It is a dark and thundery night. Super-storm Abigail rages outside the HQ of the Labour dissidents in Rochdale. In a basement hall, in dim candlelight stand 200 lapsed social democrats, all dressed in black robes, all chanting ominously as their champion Simon Danczuk takes to the pulpit to address them. A disgruntled David Blunkett shrieks – “All praise to the Danczuk!” Silence descends and Danczuk begins:
“Brothers, I stand before you all with a knowledge that no man should bear. The time has come brothers, the rapture is upon us. It should have been obvious to us all. We should have noticed the writing on the wall, the shuddering of the Earth at the mention of his name, the icy chill that leeches up your leg when you witness his evil side-glance, the shrieks of Harriet Harman and Polly Toynbee; Jeremy Corbyn is the Antichrist. He is the child of Satan herself, the incarnation of pure evil, and a complete and utter bastard.”
There is a muffled chanting of “Danczuk! Danczuk!” and a stamping of feet and staffs.
“He is 2,000 years old. In that time he has wrought plague and destruction across the world. He was responsible for Spartacus, the Renaissance, the English Civil War, the French Revolution, Lenin, Trotsky, Stalin and so many other grievous affronts to the natural law of Christian History that it would make your blood curdle. He had sexual relations with Charles Darwin, and invented Climate Change. He possessed the spirit of Marx so the Khmer Rouge would happen (incidentally, he also was Enver Hoxha). He wants to abolish the army. He hates the war dead. He eats children. And, he’s a misogynist – the cunt.”
Suzanne Moore, so pent up with excitement exclaims, “Kill all brocialists! Kill them now! Kill! Kill! Kill!”
“In an astonishing revelation I can announce that Mr. Corbyn was born of the Whore of Babylon herself – Barbara Castle – in 33AD, and after suckling on the dangling teat of Benn rose up from the Red Sea to deceive us all and lead Britainkind to ruin. In a demonstration of proof – and thanks for this Alastair – I can make public that last week, in his non-bow to the great Cenotaph of Oblivion, a Sun photographer captured a close-up of his head; and yes the Number of the Beast – 666 – was there for all to see. Why are we surprised that he did not bow at our beloved altar of necrosis? Why are we surprised that he does bend on knee and kiss the clitoris of our great and virile Queen? Do not be fooled by his assumed humility oh brothers, for this is one who believes he is worthy to stand on his own against the market forces of heaven! What hubris! What insolent vulgarity! He has merely been biding his time, waiting for us all to slip into a false sense of national security and then he will pounce – nationalizing reality itself.
He will do away with our dominion over nature – forcing us to make concessions to creation itself. This is heretical paganism. He wishes to invest in renewables – desecrating our God given right to take rock from earth and burn it – an affront to the teachings of St Margaret. This insane and devious Beelzebub thinks that humankind can be saved! Do not be fooled! We know the final denunciation is near! There will be no salvation for those who follow the path of hope. The followers of Corbyn will be cast into the lake of fire and sent to Hull. Only the chaste hopeless shall enter the Kingdom of Heaven.”
Delirious cheers and whoops ring out across the cavernous hall.
“But then who will save us from this monstrous fate? What being on Earth is there to meet the challenge of history and crush this abhorrent foe into the dirt? We all know the answer to this. For no human man could defeat the wrath of Corbyn, no mere mortal. But there is one who has led us in victorious battle before, one who is blessed with a sacred insight, one who has had the Hand of History upon his backside many a time – Anthony Charles Lynton Blair.”
“Tony! Tony! Tony! Tony!” The crowd starts this low chant as the figure of Blair descends from the darkness above. His eyes are glowing red and a strange painted on smile is stretched across his wizened face. “Tony! Tony! Tony! Tony!” Danczuk continues emboldened:
“We must be strong, brothers. We must patiently prepare for the final battle on the Megiddo plain where the Friends of Palestine will be smitten once and for all. Remember your pledge to Tony brothers: “Till death do us part.” When the final battle comes there will be a gnawing and a gnashing of teeth and the vile scourge of Corbynism will be cleansed from the face of the Earth. Hallelujah.”
Blair descends to the ground arms raised as Christ to the masses and the 200 Blairites go wild shrieking, “Danczuk for Leader! Blair for Pope! Eradicate the Future! Eradicate hope!” They proceed to have an obscene orgy where Danczuk – still at the pulpit – engages in sexual relations with a pig, in order to prove himself suitable for leadership of the country. An earthquake rumbles across the North-west, the Labour Party is saved.