Nigel Farage’s Gypsy Grandmother Put A Curse On The England Football Team

This might be her - it might not. Who knows?

This might be her – it might not. Who knows?

This has got to be our weirdest story of the week, but we are assured by a bloke down the pub that it’s all true.

It appears that in 1966 Nigel Farage’s gypsy grandmother was having an affair with a German potter named Otto; contemporaries say (apparently) that she was thoroughly smitten, and that the feeling was reciprocal.

Otto was a great football fan and a fanatical follower of the German national team, and apparently he freaked out when the Russian linesman awarded a goal for Geoff Hurst’s off the crossbar shot during extra time which was England’s third and Hurst’s second of the day.

Otto went mad, shrieking and wailing until Hurst smashed the decisive fourth goal past Tilkowski for his hat trick, at which point Otto commenced smashing up the gypsy caravan which the couple called home.

In response, Nigel Farage’s gypsy grandmother laid a curse on the England football team which endures to this day, a curse which she steadfastly refuses to lift – even when approached by a tearful Glen Hoddle.

Not only that – she further cursed England by inflicting young Nigel on us – saying that he’s a bit like Damian out of The Omen and that he’ll destroy England forever.

Of course we can’t swear that it’s true, but it does make for interesting reading if you’ve nothing better to do.

Martin Shuttlecock


The Tears Of A Clown – Brexit Voter Feels Conned

Hands up all those who think I'm an utter cunt...I'll get me coat...

Hands up all those who think I’m an utter cunt…I’ll get me coat…

A prominent circus clown who voted to leave the EU has admitted that he’s been conned after being spoon-fed gallons of absolute hogwash by the likes of Boris Johnson, Nigel Farage, Iain Duncan Smith and Michael Gove. Benny Bukkake from Essex expressed his utter disgust with prominent Brexiteers on the Big Johnson Show on Radio Rayleigh this morning. [Read more…]


Goodbye My England

Are we mental?

Are we mental?

If there’s one thing that the EU referendum has taught me, it’s that the England, the Britain I know and love is lost. Waking up and going to work on a beautiful summer morning something fundamentally changed. We elected democratically to leave the European Union – there’s no arguing with the democratic process – the collective will of the people should always be respected.

Our Prime Minister resigned – no sad loss in my book because Mr Cameron is the worst Prime Minister ever and has been a monumental flop, along with his cohorts, Gideon Osborne and Michael Gove – but on a broader scale it’s a Shakespearean tragedy. Good riddance to Cameron, Osborne and their ilk.

But there will be a price to pay. As a net contributor to the EU, the remaining countries aren’t going to take this lying down. There will be repercussions. Whether it will all be storm in a teacup or whether it will be a cataclysmic event remains to be seen.

Whatever – the England and Britain that I’ve always loved and felt proud of has become a significantly different animal. We aren’t a united country any more. Like America we’ve become obsessed by greed and personal advancement and to hell with others.

That isn’t my England. My England and my ancestors fought for freedom and equality. Our ancestors laid down their lives so we can live free, and we’ve kicked them square in the face by turning on their sacrifices.

Is this what those people died for? A self obsessed racist xenophobic nation who detest the victims of war and conflict that we were instrumental in creating?

Pull up the ladder, I’m all right Jack.

That isn’t my England.

I’ll be applying for my Irish citizenship and leaving this nest of vipers.

I’m out of here.

You can have your Boris Johnson and your Nigel Farage and your consecutive Conservative governments who will – as they are doing at this moment – strip you of your humanity and dignity.

It’s game over for England. The Brexiters have their wish and they don’t seem to have a clue how to deal with it.

Where will it all end?

I’m not planning on seeing where it goes. I loved my England, my Britain, loved it with all my heart, but no more.

Take it – you’re welcome to whatever’s left.

Martin Shuttlecock for Cafe Spike


Stuff Your Referendum – Says Local Man

A picture of a woman wearing a bikini top inserted for no immediately obvious reason.

A picture of a woman wearing a bikini top inserted for no immediately obvious reason.

Local man and part-time website editor Martin Shuttlecock told both Brexit and Remain campaigners to: “Stuff your referendum up your khyber.”

The astonishing outburst occurred as canvassers simultaneously turned up at Shuttlecock’s front door brandishing leaflets and all manner of scare stories and worst case scenarios .

“I’m not interested in any of it any more,” he said later. “I’m damn well sick to the back teeth of the lot of it. It doesn’t matter which way you vote because you just can’t win. Cameron and Osborne spearheading the remain camp and Boris, Farage and Duncan Smith doing the Brexit thing…

“They’re all lying sadistic butchers. How can anyone believe any of them?

“It’s like being offered a choice between hanging and the electric chair.

“I won’t even bother to vote – I’m just going to get a few beers in instead and binge-watch a box set of ‘Walking Dead’ to cheer myself up.”

The referendum will be held on 23rd June.

UKIP supporters will self destruct as soon as the result is announced.

Paddy Berzinski


Nigel Farage is a fetishist who wears his wife’s lingerie

Nigel Farage possibly demonstrating that feeling you get when your bellend gets snagged in the gusset of the wife's panties.

Nigel Farage possibly demonstrating that feeling you get when your bellend gets snagged in the gusset of the wife’s panties.

He may look like a bullfrog with his big mouth and his patronisingly idiotic grin but there’s more to UKIP leader Nigel Farage than meets the eye, for underneath those daft suits, velvet collared crombie coats and mustard coloured corduroy trousers (hence the term “Mustard Pants”) Nigel Farage hides a dirty secret.

For underneath that thin veneer of city gent respectability, Nigel Farage is wearing his wife’s knickers, suspender belt and black fishnet stockings.

So says Theresa Florentine, a freelance journalist from Aston, who claims Farage admitted his kinky secret during a drinking binge in a Brussels gay bar, just a stone’s throw away from the EU Headquarters where Farage – who claims to understand the fishing business – can hardly ever be arsed to attend policy setting meetings on behalf of the brave members of Britain’s fishing fleet.

When pressed further, Ms Florentine stated categorically that it was “without any shadow of a doubt” Nigel Farage who made the stunning confession.

“He was as pissed as a fart and he just blurted it out,” she said. “At least I think it was Nigel Farage – it could have been anybody really because I was a bit plastered myslef – but sod it. There’s been so much scaremongering and bullshit flying around over this referendum bollocks that I thought the British public deserve to know what Nigel Farage is really like. If it wasn’t him I apologise unreservedly, but let’s face it – the man’s a cunt anyway. All he ever does is prey on people’s fears by demonising migrants. Where’s your tax return then Nigel, you mustard panted prick? Eh? Eh?”

At which point we terminated the interview as Ms Florentine collapsed in a heap and banged her head on a table.

Cafe Spike – bringing you the true face of this bollocks referendum.

Whose round is it?

More as we get it.



I wiped my arse on a Brexit leaflet and now it’s gone septic

Picture posed by a model who doesn't have a septic ringpiece. Probably.

Picture posed by a model who doesn’t have a septic ringpiece. Probably.

Brexit campaigners have been accused of dirty tricks and underhandedness after a remain campaigner found out that his ringpiece had turned septic after wiping his backside on a Brexit leaflet. Connor Sullivan, a beer taster from Blackburn complained that Brexiteers had deliberately contaminated their leaflets with bacteria designed to turn arses septic should the leaflets be used as toilet paper.

“I know they’re fanatics,” Sullivan said. “But I honestly couldn’t believe they’d stoop as low as this. I’d hardly even flushed the toilet before my brown eye started itching furiously. It got worse as the night wore on and by morning I was in agony and my arse was oozing. It wasn’t pleasant.”

Realising that he was facing a serious situation, Sullivan took himself off to the A&E Unit at Blackburn Royal Infirmary where doctors confirmed that he did indeed have a septic arse.

“We prescribed antibiotics,” a doctor who insisted on anonymity told us. “He’ll be in some distress for a while but he should be back to normal within a few hours. Providing of course he takes the full course of tablets.”

A leading Brexit campaigner denied any allegations of wrongdoing.

“Mr Sullivan’s claims are completely without foundation,” she told us. “We didn’t contaminate anything – deliberately or otherwise. The reality is more likely that he rived furiously at his own arsehole with dirty fingernails causing it to become infected. These remainians are absolute nutters. I even heard yesterday that a leading remainian put his old chap in a dead pig’s head. They’re pretty disgusting people really, all drug addicts and sexual deviants.”

More as we get it.

A Cafe Spike report.


Nigel Farage Gives Rousing Speech To The Converted



UKIP leader Nigel Farage is reported to have delivered a rousing speech to a wildly enthusiastic group of Dutch anti-EU converts in the back room of a pub.

Reports are still coming through as to exactly what he said, but seasoned Nigel watchers appear to be suggesting that the content probably involved a great deal of anti-EU rhetoric and a fearsome rant about tsunamis of refugees approaching biblical proportions coming over here to steal our jobs and rape our womenfolk.

It’s not known if Mr Farage encountered and was made to feel uncomfortable by hordes of alien invaders who don’t speak English on the local metro system, but without doubt the Daily Express website will keep us up to speed.

“What a waste of time that was,” said expat John Longworth. “It was just the same old recycled guff from the clapped out old windbag, but it was nice to see he was wearing the mustard coloured corduroy pants again. Having said that, it was more like a Britain First meeting in the back room of an Essex pub than a Nuremburg rally type of thing.

PB for Cafe Spike.


If You Vote To Remain In The EU You’ll All Die

The Flag Of DOOM!

The Flag Of DOOM!

The in/out referendum scaremongering reached a whole new level today after a man in a Preston pub announced to other customers that if they vote to stay in the EU they’ll all die.

“I stand by every word,” said 72 year old Tommy Oddment. “If we stay in the EU the sky will fall in and we’ll probably get struck by a comet. It’s that serious I’m afraid. Frankly the EU is responsible for everything bad that ever happened anywhere, including the big bang, and it’ll only get worse. If we don’t vote leave we face the apocalypse, the end of days. We’ll all die and become extinct and nobody will ever know we were here.”

In opposition, one man argued that if the world is going to end then it won’t really matter how anybody votes in the referendum because we’ll all be dead anyway.

“We can survive if we have control of our borders and our own sovereignty,” Mr Oddment argued. “We’ll be able to get rid of all the foreigners and introduce an Australian style points system. It’s the only way.”

“But if what you say is true,” the opposition man said. “We’ll all be dead. So how does that work?”

“Oh fuck off,” Mr Oddment grumbled, retreating to a corner table and lighting his pipe.

More as we get it.


Cameron Stitched Up Like A Kipper As Boris Backs Brexit

Hey Up Lads - The Daggers Are Out

Hey Up Lads – The Daggers Are Out

With Boris Johnson and Iain Duncan Smith electing to go against the Prime Minister by backing a Brexit from the European Union, the question arises: Is this really all about Europe or is it another Conservative power play?

Even among his own hardcore supporters David Cameron is widely regarded as the worst Prime Minister in history, so it’s ironic that two of his high profile political “allies” are taking advantage of the opportunity to do to him what he allegedly did to that pig’s head.

It’s hard to sympathise with the fat faced idiot, so we aren’t even going to try. We’re just going to sit back and enjoy the fireworks as these jumped-up public school buffoons self-destruct and their sadistic party descends into chaos and farce. What’s annoying about this is that the people governing us are so self-absorbed and egotistical that they’re actually hijacking the single most important test of public opinion in decades – the great EU debate, in order to play their stupid games.

That fact alone speaks volumes about our so-called leaders.

Were it not so important it would be hysterically funny.

On the one hand we have an abject failure of a Prime Minister and his equally odious failed Chancellor advising us to remain in the EU, whilst on the other hand you have a failed Minister for Work and Pensions who has mercilessly pummelled the sick and the disadvantaged pairing up with the political caricature that is Boris “Born In The USA” Johnson. (Apologies to the Springsteen chap.)

And that’s before we even get to the comedy circus that sees the alliance of Nigel Farage and George Galloway.

“Infamy! Infamy! They’ve all got it in for me!” – The Carry On film line seems to sum up Cameron’s predicament perfectly.

We can only hope that every bastard one of them pushes the self destruct button, thus allowing somebody to gain power who actually knows what they’re doing.

Martin Shuttlecock for Cafe Spike. (We have a Facebook page but not many people like us. We don’t mind – we just do what we do.)


Dear Scotland – An open letter from Cafe Spike

Dear Scotland,

Oh No! They're Onto Us!

Oh No! They’re Onto Us!


Being based in England Café Spike has no intention of trying to influence the Independence vote one way or the other. It’s your decision entirely and being the canny lot you are we have no doubts whatsoever that you will all vote for what’s best for Scotland. However, we do have certain concerns which we would like to see addressed whichever way the vote goes.

If you vote ‘Yes’ and opt for independence there are certain Scottishy things which we hope we will continue to be allowed to enjoy, and some others which we aren’t really all that keen on.


Will we still be okay to wear kilts at weddings and stuff like that or will it only be for proper Scottish people? Quite frankly we like kilts, and sporrans are dead handy for keeping your mobile, baccy tin, lighter, condoms and your wallet in, and the whole outfit looks dead good on the pictures after. Plus it’s good for kicking off conversations with the ladies, who invariably want to know if you’re wearing underpants underneath.


We like haggis. We like it a lot. We hope you won’t start a haggis embargo in the event of a ‘yes’ vote. Same goes for white pudding, shortbread, Scotch eggs, Aberdeen Angus beef, kippers, whisky, salmon and trout. Us lot down south don’t want to lose these things, although we’re not all that bothered about tatties and neeps, so you can keep them.


If it’s a ‘Yes’ vote we sincerely hope that you don’t decide to ban Billy Connolly or Kevin Bridges from making us laugh down here. We like them. The Big Yin might be knocking on a bit these days but he’s a comedy genius and still one of the best in the world. We’re still not sure about Frankie Boyle yet, especially that big ginger beard but he has his moments so we hope you’ll let him out from time to time. We’d prefer it if you keep the Krankies safely under lock and key in Edinburgh Castle or a similar secure environment, although Barlinnie may be a little harsh on your part.

The Fitbaw

When Rangers eventually get back into the SPL it would be nice of you to let us watch the Auld Firm games on the telly down here. It’s nice to see two teams taking the beautiful game seriously and in previous encounters there’s been some spectacular fighting among the fans, both on and off the park. It would also be interesting to see which flags the fans would favour after a ‘Yes’ vote because obviously the Union Jack would be redundant, as would the Irish flag. Maybe that one hasn’t really been thought through yet, but we’re confident that there will be contingency plans in place.

More Fitbaw (We like Fitbaw)

When your fitbaw players get dead good, as has happened in the past with the likes of Denis Law, Jim Baxter, Paddy Crerand, Kenny Dalglish, Joe Jordan, Charlie Cooke, Charlie Nicholas we’ll have ’em doon here. But not necessarily Gordon McQueen who was a nice enough bloke when he wasn’t having a rush of blood to the heed. When that happened he’d get the ball, put his heed down and run like somebody possessed – frequently over the touchline, up the Stretford end terraces, over the back, and off into Trafford Park. More than once he had to be rescued from the ship canal down by Barton Dock and that was a wee bit embarrassing. Still, it made us laugh. And a laugh is worth a thousand pictures.

Your Scenery

We hope you’ll continue to allow us to enjoy the beautiful scenery of the Highlands and Islands. Don’t go covering it in concrete and putting up stupid buildings shaped like spikes, cheesegraters, walkie-talkies or any of that nonsense. We aren’t all that bothered about Paisley, or Govan or Leith but we like the country bits so we’d rather like to pop up from time to stock up on duty-free fags, booze and baccy, but we’d appreciate it if you’d take steps to control the English toffs who come up there shooting birds and deer when the weather’s nice. Nobody wants to get shot by accident.

Duty Free

Assuming you get independence we hope that you’ll become a duty free tax haven and welcome visitors from the impoverished north of England who want to stock up on cheap booze and baccy, and not impose punitive levels of taxation like those big foreheaded Tory tossers in Westminster do. It’s all well and good when you go taxing drink by the unit if you’re a well heeled Tory billionaire toff who only drinks two glasses of wine with dinner of an evening but it’s fucking crippling when you’re on benefits and buying Stella Artois by the case. Us normal English people hope you newly independent Scots will enter into the spirit of things and get dead sensible about booze and fags. And while you’re at it you could lift that daft smoking ban – pubs have smelt like somebody is cooking really crap food in a toilet since the days when the malodorous whiffs were stifled by tobacco smoke.


To be fair you can keep most of it. It’s probably a psychological thing, but more than one Café Spike staffer was traumatised in childhood by Andy Stewart’s White bastard Heather Club Hogmanay shows. Simple Minds were okay and Fairground Attraction were a bit of a giggle. The Sensational Alex Harvey Band were pretty good, but then Alex snuffed it. We can even live with Midge Ure and the Ultravox thing at a pinch but not the Proclaimers – quite frankly we don’t give a toss about how many hundred miles they walk or where they send their letters from. We’ll have that Ian Roberts chap though, if that’s okay with you. His Sweetlove Butterfly tune defined summer for us. We aren’t all that keen on Susan Boyle either to be honest, but if you’re a bit short we can send you One Direction and Simon Cowbell, although admittedly it’s a pretty crap trade but we shouldn’t have to suffer alone.


According to Kevin Bridges you’ll adopt the Smackaroonie as your official currency. We think that’s a good idea – well done Mr Bridges. You could put Sean Connery on the 50, Billy Connolly on the 20, Alexander Graham Bell on the 10, John Logie Baird on the 5 and Alan Hansen on the 1 Smackaroonie coin in order to scare visitors going to Edinburgh on ghost walks.

Fred The Shred

Banker. You can keep him. You can have all ours too if you like. None of them do anybody any favours. Ever.

Empire Building

If you’re going for independence it’s probably a good idea to adopt an expansionist policy. Build an empire. It worked for the Romans, the British, and the Russians. Empires mean power. You could start with the Norwegians – most of them can’t work fag machines – so they’d be ripe for the picking. Then the English, but only the sensible ones who come from the north of a line drawn across that Godforsaken country between the Wash and the Bristol Channel. Yorkshire’s likely to be a bit of a conundrum but nothing is ever easy. Ireland would be easily persuaded to tag along providing having the craic of a weekend is made compulsory between Tuesdays and Sundays. Most of Europe would probably align themselves too, because they’re generally quite easy going and probably hate Cameron, Clegg and Farage more than you do. Besides – the French haven’t mastered haggis, proper kippers or white pudding yet, and that really bugs them. Once that’s done, the Russians would be easy – a few pints of heavy and a packet of scratchings and Putin would be putty in your hands.

And that’s about it for the moment from us. Suffice to say that if you do go it alone we’ll be right with you in spirit. In fact we’d go even further and suggest that we lop off the crap bits of England, stick all the politicians and the bankers on it and cast it adrift. Although all that hot air would probably accelerate global warming to an intolerable degree.

Thank you Scotland, and in the words of Spike Lee – do the right thing.

Although you might have to rebuild that wall thing to keep us all out. A bit like our American cousins do with Mexico.