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I ordered a jacket potato with cheese and beans.
This Spanish or Polish bird, who’s serving me, goes, “Cheese or beans first?”
Cheese or beans first! Cheese or beans first! I could have swung for her. Felt like singing ‘Jerusalem’. But I didn’t, I just said, “Britain First.”
That shut her up
Because now we’ve taken back control, I have to ask: Who’s next? The way I’m feeling right now, I could brick a mosque, gay pub, Bella Italia and build a giant, beautiful wall across Northern Ireland to keep the EU out. And I’d make them pay for it.
Anything. Anything to protect this royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle, this earth of Shakespeare, the Beatles, Dad’s Army. This Ultra Great Britain never never never never shall be slaves.
Speaking of which, the nanny wants a raise. The cheek. I told her, I said as much, I said, “You’re lucky to have a job.” Am I being unreasonable but – hello – isn’t the minimum wage now a living wage?
Tell you who I’d always give a raise. HRH. God save her, stuck on a boat in the pissing rain. (Sounds like elder abuse.) With a crown, jewels and an 18-foot velvet train, opening a parliament, filled with people like us, sent a clear message: We won’t put up with foreigners, foreign as muck, thieving our jobs, our STDs, our houses, our C of E and our history of openness, tolerance, fairness and democracy.
The heart! The very lion’s heart of Team UGB with its island race of all-white straight indigenous hatred facing the big question of its day:
Cheese or beans first?
Cover by Sam de Groot and me. With thanks to Sam, Will and Alex.