd's Bush - can you get visibility on that?! Besides - the Bellagio, Las Vegas, has the loosest slots in town - which is, like, total value for your licence fee, so if you weigh up the transport options there, giving up the 24-hour personal luxury car and chauffeur hire doesn't make any sense.
Lucy: needs to be saved
Still, it's not like I wanna cut jobs from our essential new frontier services. I mean, if F.I.D.D.L.I.N.G. didn't exist, how on earth would we be able to imaginatively create cool new visioning platform options every month? But there is still time for the Great British Public to put a stop to this madness. There is already a "Save Lucy" facebook group that you can join, and literally six of the Senior FIDDLERS have, not to mention actual news broadcasters with real journalists on other channels out there who want to listen to what the people of Britain have to say on this issue, and speak truth to power. So come on guys! With your help, maybe I can keep my P.A., car, salary, bonus, and golden "how are you doing?" payments, and still have enough dough to bring back Walking With Mice in 3D. It may be a wild, crazy dream by someone dangerously unqualified to make assessments about the future of public service broadcasting in the 21st century, but that's my visionisation for the Beeb.
Rude Thought for the Day
Unq. Rev'd Ernest T Spatchcock in da mo'fo house
Hi-de-ho Jesus people, and it really is the Good News from Empire FM this week as we announce the joyous return of Ernest T Spatchock from the Bahamas, where he has been ministering to his tender (and we do mean under-age) flock of wayward souls. Today the Vicar of St Brendas has a homely homily for all you filthy perverts on the very real subject of marriage. Apparently it's a good thing.