Murdoch Sticks Poisoned Tuppence Into Massive New Shitstorm

Bespectacled scrotum, Rupert Murdoch, has had the astonishing temerity to call for an independent inquiry into the latest government Cash-For-Access scandal without even noticing the absolutely massive irony, it emerged yesterday.

Murdoch:  Dare you say his name three times?

Mr Murdoch posted his thoughts on the breaking scandal on social networking site, Twitter:

"Of course there must be a full independent inquiry on both sides. In great detail, and with consequences. Trust must be established." 

Seemingly oblivious to the startling hypocrisy of this statement, the hellbound, antipodean necromancer then continued:  "Trust built little by little, and then lost, is almost impossible to recover." 
As journalists around the world pissed themselves laughing and screamed "What the actual fuck?" at the top of their voices, Prime Minister and noted scoffer, David Cameron was in hiding, fearing a relentless revenge campaign from Murdoch as payback for the Leveson inquiry.
A Downing Street spokesman released a statement from Mr Cameron today, in which the PM blubberingly begs Mr Murdoch for his life and implores the dough-faced predator's minions not to harm his pretty face:

"Not the face, Wupert!  Please God!  Not the face!"  He blubbered.

"Young Man, there's a place you can go....."

Further details of Murdoch's masterplan for revenge remain sketchy, but leading political commentators believe this could be the tip of a very large, arse-related iceberg.  FPWK Revenge correspondent, John-Wayne Bobbitt, reckons Cameron could be in for a slow, painful lesson in not fucking around with Rupert Murdoch:

"Usually Rupert will make you watch them work on your missus.  That lasts four to five hours.  Most are numb after that much screaming.  Then there is a short fag break before he brings out the gimp.  It starts at dawn with a force-fed breakfast of dog shit and coal and it can take an agonising twelve hours before the photos of your chafed, reddened and violated posterior make it onto the internet.  But make it there they will."

Public opinion on whether Mr Cameron deserves his inescapable fate was fairly one-sided;  just 4% of those interviewed thought that his arse should be spared, with an alarming 64% vowing to view the images of the Prime Minister's bloodied, distended rectum as soon as they appear online. 

Labour leader, Ed Miliband, whose father of course, was a massive, raving Marxist, called for Murdoch to remain focused:  "This is a despicable liberty by the tories, made worse because Mr Murdoch feels so aggrieved by it, which must mean that it is a very naughty thing indeed.  I stand shoulder to shoulder with Mr Murdoch in demanding the Prime Minister's immediate resignation and submission to anal torture."

Blood Oranges:  A timeless metaphor.

Cameron's whereabouts remain unknown as we go to press here, but a leaked Downing Street memo suggests he has a table booked at The Ivy this evening for dinner with a leading London oncologist to discuss post-rape corrective surgery.  Who will be donating what to who remains unclear. 

This is not the first time a Prime Minister has been of the run for his anal virginity;  It is believed that Margaret Thatcher narrowly escaped a reaming at the hands of Arthur Scargill, and as recently as 2001, Tony Blair found himself with a choice of going to war in Iraq or having a group of US marines run him through in the back of a Bradley tank. 
Although Cameron's ringpiece remains intact tonight, it is surely only a matter of time before it looks like the flag of Japan, as Murdoch closes in on his man, and from there, his arse.

Johnny Plantpot
FPWK

"It's not our fault", claim sexy MPs

Fresh light was thrown on decades of sexual misdemeanours, affairs and sleazy antics in Parliament this morning when Labour MP Paul Flynn revealed details of his new book to the Guardian.

 The aforementioned Paul Flynn.
Apologies to anybody who is driven to the point of sexual frenzy by looking at this image.

In his new coffee table tome, "How To Be A Backbencher", Flynn provides advice for colleagues on how to keep it in their pants at work, during office hours, whilst drawing a wage at the public's expense. Seriously, he did, it's on the BBC here.

As it transpires, far from being a gang of self serving, egotistical maniacs no more well equipped for power than they are for nuclear thermodynamics, all Members of Parliament are inherently sexually attractive. If you stood in a room with one for five minutes you would find yourself getting your kit off and allowing yourself to be subjugated into performing whatever depraved act their hearts desired, almost like you'd been hypnotised by the sheer whiff of sexual magnetism emanating from their every pore.

One victim, who wishes not to be named, recounts a meeting with Hazel Blears last summer. "I only went in there to complain about me bins not being collected", complains the 19 year old plumber, "but before I knew it I was paggering her over her contituency table and thumbing her up the wrong'un at the same time. It was like she was lactating sheer animal passion across her desk to me. I don't know what came over me - although I do know what came over her."

Barack Obama himself falls victim
to the aura of David Cameron

This revelation, coupled with the recent story that Conservative MP Louise Mensch got monged off her tits whilst out clubbing with violinist and notorious wreck head Nigel Kennedy in a nightclub (also not made up) suggests that far from being criminally incompetent, MPs are struggling to balance their duties against the fact that they're constantly on the comedown and have to take regular cold showers to avoid rutting each other like angry bears.

Louise Mensch - Not bad, actually

The level of hedonism inside Parliament first came to light during the previous Labour Government, but the issue wasn't addressed as the public failed to understand that Tony Blair's "sexing up" of the Iraq war dossier was in fact literal, rather than metaphorical. Peter Mandelson, Blair's (also literal) right hand man, recalls the tale.



"We were in discussion about whether or not to invade when all the sexy language got the better of us. All that talk about penetration, and bombing, and being liberated made us all quite hot under the collar. Before we knew it, the whole meeting turned into a game of limp biscuit directed at the dossier itself. It was completely illegible by the time we were done, so when it came to a vote, nobody had any access to the facts. We had to go on instinct alone and by that point we were down to primal bloodlust."

Douglas Hogg, the Tory MP who memorably claimed expenses from the public to have his moat cleaned, claims the new findings justify his actions.

"It's essential for me to have a moat to keep the great unwashed out", he protested. "I used to go without but if the womenfolk of the town could run straight up to my front door, they would kick it down in the dead of night, drag me out of my bed and molest me to within an inch of my life. You proles may think it's all down to greed and privilege, but when you're as sexy as we are, you need to protect yourself. You try sitting in a transport planning debate for six hours when your old chap is chafed as raw as botchulism. It's intolerable. And if... oh my God, have you seen what Tessa Jowell is wearing today?"

"I simply must go and have her, I'm already wet at the tip".

Your humble correspondent then had to terminate the interview in order to vomit.

Rob van Riot
FPWK