Theresa May might be about to invoke Article 50, but for better or worse we’ve known it for months. Nicola Sturgeon met with the Prime Minister as May’s whistle-stop tour of the United Kingdom reached Scotland, but with Brexit underway Scottish independence seems inevitable, so let the ladies do their talking and who are we to fuss?
Aren’t we all a little bored when it comes to serious politics? Don’t we need someone to lighten the load, even if it means lowering the tone? Of course when it seems like the tone cannot possibly get any lower, the Daily Mail is always there to lend a helping hand. But who expected its editor, Paul Dacre the Middle Englander, to use his hands in such a manner by pulling firmly down his shorts?
Can you believe that Paul Dacre showed the world his anus? On an otherwise mundane stroll to his local corner shop? With his finger on the pulse and a propensity for selling copy, now that he has embraced nudity can this man possibly be stopped?
Dacre stepped out into the sunny morn wearing figure-hugging lycra, flaunting his posterior as only he knows how. Of course over the top of his shorts he wore brown slacks and a brown jacket, and brown shoes, and his hands were brown, for he had been busy planting shrubs. But through the flannel of his trousers he showed the world his shapely calves.
And more eager than ever to fly in the face of political and all other sorts of correctness, as the paparazzi clamoured he soon whipped off his shorts. What Dacre did next this author blushes to mention, for tearing down his Union Jack undies he rent asunder the cheeks of his bum!
The European Union, liberal intellectuals, metropolitans, inhabitants of the female form – shedding these malign influences this usually reticent man was only having a little fun. But fearing melanoma, Dacre soon covered up from the sun. Is there anything he won’t do for the viewing pleasure of his devoted readers?
