For the Economy

Crows circle. Smut-flecked blusters carry the screams. Human flesh rises in goose-pimple salute. I clutch my electrical item and join the queue.

For a time, the great bonfire retches smoke, obscuring its innards though not their hungry crackle. The wind off North Ghoul Heath sends fumes at a ground-hugging gallop into the wall of spectators who serenade them with ugly coughs. Someone is chanting a litany of big numbers. Rattlesnake tambourine. A child is sobbing. An old man makes vague noises of atonement into the gale.

I’m here with Ghoul Ordinary People’s Club who have taken matters into their own hands. Each of us has bought a trinket to help a small business. They’re the stuff of impulse buys, or would have been in happier times. Hundreds flock in festive solemnity across the fields to the fire, everyone bearing a not-particularly-wanted good or service. As we near the flames at last, a great murmur shakes the crowd. We shield our faces from the intense heat and hurl our chosen tribute into the heart of the blaze with cries of “for the economy!” and “sorry I borrowed!” and “sorry I saved!”

I bid adieu to my electrical item. If this goes on much longer, I think I may have to blag a second job, or extend my scrimping into a legal grey area.

Then we limp back across the heath, secure in the knowledge that we did our bit. The salty stench of vaporised tears and trifles follows us home.

We’re All in this Together: Rich Men

(Recommended response.)

In a move sure to endear them, rich men today have declared common cause with you lot.

“We’re all in this mess together,” rich men announced. “Yes, there will be pain, but--in a way--we’ll all be feeling it. Certainly at some level it will register.”

While acknowledging that you may not be best pleased with having to fund their privilege, the rich men suggested you direct your anger elsewhere.

“Nobody wants to inflict pain,” said the rich men. “That is what we have police for.”

PM Silent over Leak of Future ‘Gaffes List’

(Britain’s warlike prowess.)

No word yet from shy British Prime Minister, Mr. X (as the ‘Press’ have dubbed this enigmatic gent) following Saturday’s leak in the Mail-on-Sunday of up to twenty future gaffes and slip-ups.

The internationally damaging faux pas were scheduled to be made over the next ten years at venues ranging from meetings with important--but excitable--allies, to keynote addresses.

Fortunately for the reticent PM, his unintended honesty has gone largely unseen, owing to the small circulation of these papers among Britons, who find their pettiness off-putting. But the straight-talking is said to include likening an Israeli prison camp to a Prison Camp, and being accidentally realistic about Britain’s warlike prowess.

A high-ranking source, Lord Caramadoc, who did not wish to be named, said, “Obviously these off-the-cuff remarks will need rethinking now.”

But he was quick to assure would-be critics that new blunders would be found in time.