Starkey Raps!

David Starkey’s comments on Newsnight have caused quite the furore in the past few days. In one ungracious swoop Starkey managed to move from respected historian to bonafide racist. Little escaped Starkey’s tirade of racially motivated abuse, in fact rap music, Jamaican patois and (in the extended version) even Chris Eubank got a pounding for being ‘too black’.

Responding in a manner Starkey could only label ‘predictable’, some kind individual has gone to the effort to mark Starkey’s new role as Britain’s black culture expert with his first rap remix.

Not one for irony, on viewing this video Starkey was heard to have said, ‘Will these people ever learn how to communicate without a beat.’

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What the motherbeebing beeb BBC!?

Times are tough at the BBC. It would seem that a world renowned independent news team and a service sheltered from the worst of global consumerism is not enough anymore, people want Formula 1.

The backlash against this money saving deal has been incredibly interesting, mostly because there seems to be a complete misunderstanding within the media of what the hell is going on. They would have you believe that there is outrage at another national staple being snatched away from the masses into the hands of the privileged, that the government should support one of its most prized and valuable assets rather than finding new ways to constrict it. In fairness, these people are not wrong, there is an outrage, but their understanding of the underlying reasons are so far off the mark it’s not even funny. The problem isn’t that the British public have lost a much loved sporting event, there is about as much joy in modern formula 1 as in a scaletrix race with both cars on the same track. The problem is that with this gone what is to stop Wimbledon, or The Snooker, or even The Golf following suit. And if we loose them then when are we ever going to find time to nap.

How can you sleep through a 7 second pit stop...?

Britain has evolved to the stage where we no longer need to think about little things such as not putting your hand in shredder, there is a big yellow sign to tell them not to. We are people who can buy entire meals in a microwaveable container and have gotten past the stone age fears of starvation, death and loneliness so that important energy can be put into the scowl needed for when you just miss the tube and another one isn’t coming for 3 minutes. Britain then has evolved beyond that ridiculous and primitive stage where you can relax for a little bit in your leisure time, for Christ sake they might not have replaced the toner yet! These people need something so insanely dull and boring that their brains have to switch off for fear of inducing a coma, without it who knows what binge drinking, passive aggressive, stress induced repercussions there may be.

‘Oh they can just pay a little more for their naps’ I hear you cry. Can they really? I am going to just ignore the social mobility issues this raises about the working classes being just as deserving of naps as the high powered city busybodies. In fact that is hardly even a point to be made because the truth is that no one is going to be enjoying naps anymore. What good is the gentle rhythm of traffic coming into turn 6 when you are sent into a nervous shock every 15 minutes by the information overload of brash, hypnotic commercials blaring out of the TV.

And for those of you saying this is ridiculous and will never happen I would like to bring to light a very worrying corporate rumour. SKY are apparently conducting negotiations to bring Prime Ministers Questions to Sky 1 with BBC Three getting a comprehensive highlights program.

Worrying times.

JJ Coffey

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Paul Flynn and the Throbbing Members of Parliament

Paul Flynn... Cooor.

Finally. That’s the thought that came to my head, someone has finally said it. Today the future begins; a future where we are free from the delusions of a dysfunctional (Big) society. MP Paul Flynn stood up, looked the world in the eye and laid down some truth; all MPs have sexual magnetism. It speaks volumes that it has taken so long for society to produce a man, no more than that, an MP, who can speak the truth and this is a huge day for the country, if not the world. These are the sparks which light the fire of truth, away from the bullshit and delusion. Today we come to terms with one of the nation’s most obvious unspoken truths, who knows what tomorrow may bring, maybe David Milliband will call a press conference to rant at the Labour party members for choosing that spoiled little brat of a brother of his. Maybe Cameron will finally admit that hug a hoodie wasn’t the best of PR stunts to instigate when you’re trying to crack down on sexual offenders. Give it a month, maybe two, and maybe, just maybe, Douglas Hogg will admit that he didn’t really, ‘believe that my claims fell clearly within the scope of the rules’ and had drunkenly bet Prescott in an act of retaliatory party warfare that having an affair was nothing and that he was going to get away with building a moat. A mo.ther.fucking.moat.

As close as they may be these are just still hopes and dreams, and why chase dreams when you have such glorious reality. So let us return to the matter of MPs sexual magnetism. There are those who say that Paul Flynn looks like Rolf Harris from an alternative dimension where he choose the heroin over Animal Hospital, but most of their names rhyme with envy and jealous. Ever since he slipped onto the bench in that classic £99 Marks & Spencer suit he’s had Russell Brand quaking in his knee-length boots. Women love nothing more than a man who spends all day shouting juvenile insults across a room about trival matters such as nuclear war, recessions and poverty. They crave a man who will do everything in his power to screw over a peer with a different coloured tie even if it means throwing a shit sandwich at the public. And the constituency meet and greets, oh my, they go weak at the knees at the glitz of it all. Those aren’t Lidl cocktail sausages love, that’s Iceland own brand right there.

But maybe we should all hold back a bit, however joyous this situation may be I cannot help noticing Paul Flynn’s statement: “I find it totally mysterious myself… but there is this attraction.” Take a good long hard look at yourself Britain, this is what you’ve created, a man who can only admit the truth behind the cover of lies and delusion. Personally, I am inclined to believe that he is just a truly humble soul, he is an MP after all, the highest order of integrity and nobility in the known universe. But there are those who will say he is a man still cowering in a shadow of a society that despises the truth and punishes free speech. I mean just look at what we did to poor Murdoch! We bayed for his blood when all he tried to do was give us the truth at any means, means that the government understood in such a profound way that we could not, with a level of respect so high they even tried to put one of the key players, Andy Coulson, in a position where he could help us in an even more direct fashion. A joyous day it is yes, but if we want this to become a great day in history then we have to take action, cover ourselves in petrol and dive headfirst into the sparks. We have to admit that it isn’t those irresistibly sexy MPs that are wrong with this country, it’s us Britain… It’s us.

And just to be clear for those of you who think Have I Got News For You is just a really shit Newsnight… Paul Flynn is a dick.

JJ Coffey.

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