mayor idiocy is sleep fiasco

Britain’s 'biggest' mayor, Boris Johnson, has been asleep for at least five years, his closest confidante has revealed in stunning new reports.

It is claimed that Johnson, 44, the floppy haired ‘accidental racist’ who made his name as the reeling fool of television panel shows, fell into a stupid slumber sometime in 2002, and he has remained in said state of unbroken wakelessness ever since. While he is able to formulate sentences and engage in what appears to be conversation, the confidante – who has opted to remain anonymous due to cowardice – has assured the British public that these oddities are merely the result of anomalous motor functions occurring in the sleep.

Johnson, just minutes before he fell asleep in 2002.

“His speech patterns can really be considered as a sort of knee-jerk reaction,” explained Dr Daniel Quaint, a sleep expert at St Thomas’ Hospital. “They are happening entirely unconsciously, simple sleep babbling. He has no awareness of his speech and no real control over what he is saying. Which for me makes a lot of sense, having heard the man Johnson’s laughable attempts at eloquence.”

Tory invertebrate David Cameron, who selected Johnson as the Conservative’s mayoral candidate, is reported to have been fully aware of Johnson’s sleeping, despite his initial whimperings to the contrary. In his most recent press release, Cameron has tweaked his lies into affirming that he was aware of the issue but deemed it inappropriate to allow such a personal matter to interfere with Johnson’s campaigning. He assured reporters that he still considered him “the best candidate for the job”, adding as an aside that when awake he was “even worse”.

For many politicians the reports come as little surprise, with many Labour MPs claiming it to be the only explanation for Johnson’s consistent idiocy and his complete inability to grasp even the simplest concepts. Dr Quaint disagrees: “Although asleep, and despite lacking any reasonable faculty to veto what he says before he says it, the contents of Mr Johnson’s brain remain inherently unchanged. The sheer lack of intellect, decency or common sense remain unaffected. Unfortunately these traits are all very much a part of him, awake or asleep.”

The reports have met with public outrage. “This is further evidence of the state of this country,” said Derek Clumpen, a London bus driver from Stoke Newington. “How does a sleeping buffoon get elected to be Mayor of London? I feel lied to by the Tories – if I had known neither I or my family would ever have voted for the bastard. I idiot,” he said angrily.

Despite a series of loosely plotted tests, scientists remains baffled as to why Mr Johnson is asleep, and when he can be expected to wake up. Some predictions pencil in a 2015 estimate, but it is based only on imagination and a lack of real interest in the issue at hand.

“It changes very little of our day-to-day lives,” maintained Dr Quaint, “even here in London. Johnson has proved himself to be consistently stupid since he entered the public eye. The fact of his wakelessness has no bearing on his ability to act as mayor and, considering he has been asleep since well before his election to office, we can expect to see no change as a result of these public revelations. Now that’s democracy.”

Neither Mr Johnson or Mr Cameron were available for commen

shamed davis charged

Aging snooker ace Steve Davis, nicknamed sports dullest man, was arrested by enthusiastic police last night after initiating a public sexual act with a full sized snooker table at a charity match.

Davis, who endorsed the children’s range of Pot Black snooker tables in the late 1980s, was on good form throughout the match with close friend and comic Jim Davidson. During the third frame, in which Davis led by 20 points, a stunned crowd could only watch in horror as his chin began to drop, closely followed by his trousers and pants.

“I couldn’t believe it, I really couldn’t,” said the distraught referee, whose nose has been bleeding since the match. “He just dropped his trousers with this vacant glaze over his little eyes, and he started pumping this awful thin shaft into the table’s top pocket. He groaned like an animal, then the audience started to vomit at the sight of those white, white buttocks, clenching with every pump. It was an awful day for snooker, an end to the innocence of the once great sport. Thirty years of refereeing and I’ve never seen anything like that.”

"Feel the length of my cue," gobbles Davis - in new uniform - at a special underground prison facility.

Five-times world champion Davis tried to apologise to fans in a press conference given only hours ago. “I was carried away,” said ‘Simple Face’ Davis. “I saw my opening and I took it, slipped it right into the pocket. As a sportsman, I had to. Snooker is a sexy sport, all long cues and cushioned flanks. It was too much for me yesterday and I had to screw. Endgame.”

Davis is to appear in court next week. The odds of him fucking something inappropriate at the hearing are as little as 3/1 in most high street bookmakers.

no hope for waiting pensioner

A pensioner who has been queuing at the Post Office since 1996 finally gave up hope in a moving public speech issued yesterday afternoon.

Caroline Olde, who visited the Post Office to pay a gas bill at 9am sharp over 10 years ago, has been pushed out of the way by an estimated 20,000 younger customers and never proceeded beyond the mid-way waiting point, surviving solely on breadcrumbs and scraps of paper, she told an indifferent audience.



“They’ve taken advantage of my frail body,” she sobbed. “It’s disgraceful. I have no idea what happened to my family.”

Her husband, who has now remarried, refused to comment. Post Office executives, when questioned about the old lady’s plight and her perpetual presence on the premises, claimed that they “simply hadn’t noticed her”.


An artists impression of how Mrs Olde may look when she finally receives service well into the next decade.

“We aim to have Mrs Olde served and on her way by 2015,” said a lone fat man stretched into a beard snood.

office culling boosts morale

A South London office has begun a trial run of staff murders in an attempt to boost morale.

Julian Sadcase Ltd., a filing and storage solutions company based in Barnes, drafted the daring new proposal after staff complaints were noted regarding the "slovenly attitude" and "lack of commitment" in some of their younger employees.

“You know what these youngsters are like,” moaned Mr Sadcase, “just out of college and still with the hope of a better future. It’s that temp mentality. They think they’re too good for menial work like this, and their blasé approach was starting to take its toll on some of my more hopeless staff.”

The management board will begin murdering one junior a month, hoping that the measures will not only detract younger employees from their costly lack of motivation, but also enable older workers to feel inspired with the justice of the decisions.

If the pilot scheme takes off the murders will become more frequent, eventually being conducted by other employees selected by a raffle draw. It is predicted that a huge number of new vacancies will open up in order to deal with the demands of the slaughter.

The project has the full backing of the job centre, who babbled incoherently.

attenborough cocoon to bugger drivers

London came to a standstill today as the broadcaster and naturalist Sir David Attenborough began the tentative construction of the cocoon that will house him for a period of twelve months while his body regenerates, The Dogshite can report.

Attenborough, 83, an integral face of the BBC since 1950, is working with scientists from University College London to prepare the chrysalis which he hopes will provide his body with the appropriately constructed nutrients for growth and differentiation.

“My life has been long and worthwhile,” explained Attenborough. “More so than some. The advance in technology has vastly accelerated our ability to interfere with life, in ways I find both shocking and wonderful. The construction of this chrysalis represents the zenith of our achievement in the field. It represents me.”

According to a UCL spokesperson, Attenborough – who famously ejaculated on screen during the “Blue Whale Incident” in his ‘Life of Mammals’ series – will be sealed within the chrysalis by the end of June, where his body’s mechanisms will all but shut down. It is predicted that he should then emerge a year later, having undergone a period of significant rejuvenation, feeling not only fitter but also younger in appearance.

Whilst the specific makeup of the cocoon’s protective shell is shrouded in secrecy, Professor Peter Forcible, who is fronting the project for the University of London, claims that the science is beyond reproach. “This is something my team has been exploring for many years. It is, if you like, the point to which all human sciences have led: the elixir of life, the mythical fountain of youth. For me, nothing matters but this, the things that I am doing.”

The cocoon is being suspended at a height of thirty feet above Gower Street, where Professor Forcible believes the conditions will be optimal for Attenborough’s metamorphosis. “Sir David is an incredible man and a British icon,” he smirked. “My hope is that this cocoon will provide his brittle ailing body with the sheer scale of merit his brain still so rightly deserves.”

A mostly pointless leak to this publication has stated that Attenborough will breathe through a series of genetically engineered oxygen holes, and that an unnamed protein will effectively catalyse the reconstruction of his leaf-dry flesh.

Attenborough is said to be preparing for the twelve month ordeal by eating huge quantities of bread, a task he is undertaking with his trademark stoicism. “Bread is, very much, bread,” he explained earlier today. He is currently negotiating a deal with the BBC’s Natural History Unit to film the process in uninterrupted, unedited, fully disclosed real time. A new channel is to be created for the non-stop broadcast, with extensive digital features.

Gordon Brown has acknowledged Attenborough’s work as vital to the unmentionable degree, grunted in incomprehensible Scottish aphorism before a baying House.