POLITIKAL POKES

By Lobbytroll


THE HOAXY-COAXY

Anti-vax group The Hastings Pillow Fighters have rebranded themselves as The Shamanic institute for the institution of Shamanic Research (UK), and I must say their whole campaign has taken on a much slicker and more professional look, particularly in the field of exhaustive medical research. For example, take this flyer, which was thrust into my top pocket in the park recently by a goat-horned man on stilts who was speaking in tongues. I ran home as fast as I could and read it aloud to my cat, Stanley:

A tension all SHEEPLES! Under know circumstants should you ALLOW the mind con-trolling NHS zombies of BIG FARMER to PEARSE you with the poisson-tipped spear of death!  This Q-anon approved vax-free no nonce-ence potion safeguards truth warriors and flat earthers alike. ONLy this ancient traditional shamanic voodoo cure will PROTEC you against the mains dream-media and Richard Branson’s Spamdemic 666 – the FAKE Virgin flu varian spread by high speed 5G fibre broadband algae rhythms. 


FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS EXACTLY

During a full moon, take one Haitian shrunken head and and attach it to a stout mallet handle. Pluck a single hair from one of your armpits and marinade for 24 hours in a mixture of vodka, lark sperm and egg yolk. Meanwhile take a nine-inch galvanised nail and hammer it firmly into the brow of your shrunken head, leaving approximately 2cms protruding. Stir the marinade and drink, making sure you swallow the armpit hair. Wait 5 minutes, then, grasping the mallet handle firmly, sing this defiant song using the nail on your shrunken head to beat out a rhythm allegro ma non troppo on a hardback copy of Ozzy Osbourne’s autobiography To Be Honest, I Can’t Really Remember…

You put your bull-shit in 

your bat-shit out

in-out, in-out

shake it all about

Do the Hoaxy-Coaxy

’til we’re all dead, 

bone-head

That’s what its all about

As you dance around singing the chorus – Oh, Hoaxy Coaxy Coaxy – grab the nearest person around the waist. Encourage others to join you and dance like dervishes until you become one big ecstatic, undulating snake. Within hours any trace of the non-existent virus will be gone! 

THEY SHOOT HORSE DON’T THEY? (AND DICE)

As the betting industry emerges from the Covid shadows like a pack of hungry jackals,  the commercial radio networks are barking like seals about the coming 2021 Cheltenham Festival. There will be no public attendance, but lookout for a torrent of oxymoronic ads encouraging you to “bet responsibly.” 

In March 2020, as Italy was locking down, the four-day gambling event went ahead, contributing hugely to the lockdown mess we are now in. Despite international warnings, at least 60,000 punters rammed themselves up against each other in order to parade their disposable wealth.
“Damned if this timeless paradise of horse-iness is going to be thrown off course by some poxy little global pandemic,” quoth The Irish Times