By Connor Kelly
WHAT HAPPENS IN THE PRIVY
First up this week is the unending saga of Jeremy Ilyich Corbyn and his relentless ‘snubs’. (I don’t know what a snub is – but apparently he does it, a lot.) This time he “snubbed the queen” by not turning up to a little soiree she was having where he was supposed to kneel before her, kiss her toe ring, and mutter in gibberish. This was not some sort of BDSM fetish party; this was of course the meeting of the ‘Privy Council.’ The Privy Council is a medieval institution made up of some 500 members including unelected and indolent bishops and Lords. Nobody has any idea what they get up to because they’re all sworn to secrecy. They could be drinking children’s blood out of goat’s skulls for all we know – what happens in the privy stays in the privy. To enter the privy, you must swear to defend Lizzy against “all foreign princes, persons, prelates, states or potentates.” Presumably foreign princes include the several hundred in the murderous house of Saud – because we don’t like them at all, do we? And the foreign prelates must include people like the Dali Lama – known world-wide for his devious plots to poison Lizzy’s tea with aphorisms. But then, according to those in the know, not attending the Privy and swearing the oath means you’re not a “serious politician.” Because to be taken seriously in British politics you have to do things like kiss old woman’s rings, and fuck dead pig’s heads.
I DID NOT HAVE SEXUAL RELATIONS WITH THAT PROPERTY
First Prince of Northern Ireland and leader of the Draconian Underwear Party (DUP) Peter Robinson found himself in hot water this week after details of his dirty dealings with NAMA were leaked on a blog. Appearing before Stormont’s finance committee, Robbo denied benefiting from the sale of NAMA property in Northern Ireland worth £1.24bn saying he, “neither received, expected to receive, sought, nor was I offered a single penny.” We believe you Peter, we really do. I mean, a fine upstanding citizen like yourself wouldn’t be involved in dodgy property deals like that! Dodgy property deals like that one you weren’t involved with in 2009, where you didn’t sell part of your garden for £460,000. No, you’re a good Christian man with a strong moral conscience.
For a political settlement that supposedly exists on a “knife edge,” top N.I. politicians seem to be able to weather any kind of shit-storm. Take the leaders of the two main parties – Gerry Adams and Peter Robinson. It has been alleged that Adams covered up the child abuse perpetrated by his brother, that he personally covered up rape allegations within the IRA, and that he was involved with the disappearance and murder of Jean McConville. Resign? Never! Sacked? You gotta be kidding. You see, it was all lies.
Peter Robinson, is alleged to have had his fingers in many a property pie. As well as this, his wife had the most spectacularly scandalous affair with a teenager (and more importantly, was siphoning off public money to said teenager). He has hatefully insulted the entire LGBT and Muslim populations of Northern Ireland and once led a totally bizarre ‘invasion’ of Clontibret in County Monaghan. But he’s done nothing wrong, of course, nor is he stark raving mad – you see, it was all lies. Politics in Northern Ireland isn’t just poisonous, it is insane. Watching Stormont live is like having a terrifyingly bad mushroom trip where you’re surrounded by evil clown people with guns – you end up weeping in a corner in a pool of your own vomit praying for the end. The ‘Peace Process’ will continue on this endless militarised merry-go-round for as long as we let it. It isn’t even entertaining anymore – it’s sick.
GIANT ALIEN MEGASTRUCTURES
To the jubilation of the DUP, Jupiter’s “Great Red Spot” has suddenly turned orange in a strange astronomical occurrence that Nelson McCausland claims heralds the beginning of “The Rupture.” Speaking to the magazine Gomorrah he said, “Here yee brethren! Watch as the God-fearin-folk o’ Norn Iron ascend to the orange spot along their tradishnal root! Hallelujah!”
Fortunately, elsewhere in the galaxy, the possibility of actually existing intelligent life seems more likely. Circling around the aptly named star KIC8462852, there is a mass of large objects. They have been spotted by the Kepler telescope which has been tasked to look for exoplanets. I’m not sure how it can see so far away, but its something to do with things called, “spectroscopy” and “dynamical evolution and stability” and other forms of black magic that yee wudny find in Norn Iron.
Some scientists believe that these objects may be some sort of orbiting crafts – perhaps to catch solar energy – created by highly advanced intelligent extra-terrestrials. SETI (the Search for Extra-terrestrial Intelligence) plans to point a radio telescope that way to see if the might pick up some good vibes from KIC8462852. How sad they will be when they find, beamed down in an encrypted binary code – instead of the plans for the death star – the unmistakeable sound of flutes and drums and the droning noise of “The Sash” sung in extra-terrestrial tongues. Nelson McCausland will be dancing in the streets claiming Ulster Protestants descend from the aliens. Peter Robinson will shriek from the rooftops about the dawning of the Aquarian age, and Ian Paisley will rise up from his pit to be seated at the right hand of the Fuhrer. The future will be bright, the future will be orange.