English Books Is Great For Reading, by Gichael Mauve

American books are crap. Especially the stuff they teach in schools as it’s all about stuff that’s happening in another country and doesn’t have much British stuff in it. They’re also bloody misleading. I mean, take Of Mice and Men. Lots of men, but where’s the bloody mice, Steinbeck, you bloody American git! ‘But’, people say to me, ‘have you read any of these books’, and I have. And I particularly thought the bit where Burgess Meredith killed Stephen Fry in Of Mice and Men was rubbish. Also, something like Of Mice and Men teaches the English bad things, like why people of the intellectual rigour of Lenny have to die, just because they are really smart and only murder people by mistake, a bit like the Conservative policies do. To Kill A Mockingbird is another terrible story, as it teaches all kinds of things about racial tolerance and whiteys being prejudiced and why you should question bigotry, which is diametrically opposed to the Tory policies which UKIP stole off of us.

English children should be learning the English books about all things that England do, a bit like the history, in which they learn should all learn about what happens in England as nothing outside of England is worthwhile and only English people are great and skill and can do wheelies on their Grifters and stuff. So I have outlined a load of tops and great English books which we shall be teaching in the schools because everything not from this country is rubbish.


The Rats by James Herbert

“Hold on, Mauvey,” you might be thinking. “James Herbert has gone on record saying that The Rats was a commentary about the social depravation he was seeing around him in London in the seventies, and therefore might not be teaching a positive message to today’s hep cats!” But you could not be further from the truth. The main thing The Rats teaches us is that you should not be a tramp, because if you’re a tramp a big load of rats will come along and nibble on your testicles, and then you won’t be very happy. Also, if you’re a single mother your baby will be eaten. So The Rats has a lot of top messages for people not to be poor.

Killer Crabs by Guy N Smith

This is a great book because it features lots of action and posh people running about doing it with ladies and then taking control when giant crabs turn up and start scooping entrails into their gaping maws like spaghetti. Killer Crabs also says there are great things in science and that, as all the crabs must be genetically modified or something – I haven’t really done the research – all those giant crabs running about means loads of giant crab meat so no one needs to go hungry or anything. Also, the army prove to be useless in it, which goes to back-up our policy of cutting off their funding.

Fifty Shades of Spanking by E L James

This is English and just shows how a load of great writing which appears to be massively shit can take over the world and introduce ladies to the idea of doing rude things with blokes with power and money, and then maybe they wouldn’t call me a pob faced dickhead and I can get naughty women to take my rude bits. It also teaches ladies that rich blokes are great and they should do whatever they tell them too, and that man is king and ladies need a good slap to keep them in line and they like it really, the whores!!!

Harry Testicles and the Order of the Cunt by J K Rowling

Harry Testicles is a great character for all those English children to learn about, as he goes to private school and anyone who doesn’t is a ‘Cuntlle’ in the vernacular of the book, and they should not be trusted. Private education will lead to being a wizard and you can have great adventures after lights out when the soggy biscuits come out, although they must have cut that out of the original edit of the book. Also, gingers are stupid and fat beardy country bumpkins can be laughed at and are stupid, and money and privilege are the only things that matter, as my great mates in the cabinet will attest. Remember to buy the whole series, though, from Harry Testicles and the Philosopher’s Bollocks to Harry Testicles and the Deathly Labour, as they teach the vital message that private education teaches you to do magic.

Ten Little Ethnic Minorities by Agatha Christie

Agatha Christie is a marvellous ambassador for the English language, because not only does she have some marvellous stories about posh people being bumped off, she also knows how to treat Johnny Foreigner.

Hopsy Flopsy and the Tale of the Farmer’s Shotgun by Beatrix Potter

In which our erstwhile bunny rabbit Hopsy Flopsy realises that stealing from the landed gentry could wind up with him being eviscerated by a twelve bore and then torn apart by dogs. The message is simple – don’t fuck with property owners, plebling, because you will die horribly.

Noddy and the Gas Chambers of Happiness by Nigel Farage

In this new series UKIP ubermensch and small penis Nigel Farage presents a modern take on Enid Blyton’s much loved Golliwog bashing character Noddy. Toyland is being overrun by foreign types and it’s down to Noddy, Bigears and Mr. Plod to build a giant wall around the town and then put any foreign types into special chambers where Happy Gas sends them to sleep forever. Meanwhile Mr Golly has been spending far too much time in the company of Mr Jumbo, and they are evicted from Toyland for being an affront to God.

Let us hope this retracts – I mean ‘expands’ – our children’s minds.


It’s Eurofever!!! By Wanky ‘Wank’ Wank

Hold onto your bellends, people, because it’s Eurofever time again as the usual bunch of massive cunts say the first thing that comes into their heads to try and curry favour with the dribbling masses.

And as per normal the usual bunch of right wing lunatics and simpering lefties come crawling out of the woodwork to try and pretend that anything they say is worth the paper I wipe my arse on. This year, with the massive Cuntopolis of UKIP presenting an alternative bigoted racist viewpoint outside of the Conservatives, the punditocracy have been promoting this shitfest of ideas as a race for the very soul of humanity!!! If that doesn’t deserve a crap load of exclamation marks then I don’t know what does.

But what do the various parties actually represent. We take a look at their manifestos and break down their sometimes impenetrable crayon scribblings to present a simple guide to the massive cunts on offer:

The British Massive Cunty Pile of Old Shit Party

Known for their rabid right wing flag waving spitfire shagging ways, the BMCPOSP boast a voting bloc made out of bullet headed rabidly right wing and openly racist holocaust deniers and Jimmy Saville admirers. Over the years their helmet-headed ways have been a calling card for every bigoted xenophobic shitfaced twatmonkey that ever masturbated over a picture of her Vagesty the Queen. This cornucopia of cretinous fuckwads have seen their core vote dribbling slowly away to UCUNT over the years due to the ability of UCUNT’s frog faced overlord to laugh at a pint of beer. Speaking of which:


The United Conservatives Ugly Numpty Twats as they’re known have been the rising force in British politics. Openly racist, sexist and homophobic whilst at the same time denying it, UCUNTs aims are to build an electric fence around the UK which zaps anyone from Them Lands Over There and from people within the UK who can’t trace their heritage back to whichever badger fucking loon owned a mansion in the home counties. Secretly gunning for the execution of any man who looks at a gentleman’s bottom, let alone touches one, their hilarious combination of coprophiliac corpse fucking and generally being vile has been a siren call to every frothing cheesy helmet who wishes Jim Davidson was back on the telly and who, whilst inwardly racist, finds it difficult to actually put on the armbands and build the gas chambers without a bit of prompting first, as long as it’s disguised as ‘keeping the pound’ ‘controlling immigration’ or whatever puerile right wing piss these fuckholes espouse.

The Cuntservatives

Basically the above two parties but with more elaborate phraseology.

The Labour

I’m not exactly sure what their manifesto stands for. The leaflet I received was just a blank piece of paper, a crayon, and a small message which said ‘fill in as necessary.’ Problem is there’s been so much media coverage of Farage and his twisted dribbling homunculi on the news that poor old Labour haven’t been able to get a word in, bless them. Basically it’ll be a load of right wing shit dressed up in left wing rhetoric which more or less caters to the same corporate big wigs slipping fivers into Cameron’s bra strap. It’s like the poor dears have just given up, really. They’ve actually got a Shadow Minister for Care and Older People. Isn’t that lovely?

The Liberal Turncoatacrats

The Lib Plebs are standing for a concerted drive on telling a big load of old porkies about what they’d do if they got into power. Minister for Massive Ginsters, Lying O’Bastard, has gone on record as saying, ”we’ll definitely oppose tuition fees this time, honest guvnor, and no mistakin’, would you like to buy some second watches, totally legitimate, cor blimey, – hold up, geezer – it’s the rozzers – they’ve tumbled our game – scarper!” Minister for Pointing In One Direction and Then Running Away in the Other, Arnold Massivefibs, said “Just because we did a load of U-turns on everything we said and then spent valuable time pissing about with reformation of the Lords and AV voting when we should have been kicking the Conservatives in the bollocks and opposing their draconian measure, does not mean you can’t trust us. What do you mean ‘where’s my wallet gone?’”

The Greens

Lovely tree hugging kaftan wearing hippies, the Green Party are far too environmentally aware to worry about stuff like fiscal policy or the housing shortage. When they get in power money will be made out of leaves and we shall all wipe our bottoms on clouds. Or something. Actually, they’re probably a bunch of hard faced tattooed dockers who shit napalm and can drink Oliver Reed under the table, but they get tarred with the tree hugging brush because they don’t want to fuck the world over. If they just had a party political broadcast of Razors Knuckles Punchy McBigfist (Natalie Bennett’s real name) punching Nigel Farage in the bollocks and then roundhouse kicking David Cameron they’d get a ton of votes. Little known fact: The Green Party have a Chuck Norris division.

There’s a bunch of other cunts running as well but they’re all fucking mad. People used to laugh at nutjobs like the English Democrats or the Christian People’s Alliance – and yet somehow the mentally unstable views propagated by these people have been taken as gospel when transplanted onto massive wankers like UKIP. Even the fucking BNP managed to gain a certain modicum of media interest. What the fuck is happening in the world!?

People say that frothing lunatic bigots like UKIP have managed to capture the countries viewpoint and express what many people are afraid of saying out loud, but those views are a massive load of old racist shite pushed by small minded twats who shouldn’t be allowed near matches. They’re basically the equivalent of the sort of loud mouthed testicle headed fart in a bucket who drunkenly yells in pubs about how it’s easier for a foreign type to get a job because of the colour of their skin, and these people are massive cunts. They just shout the loudest, and drown all sensible coherent argument down with their wankish bullying tactics. Fuck them, and any cunt who votes for them.

This has been another neutral post from Lord Wanky ‘Wank’ Wank.

The First World War Had Bouncy Castles by historical revisionist Dicky Splash

There has been a lot of kerfuffle in the so called ‘media’ about modern interpretations of historical factutainment, from spinny-eyed loon-meister David Irving’s idea that only an old man and his hairy dog were exterminated in the Nazi death camps, to the Pob-faced Gove monsters idea that World War One was actually a massively great laugh and hardly anyone was killed and they all ate cake for tea in the trenches. I have trawled social media and the solid reportage of papers like The Sun and The Express to track down some of the more interesting interpretations of what we perceive to be historical fact.



In the book ‘My Turn On the Fruit Machine, Mr Kitchener’ by Conservative MP, Johnathan Smythe-Touchkids he postulates the theory that life in the trenches was all a great big party, and even though a few hundred thousand people might have been killed in the Somme and Flanders they were all really twats who deserved it anyway. He bases this idea on a chat he heard in Michael Gove’s house where Gove told him it was definitely the truth, and anyone who said different was a massive bellend, and why did everyone keeps calling him a gormless bag of monkey spunk? After doing some research in the local pub talking to a bunch of people who weren’t even there, Johnathan realised that the trenches were actually a great big night club with sexy ladies and cocktails, and the only reason anyone got shellshock was because they were so hung over. The endless booming of the guns was actually the bass turned up high.



Rather than personally boot the UK’s industrial base in the knackers until it gave up and went for a cry, Thatcher’s regime was actually a driving force in union relations. In her book ‘I’m Fucking Mad, Me’, Margaret Hilda Ogden Spunkbubble Mussolini Thatcher tells how she used to go around Scargill’s palatial winter home with a nice cake. Scargill would often sit on a throne made of money and orphans and suck the blood from a virgin, before throwing her offer to let the unions run the world back in her face, telling her he would only be satisfied if the world was overrun by dinosaurs with lasers for bollocks. At one of these meeting he informed her that all public services had a nuclear device hidden inside of them, and unless they were dismantled and turned over to the private sector they would explode and destroy all the kittens in the world. A piece by Masti O’Bator for The Daily Mail purported to have found evidence that the manufacturing basis of the UK was actually created to harvest souls for demons from the netherworld, which is why Thatcher had to get rid of it.



A crusading journalist for The Bastard Times, Wanky McFucknuggets, is said to have found an ancient scrap of parchment in the bowels of the Houses of Parliament when he was looking for somewhere to have a shit one day. This scrap told a tale of how a meteor fell from the sky and brought forth an infant with superhuman powers. As the boy grew into a man he was said to be able to shoot fire from his nipples and punch out planets with his cheesy helmet. But first he required a cover story, so he re-invented himself as a genocidal dictator hell-bent on ridding the world of all socialist principles. That man was Ian McGaskill. Tony Blair, on the other hand, has always been a twat, as revealed in the expose from muck racking journo Binny McStealy, ‘Why Blair Is A Cunt: A Theoretical Proposition’.



Reverend Skiddy O’Caks produced a pamphlet in the small town of Testicles, Arkansas in the 1970s stating that dinosaurs did not even exist in fossil form, and to believe in them meant you would go to hell forever and nice ladies would laugh at the size of your penis. On the controversial panel discussion politics cookery show ‘Shut Your Mouth, Fatty’, Reverend O’Caks was challenged on his ideas when Professor Beechams Toiletpaper invited him to tour the Natural History Museum. When O’Caks agreed the cameras followed this historic clash of science versus faith. However, confronted with the evidence first-hand the Reverend refused to acknowledge there were giant fuck off fossilised dinosaur skeletons dangling above his head, even when Beechams proceeded to batter him senseless with the rib bone of a T-rex. Professor Toiletpaper was subsequently released without charge once the officer in charge realised that Creationists were mental, and by way of compensation allowed the Professor a ten minute window in which to kick the Reverend’s fucking stupid head in with some steel toe-capped Doc Martins.



UKIP have been represented in the media as a bunch of right wing xenophobic mental patients with an ideology so socially disruptive and bigoted even the Conservatives have decided to adopt their policies. However, as revealed in the revisionist tract ‘The Tears Of Quite a Lot of Clowns, Actually’ by Brownshirt O’Armband, Nigel Farage and his merry band of gibbering shit throwers are far from the morally corrupt sex offenders so often portrayed in the media. Born a talking frog, Nigel’s dream was to bring the art of the clown to a political spectrum under the idea that the current political parties were a joke anyway. His only concern related to how his comedy bigot persona – created to poke fun at the more right wing elements of the press and establishment – could be misinterpreted. Through a series of mime, concept art, and shadow puppet theatre Farage was on a quest to bring a light hearted touch to the corridors of Whitehall, and when this was misrepresented by right wing papers like The Guardian and The Observer Nigel’s only recourse was to cry like a girl. In an alternative history of the party, Lefty O’Treehugger’s expose ‘Why Nigel Is a Cunt’ posits that UKIP is a cunt party run by cunts for cunts and all their cunt candidates are up there on the cunt pedestal with a bunch of cunt policies and cunt fucking fuck piss cunt. His views are seen as ‘challenging’.


Other wacky revisionist theories we didn’t have time for:

The Tories care for the poor

The Lib Dems are not a bunch of turncoat shit badgers

Labour are more than 6th form debating society

The Green Party exist


UKIP are Sane by Crackers O’Fruitcake

There has been some grumblings amongst the lefties recently about UKIP candidates being a bunch of racist, sexist homophobic spinny-eyed drooling slack jawed mentally incapable throwbacks who perform about as much service to the good of mankind as a big load of H-bombs sprinkled with Hitlers. However, the reality could not be further from the truth. Just because there has been some indiscretions recently involving most of our candidates does not mean the entire Übermensch who make up our soon-to-be glorious thousand year reign should be tarred with the same feather. So now I present a brief rundown of our top candidates just to prove that we’re a modern, forward thinking and inclusive party for today’s eighteenth century feudal landlord. I mean twenty first century forward thinking but conservative minded progressive.

Hitler McGoebbals

After the Afghanistan Chainsaw Misunderstanding – allegations which were denied in court once the negatives had been burnt – Mr McGoeballs proved to be of great benefit to the UKIP party after defecting from the Conservatives after his ‘exterminate the poor’ bill was deemed as ‘too liberal’ by David Cameron. As Minister For Keeping ‘Em Out, Hitler will be in control of the borders, and once the twelve foot electrified fence has been erected around England we should have no trouble humanely dealing with them foreign types.

Bobfrey Gloom

Known for his outspoken views on feminism and its place within todays modern society, Bobfrey rose to prominence after a series of allegations involving a brothel, some farmyard machinery and a Heath Robinson inspired machine designed for spanking, all of which were thrown out by Justice Knuckles McWorthington, an impartial and well stood member of the judiciary and known to Bobfrey as ‘definitely not my best mate, despite some bottom touching activities which may or may not have occurred in Eton after lights out’. His personal involvement in child prostitution and human trafficking has seen him assisting police on many occasions with their inquiries, and once the charges are dropped we are sure Gloom will make a robust and dedicated candidate as Minister For Slamming His Dick In The Door.

Neil Dicksplash

Described as ‘a charistwattic member of UKIP’ by The Guardian and ‘ our country’s greatest hope’ by The Express, Neil is no stranger to publicity. After being disgraced from Parliament for ‘acting in disrepute to the standards of his office by being a massive bellend’ his ejection from the Conservatives was only the start of his new career as a media pundit and laughing stock. Despite a minor setback when he was caught whooping ‘chow on my meaty plumbs, you craven whorescum’ whilst slapping his balls in the face of his wife during a primetime chatshow on BBC1, UKIP are certain that his inspiring personality disorder will act as a distraction for some of our more challenging policies.

Jeremy Tarkwington-Smythe

As a member of the foreign community (Jeremy’s great-grandparents were Welsh), Jeremy is a living example of how UKIP accepts all creeds and colours. Apart from an unfortunate episode where Tarkwington-Smythe was caught putting boot polish on his face and addressing an anti-immigration rally by allegedly stating “We’d ruddy love to be set off in a boat with no food or water, we would, by jiminy. Have you any children I could possibly eat?” Jeremy’s political career has been relatively incident free, if you discount the episode with the Prime Minister’s bottom. Standing as a candidate for Eastlington-Whitely, Jeremy’s platform includes the policy of Laughing At A Pint Of Beer In A Pub, which Nigel Farage is currently promoting.

Shiny Bellend

Shiny is well known for his challenging attitude to the holocaust which may or may not have taken place during a war of some description. After being jailed in several countries for what Shiny describes as ‘part of the Zionist conspiracy to limit free speech and re-write our glorious Aryan history’ and claiming he was definitely set up in all seventy cases Mr Bellend found that some of his more unorthodox opinions had their true home within UKIP. Initially set up as a candidate for Mars because ‘there are no space Jews on the red planet’ Mr Bellend has now downscaled his ambitions to contesting the seat of Hitlerchester, currently under Liberal Democrat control.

Donald Iveshitmytrousers

After being charged of ‘being an offensive cunt’ by his mother by trying to hold a book burning of anything not printed within the UK in his infant school at age six, Donald Iveshitmytrousers was destined for a career in politics. Ejected from the Conservative party by all the big kids for having a tiny willy, Donald found his true home after moving over to UKIP, where his massive eighth-of-an-inch tadger is the largest penis in the entire party, not counting metaphorically. Once in parliament Donald has pledged to up the amount of offensive messages UKIP candidates place on Twitter and Facebook.

 Benny Racist

Benny Racist is currently standing as a candidate in the Kent region on a platform of hating everything. Described as ‘the ideal UKIP representative’ by The Daily Mail and ‘a gibbering psychotic homophobic racist sexist sexually deviant chronic-masturbating xenophobic goat worrying serial killer in waiting’ by his wife and sister, Benny has ridden to success on a platform of UKIP tolerance by not setting fire to any foreign people for a good few weeks. Famous for taking a bit shit on Jeremy Paxman’s desk when Paxo asked him what the time was, Benny is seen as one of the more tolerant members of the party.

And finally:

Lovely Nicepants

Lovely Nicepants has been parachuted in after careful selection to the Guardian reading constituency of Wivenhoe. Lovely has a history of working within CND and campaigning for human rights and against the anti-immigration policies of the coalition. Well known as a fair, compassionate and genuinely concerned politician whose interest is directly related to the common good of all mankind, Lovely is actually a fictitious construct who, if she did exist, would be paraded around in stocks in a UKIP voting borough whilst being pelted with rotten fruit for contravening the laws of nature by being a woman with a job, after which she would be ceremonially offered up to the Gods of Bigotry by being burnt in a huge wicker-man effigy of Enoch Powell.

Biopics – Fitting Tribute or a Load of Made-up Shite by Scratchy McBellend – Professor of Fuck All at the Portsmouth University for Ugly People.

With the news that the life of Frank Sidebottom has been co-opted into a semi-fictional biopic where facts have been fiddled with in a Jimmy Saville manner, the question must now be asked ‘Should we, the Brits, remake the lives of US real life characters to fit our own culture.’ Fair enough our American cousins see fit to produce their own highly fictionalised account of reality – just check out the massive load of Levinson enquiry sized bollocks that is JFK – but with simpering tosh like Diana and The Iron Ladder clogging up the cinema toilets with their metaphorical skiddy caks and stupendous jobbies has it finally come time to cast our own take on the life of some much beloved US stalwarts? We take a brief look at some of the projects currently in the works.

NOT BY TUESDAY, GUV – the Life and Times of John F Kennedy.

In this film Warwick Davis plays the president of the United States, John F Kennedy. We follow his life from the early days in Liverpool where Kennedy started life twokking stereos and hanging about on the street corners, probably having a moan or a whinge or something, you know what these bloody Scousers are like. Anyway, as he grows up Kennedy eschews his former life as a scallywag and street urchin and becomes a pipe fitter before he’s spotted by ace talent scout Rick Shitter (Martin Scorsese) and put on the nation’s most favourite made-up talent show, Britain’s Got Bellends where, after being booed for half an hour by the slavering, spinning eyed emotionally backwards chimps that comprise the audience Kennedy wows the baying mob with a pitch perfect rendition of My Old Mans a Dustman before finding fortune in America and becoming President. However, bored with life in the Oval Office he gives it all up when he meets a Cornetto Saleswoman Felicity Fannybatter (Michael Fassbinder) and elopes to the Outer Hebrides to bring up a flock of sparrows. Rated PG for fucking cunty swearing.


In this true life biopic, Elvis (Legends of the Fall and The Edge star Bart the Bear) is born in a skip in the loveable east end cockney borough of Newcastle. After eating some magic jellied eels and doing the Lambeth Walk Elvis decides that all he ever wanted to do was work in an office in Southampton and marry some old trout who complains about the gasman all the time. In his quest to venture south of the border he hears of the Bongo Mag of Doom and sets out on a journey to recover the gentleman’s executive jazz quarterly. On his way he teams up with Jeremy Marbles (Paddy Considine), a TV repair man and kung-fu expert, and together they conquer the forces of evil in a Reliant Robin before some twat in a cowboy hat forces Elvis to sing for the rest of his life. Depressed and suffering from a lethal addiction to being fat, Elvis makes a promise to poo himself to death on the khazi. Which he does. Then he turns into a dragon and eats Sean Bean or something.

GOOD NIGHT AND FUCK OFF – Ed Murrow and the fight against McCarthyism

Concerned by the rising tide of anti-communist paranoia sweeping the country, Ed Murrow (the late Rodney Dangerfield) sets out to investigate Joseph McCarthy’s unfounded allegations and fear mongering tactics. McCarthy, played by Jennifer Lawrence, decides to go all out mad-monkey-kung-Fu-ninja on Murrow’s bottom, and they both mutate into eighty foot fire breathing toys which are available from your local Toys R Shit for a limited time only, so buy quickly, kids. After they devastate New York, McCarthy flees – pausing only to flatten Tokyo, before the finale in which McCarthy and Murrow sear the nation’s conscience with a series of tit-for-tat to-camera essays. Having finally defeated the evil that is McCarthyism, Murrow retires and gives the now legendary ‘wires and lights in a box’ speech, correctly prophesising the fact that Top Gear is a cunt programme made by cunts, presented by cunts, and watched by cunts.

I’VE SHIT MY PANTS – George Washington is a Lying Twat

As a child, East End wideboy street urchin scallywag ne-er-do-well chimney sweep and dodgy watch salesboy George Washington (Lemmy from Motorhead) scrapes a living with a broom up his arse selling knock off Taiwanese imports to gullible Guy Richie’s in a rub a dub down the fucking East End where all the cunting gangsters hang out, at least in britcrime flicks. When his dodgy cor blimey strike a light apples and pears china plate Thomas Jefferson (Max Von Sydow) and loveable rogue salt of the earth massive bastard John Adams (Jefferson Airplane) suggest they could make a tidy sum writing the Declaration of Independence they cook up a right old loveable cockney scam where some shit happens, Vinny Jones turns up and fails to fucking act for one second, the wall eyed cunt, and they singlehandedly make every cunt between the ages of fifteen and fourty who thinks they’re a bit tasty wear that stupid fucking flat cap which cunts think are cool but which really just singles out how much of a cheesy old trouser guff they actually are. Directed by Guy Richie because they need someone to make up some massively unconvincing cockney rhyming slang. How did that mockney prick ever get a career?

CRUMBS!!! – the Life of Jerry Falwell

After founding the Thomas Road Baptist Church in a hilarious knockabout opening, God knobber Jimmy Falwell (Ben Cross) decides he’s not a big enough cunt as it is so decides to speak out against the dangerous influence of Martin Luther King Jnr (played by Sylvester Stallone in drag) (p.s. this actually happened as well – the speaking out against King, not Stallone in drag, unless there’s something he’s not telling us – all that macho posturing is probably hiding a deep desire to wear wimmin’s underwear). Anyway, after speaking up for apartheid and having a go at Demond Tutu he decides to ban wanking and gay people by bumming a goat. This ends in tragedy when the goat chews through it’s rope and goes on a kill crazy zombie rampage, because you’ve got to have zombies in films these days. If they re-made Terms of Endearment they’d probably chuck a zombie in it somewhere. Mind you, that would probably improve the fucker. Anyway, racked with guilt over the deaths of millions in the goat mishap Falwell builds a rocket to the moon and fucks off forever, to much jubilation from reasonable people.

Just some of the exciting films in development, along with one about General Patton being a hairdresser or something, which I didn’t have room for.