Oil spill chants

The toxic oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico has added a certain spice to the clash between England and the Yanks - but will it be reflected in the chants of the crowd? Some suggestions:

You're so slick it's unbelievable
The referee's a tanker
Who's the bastard covered in black?
Come and have a go if you think you know how to plug the damn leak
Are you Shell in disguise?
I'm forever blowing up oil rigs
Tony Hayward's going to get his fucking head kicked in
You're not making profits anymore
You don't know what you're doing
We all hate Leaks and Leaks and Leaks, we all fucking hate Leaks
BP's share price is Going down, going down, going down
We are BP, Obama doesn't like us, we don't care.

The crowd will then perform a Gulf Of Mexican wave goodbye to BP's future.

On Safari

Fabio Capello's first job, after trying to scarper to Inter Milan, was to welcome Michael Dawson to England's training camp. Dawson left England so quickly that many people mistook him for 'Arry Redknapp trying to avoid the taxman. We are told that boredom is a major problem for the players when they are not training; there is only one golf course in the area, an oversight which proves South Africa is yet to join the community of civilized nations. Fabio therefore decided to take the lads on a safari yesterday. Many of the players had only previously been this close to vicious, slow-moving, foul-breathed creatures during their encounters with Stoke City.

The safari was a great success with confirmed sightings including:

The Heskeyphant (Avoidus backofnet incessantum) - a huge, lumbering quadruped which, when aroused from its habitual torpor, is known to inflict terrible injuries on members of its own herd. Endangered species which nobody wants to save.

The Roonoceros (Scouser redcardi inevitabilis) - grunting, snorting, spitting, enraged beast which often charges at men wearing black and carrying a whistle. Usually monogamous but has been observed enjoying relations with older females in his territory.

The Hotspur Giraffe (Crouchensis ineleganti) - Immensely tall, stick-legged, gangly herbivore, known for its strange courtship dance. Has to be put down if it falls over.

There were even rumours of a Terrydactyl (Libido uncontrollabilis) on the riverbank, apparently trying to mate with a bit of stuff which used to be attached to a bridge. There was a potentially embarrassing moment when Jamie Carragher and Stevie Gerrard were surrounded by a pack of hyenas; apparently, the high-pitched yelps and excited squeaks emitted by the pair caused the hyenas to think they were members of a related species. Thankfully, Stevie G used his years of training in Merseyside nightclubs to good effect - he was filmed punching a hyena in the face a number of times before getting off scot free. The jaunt was declared over when Ashley Cole sneaked away with a couple of right wildebeest (Roxy and Shazza).

A tried and tested rule of World Cup campaigns is to get your excuses in early. David James started the ball rolling when he criticised the new football being used in the tournament as "terrible": James elaborated:"It's appalling, I actually managed to catch it the other day rather than abjectly spilling it into the back of the net. My reputation is in tatters". James's problem is compounded by the fact that Portsmouth were unable to afford a football last season and had to use a shuttlecock in training sessions.

INGERLAND, INGERLAND, INGERLAND...........

Beckham's Epistle

I was intrigued to hear that former England captain and stick insect lover David Beckham has written a two page letter in support of England's 2018 World Cup bid. I have managed to acquire a copy of this letter:

Beware the Clegg

Daily Hate:

Paedophile Nazi Clegg and TV's Kerry Katona tortured hard working, tax-paying British kittens in grotto of shame. Wife believed to be foreign.

The Fear:

Cocaine Cleggy smears Joanna Lumley's blood on Cenotaph before kicking maimed Afghan hero up the arse with his subsidy-loving Euro-boots.

Daily Express:

Welfare cheat Clegg urinates on Princess of Hearts grave while rubbing radioactive waste on grieving Prince William's bald patch

Heat Magazine:

Dirty love rat and illegal immigrant Clegg is having torrid affair with disgraced John Terry. Exclusive photos of loving couple holding hands while Terry attempts to clear corner against Bolton Wanderers.

The Daily Xenophobe:

Alcoholic homosexual Clegg uses photo of Churchill to wipe bottom and snorts cannabis off Union Jack while singing 'Deutschland uber Alles'. Vote Conservative.

I agree with Nick

ALASTAIR STEWART: Good evening and welcome to the most historic event in the history of the world. History is truly in the making tonight as ITV, for the first time in the history of mankind, shows a programme without the participation of Ant and Dec. Truly historic, I think you will agree. Let us begin.

CLEGG: Good evening.

BROWN: I agree with Nick, it is a good evening and I have ensured that 22.5% of evenings have got better under New Labour, an increase of.....

STEWART: Shut up. Mr Cameron.

CAMERON (looking into the distance): Good evening everybody. I met a black man the other day and I also wished him a good evening, although there won't be many good evenings when we go to war with China.

CLEGG: Look, they are both as bad as each other, these tired ways of wishing people 'good evening' have to stop. We can do greetings differently from the old, corrupt ways. As a pipe fitter in Hull said to me three weeks last Wednesday.....

BROWN: I think Nick agrees with me on that.

CAMERON: I think we can eliminate waste in our greetings to each other. We have already identified £67897.5 billion in savings simply by removing the word 'good', as well as by forcing civil servants to buy tea bags from Poundstretcher.

BROWN: We all know that Lord Ashcroft buys the airbrushed teabags for the Conservatives........er.......now what was the other joke Alastair Campbell told me to say?

STEWART: Just to let you know that the leaders of the unimportant parties that aren't English will have their own debate on.......er.......whenever. Your final statements please.

CAMERON: I can guarantee that a Conservative Government will not buy that extra dustbin lorry in Totnes and we will use the savings to fund the entire NHS......our brave troops.......Vote Conservative.

BROWN: My Mother and Father gave me the values that have guided me: hard work, responsibility, an aggressive, bullying manner, values that I'm sure Nick Clegg's parents would have agreed with.........our brave boys.......Vote Lib Dem....I mean, Labour.(runs headlong to the audience and maniacally starts shaking their hands)

CLEGG: I come from Sheffield......Our brave lads.......Vote hung parliament.

STEWART: Thank you for those historic comments that will undoubtedly change the course of history. The next eight hour debate will concentrate on regional development agencies. From somewhere up North, goodbye!

Citizen Cameron

Tuesday saw the launch of the Conservative Party manifesto, although it was obviously overshadowed by Plaid Cymru's manifesto launch on the same day. Heads will assuredly roll for that oversight. It took place at Battersea Power Station (send the invoice to Lord Ashcroft, A Big House, Belize) and we were treated to endless shots of the enormous, derelict, smoke-ravaged ruin before the cameras moved away from Ken Clarke and focussed on the building. Famously, Pink Floyd's 1977 album, 'Animals', showed a pig floating between two of its chimneys but, disappointingly, the Conservatives failed to take up my idea of floating an enormous inflatable Eric Pickles above the site. Loud music was pumped at the assembled throng, including David Bowie's 'Changes'; I think 'Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars' would have been more appropriate.

The young Tory activists were clad in sky-blue T-shirts, making it look as though a busload of Man City fans had rolled up at the wrong fixture; Theresa May went one step further and wore what appeared to be a sky-blue space suit, sadly without the helmet. The manifesto bears the following legend on the cover: 'Invitation to Join the Government of Britain'. Now, I know the Shadow Cabinet is not up to much but I didn't realise Dave was going to use the manifesto to advertise their jobs.

The launch was interminable; even Caroline Spelman (who's she?) was allowed to waffle about something for 10 minutes. Sadly, the Shadow Homophobic Secretary, Chris Grayling, was kept well away from the microphone, so we were spared his views on whether gays should be allowed in disused power stations. "POWER TO THE PEOPLE!", bellowed 'Wolfie' Cameron (or should that be 'Puppy'?), fist raised, as he nicked Citizen Smith's rallying cry from the '70's sitcom: "If you elect us on 6 May, you will be in power on 7 May". We will all be invited to form our own schools, police forces, hospitals, pubs, armed forces, nuclear deterrents, etc. while the Government looks after.......er...... what exactly?

Labour manifesto

It's manifesto time and Labour was first off with a launch event at a new hospital in Brum. As is de rigueur for political events these days, the main players were surrounded by a flock of adoring activists, all young, all well presented, some appearing to sport crazed Mephedrone-fuelled grins. Unfortunately, because of the way it was filmed, it appeared as though Brown and the Cabinet were actually being chased into the hospital by these alarming characters rather than leading them onwards.

The event was kicked off by Elly Gellard, a rising young Labour starlet, who blogs under the nom de plume, The Stilettoed Socialist, proving that Lord Mandelson is not the only Labour figure to favour that type of footwear. The presence of La Gellard raised a disturbing security question: how on earth did a socialist manage to infiltrate a New Labour event? Heads will assuredly roll. The error was compounded when it was later revealed that the cheeky minx had previously written that Brown should resign for the good of the party, a level of disloyalty which only the Cabinet could match. Her post apparently read: 'Omigod, like, Brown has, like, so got to resign? Like, omigod, I would, like, so much prefer Lady Ga Ga'(Harriet Harman's affectionate nickname in Labour circles).

Brown then bounded on to the stage and launched into an oration replete with repetitious platitudes. If you removed the word 'future' from his speech he would have said: "Morning....Vote Labour...Goodbye'. Labour, he declared, was "in the future business". What? He even bragged nonsensically that "the manifesto is written in the future tense". Well, if you are going to write about what you intend to do in the next five years, that certainly helps. Sadly, the Q & A session was marred by ill-mannered behaviour; hacks with perceived or open Tory sympathies, such as the geezer from The Sun, were heckled and jeered when they attempted to ask The Dour One about his tax policy. Even the BBC's Nick Robinson, bald pate gleaming in the spotlights, was roughed up. Brown quivered with glee at this boorishness and even managed to produce a genuine smile, rather than the pained reaction to red hot needles being threaded through his nipples he normally displays. Brown left the stage to the strains of 'Your Love Keeps Lifting Me Higher and Higher', although I suspect the Mephedrone also helped.

The cover of the manifesto raised more comment than its contents, mainly because of its similarity to previous Communist Party posters. It depicts a couple gazing at what apppears to me to be a massive nuclear explosion. Lord Mandelson, oleaginous of demeanour and wild of fringe, asserted the guiding theme of the manifesto was "Blair Plus" - although I actually think he said it was guided by "Bag Puss": "A saggy old manifesto, baggy and very loose at the seams........We will mend it, we will stitch it, and also guarantee four weeks paid paternity leave for new fathers". If the Conservative manifesto is inspired by Pipkins, then my vote is secured.

Bagpuss reads the manifesto:

Desperately Seeking Miriam

The greatest scandal of the campaign is, of course, the fact that Nick Clegg's wife, Senorita Miriam Gonzalez Durantez Pele Tapas de Silva Viva Espana Clegg, has arrogantly decided to go to work, and look after her children rather than walk submissively two paces behind her husband and smile vacantly at ogling hacks asking vacuous questions. Thankfully, this blatant snub to the electorate was rectified when Miriam joined Cleggy on a stunt on Saturday morning. Now, Miriam is an extremely elegant and intelligent woman so Lib Dem spinmeisters must have racked their brains for a suitable photo shoot to match her glittering presence. So they came up with the obvious - dry stone walling in a field just outside Sheffield! On a glorious morning, the loving pair trudged up a muddy field whilst photographers waded through cow pats to get that perfect shot. Clegg shook hands with a couple of horny handed sons of toil, who happened to be lounging against a gate before donning safety gloves and making a total hash of placing one rock on top of another. Health and safety reared its head when somebody asked Clegg if he wanted to wear safety goggles, which he declined, conjuring up potential headlines like: 'Clegg loses eyes and bit of his chin in incompetent wall building horror in field. Wife, wearing stylish off the shoulder Gucci jodhpurs, believed unhurt but sprayed with his blood'. I look forward to seeing Miriam doing some serious pipe lagging on the outskirts of Runcorn next week

Sunday saw great excitement in a Sutton Coldfield park. Sir Ian 'Beefy' Botham was embarking on another admirable charity walk and he was joined by one of Britain's greatest athletes, the complete and utter walker Dave 'Porkies' Cameron. Cameron joined Sir Beefy on a 4 mile walk, which quickly reduced him to levels of pinkness hitherto only seen on those funny little monkeys. Having seen Cameron in the flesh, I can confirm his skin really is as smooth and unblemished as it looks in the posters: he is the Morph of politics.

It is becoming clear how the party leaders handle the interaction with the 'ordinary people' they encounter on their stage managed jaunts across the country. Cameron has a jovial, baby-faced amiability about him, albeit with a bit too much 'Yah, Rupert's a bloody-good-bloke', Home Counties, shootin' and fishin', G & and T on the terrace, back-slapping bonhomie. Clegg is inoffensive and bland. Brown, though, is hopelessly wooden, openly uninterested in his interlocutors, and remorselessly incapable of the most basic pleasantries - hence Sarah's ubiquity. A typical Brown visit:

Voter: Morning, Mr Brown

Brown: Er.........A Future Fair for All..............

Voter: We've worked really hard to make this community centre work for the local youngsters.

Brown: Yes.....have you.......when are you...........er.............new regulatory architecture for global financial transactions........I'm more middle class than you.......

Voter: May I ask you about your policies,, Mr Brown?

Brown (panics): HELP!.....SARAH!....British jobs for British workers.....WHERE'S SARAH?.....(runs off, clutching his jowls).

Best howler so far: A Sky newsreader was talking about Labour's pisspoor campaign video which, she breathlessly informed us, was "narrated by the former David Who.....I mean, the former David Tennant". Nice to see Sky journalists have no difficulty distinguishing between reality and science fiction.

Caine and Unable

The election has been enthralling the nation for minutes now; Camilla has even broken her leg launching herself off a Scottish mountain in a crazed bid to escape the excitement (or possibly Charlie reciting 'The Old Man of Lochnagar' to her yet again - details are still confused). Despite this jollity, there was a gaping void in the campaign - the lack of celebrities. Has Paul Daniels issued his traditional threat to leave the country if Labour wins? Is Tess Daly no longer interested in the married couples tax allowance? Does Sir Alex Ferguson think postponing the National Insurance rise is "typical Conservatives"? But wait, what's this? Why, if it isn't Sir Michael Cockney, exhumed by the Cameronservatives to speak in favour of its new wheeze, a National Citizen Service.

Caine, a sprightly 105 years old, proved that actors really do need to stick to the script. He began by whingeing about his national service, which he "hated"; he then appeared to think the election was already over, referring to the Conservatives as "the Government". Caine then droned about his younger days running around the Elephant and Castle and blathered: "I'm a representative of all those young people who have been forgotten in this country". Caine and Cameron then buggered off to a school where a bewildered Caine was sat next to a youth with an orange afro of Millennium Dome dimensions. Caine sympathised with the deprived youngsters before getting into his chauffeur-driven car for the short drive back to his Chelsea mansion.

Cameron, who was successfully removed from his conjoined twin Sam at Great Ormond Street that morning, revealed that he had performed voluntary service when a pink-faced, annoying teenager: " I visited elderly and vulnerable people near Windsor". That should bring back happy memories if Dave wins the election and is presented to Lizzie and Phil the Greek: "Hell's teeth, Liz, it's that bloody awful little oik who wanted to clean our windows. Here's 10p, now sod off!"

Speaking of bloody oiks, Boris has been allowed out! The floppy-haired, generously-girthed, serial philanderer accompanied Dave to the Royal Chelsea Hospital, where grizzled veterans of affairs with John Terry and Ashley Cole, many with terrible wounds, are cared for. Bozza arrived on his bike and declared to the security guard: "The future Prime Minister is visiting today", although whether he was referring to Cameron or himself was unclear. Cameron looked overjoyed to see Bozza; at one point he nearly looked at him. Hacks were gagging for a Boris gaffe and, after a period of inarticulate rumbling and hair tugging, he duly delivered. Over tea and cakes in the sunshine, Cameron expounded about the bloody silly voluntary National Citizen Service, much to the incomprehension of the red-coated heroes. Suddenly Boris woke up, sprayed crumbs, performed hair origami, and bellowed: "Why don't we make it compulsory?" There was a momentary embarrassed silence, the Chelsea pensioners commiserated with Dave on the shocking conduct of his fat brother, and the whole visit was swiftly curtailed.

Sam Cam enjoyed her new found freedom by wandering around a garden centre near Leeds. Elegantly attired in some clothes on her body and her legs, she pointed at some shrubs and looked at begonias before retiring to a local transport cafe she called "Daddy's mansion", where she enjoyed an agreeable luncheon of Peasant Pie, Roasted Grayling, Posh Tart, washed down by 6 cans of Carlsberg. Her opponent, Sarah Brown, was said to be "discomfited" by a heckler who yelled at her: "Will you get your husband to tell the truth?". The heckler was believed to be a disturbed multi-millionaire from Liverpool, Mrs Cherie Blair.

Meanwhile, the Lib Dems are reprising that great '70s sitcom, 'On the Buses', albeit with considerably funnier policies and less enlightened attitudes towards women. 'Inspector' Cable can frequently be heard groaning, "I'll get you, Cleggy", as the hapless Clegg promises not to increase VAT and pinches Sarah Teather's bum. They are careering unnoticed around the country in their Battle Bus, a vomit-yellow monstrosity, occasionally picking up passengers in a bid to raise much needed campaign funds. The Ministry of Defence is rumoured to be interested in purchasing the bus to replace the heavily armoured tandems, currently used to transport 'our boys' in Helmand.

We now have the first casualty of the campaign: Stuart MacLennan, Labour candidate in Moray, has been caught posting obscene and abusive tweets. Many are too foul mouthed to repeat on a respectable blog but the most reprehensible included: "Vote Labour", "A Future Fair for All", and, most unforgiveably, "Gordon Brown will serve five more years as PM. Am drunk again". The Cabinet were united in condemning the last tweet, calling it "disgraceful" and "totally unacceptable behaviour".

Finally, the most grotesque image of the day. Lib Dem activists in disgraced Geoff 'Buff' Hoon's former constituency, Ashfield, have labelled the Labour candidate, raven-haired ex-GMTV presenter Gloria Del Piero, "Geoff Hoon in a skirt". Mr Hoon was understandably outraged: "The Lib Dems know that I never wear a skirt, although for £3,000 a day + VAT, I promise to do absolutely anything you want. Fancy a good time, mister?".

Election!

At damn bloody last! Yes, Gordon Brown took the short journey to the Palace on Tuesday to ask Lizzie von Windsor to dissolve Parliament and launch the 2010 General Election. Frenzied excitement ensued: Corin Redgrave popped his clogs; Lenny Henry and Dawn French announced their marriage was over due to 'irreconcilable differences over how to reduce the deficit', and the 24 hour news media became immediately absurd. Helicopters clattered above Whitehall, media tents were erected opposite Parliament, and a gaunt Nicholas Witchell somehow penetrated the tight security around Buckingham Palace. The Sky News royal correspondent appeared to be hopelessly in love with the Queen: "She is such a polite and pleasant person" he oozed, as if reassuring us that she would not scream at Brown: "EFF OFF OUT OF MY PALACE, YOU GREY-SKINNED GIT!".

Dave Cameron launched his campaign on the South Bank opposite Parliament, surrounded by young, beautiful Tories who must all, inexplicably, have been waiting to take a turn around the London Aquarium at exactly the time he rolled up. Cameron declared that he would be campaigning on behalf of the 'The Great Ignored', who appeared to comprise absolutely everybody above the age of 18. Brown, meanwhile, ordered his surly mob of a Cabinet ouside Number 10 to prove that: "I am not a team of one but one of a team" before boring everybody by banging on about his 'ordinary middle-class background'; the strain of suppressing yawns and grimaces was evident on all the Cabinet's faces - apart from David Miliband whose face is fixed in a permanent grimace. Clegg appeared in front of a pair of revolving doors with Vince Cable, who looked at his leader with ill-disguised contempt.

Brown was then chased through the streets of London by Sky's roving helicopter, like a scene from 'The Fugitive'. He took shelter in St Pancras Station where, fortuitously, a group of adolescent Labour supporters just happened to be hanging about on the concourse. Brown bulldozed through the station, yawping at people and brutally stroking kids with his great clunking fist. He later turned up at a Morrisons in Kent, where he proceeded to garner votes by pushing in front of old ladies in the checkout queue, laughing very loudly at innocuous comments, and invading the staff canteen and ruining the lunchtime Pot Noodles of Janice and Wayne from the sweets counter. One spotty dude, sensing glory, asked him: "Do you fancy a job here?", a question Brown was significantly unable to answer. Cameron fled northwards to a hospital in Birmingham where he immediately rolled up his sleeves (copyright: T. Blair) and shed his tie (ditto) and interrogated bemused, ill Brummies about how good the food was. Still, didn't the equine Sam Cameron look nice in them clothes things she was wearing? I do hope Sarah Brown wears some clothes things too.......