Help Us To Save Nigel Farage

Lord Mustard Pants Of Thanet - still smiling despite becoming an endangered species.

Lord Mustard Pants Of Thanet – still smiling despite becoming an endangered species.

Having heard that Nigel Farage has received death threats from anonymous sources and that he can’t go out in public without fearing for his personal safety we’ve decided to take the bull by the horns and we’ve come up with a rather rollicking good plan to keep the sainted Lord Nigel alive and safe. But we need YOUR help.

We propose to commission a ten foot square steel cube with twelve inch thick walls and a big feeding tube attached and then put Nigel in it and bury it two hundred feet deep in Death Valley in his beloved USA, where he’ll be completely untouchable and safe from all the lunatics who wish him harm and threaten to loosen the wheel nuts on his car and suchlike.

Above ground we’ll install a pod containing a dozen highly trained SAS men to guard the feed tube and send Lord Nigel copious quantities of John Bull best bitter, Benson and Hedges, Pringles, salsa dip and regular copies of the DAILY EXPRESS so he can bask in the hero worship of his sycophantic fan base.

We reckon it’ll cost about £3 million but it’ll be money well spent if it keeps Nigel safe, and here’s where you come in…

Send us your donation now, the greater the sum the more it’ll make Saint Nigel safe from harm.

If you’d rather contribute towards maintaining Lord Nigel’s sartorial elegance you can contribute to our kit appeal, which may well keep the Good Lord Nigel in mustard coloured corduroy trousers, tasselled loafers, crombie coats (with velvet collars of course) and hacking jackets.

Send in YOUR donation NOW to KEEP Saint Nigel safe this Christmas and for years to come.

**UPDATE** We hadn’t factored into the financial costing a toilet facility, so PLEASE donate an extra £100 so that King Nigel can have a safe place to meditate.

After all – the last thing we’d want would be for Father Nigel to drown in his own effluence.

That would just be wrong.

Cafe Spike

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Derek Philpott – Letter To Mr Lukather Out Of Toto

Down The Market Somewhere In Africa

Down The Market Somewhere In Africa

Dear Mr. Lukather

Re: Africa

My wife Jean and I used to be be avid enthusiasts of The Jerry Springer Show before it became a WWF offshoot. Our favourite part was always when the bald-headed gentleman was called upon to intervene after a difference of opinion between two guests that lived in caravans.

As well-honed as you all appear in the excellent ‘promotional video’ that accompanies your classic world’s second-largest continent tribute, I hope you will forgive my questioning that seperating you from another person is ”nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do”. Firstly, as previously implied, a burly security guard and several cronies at most should be more than sufficient to enforce such a detachment, besides which I am struggling to fathom how such a multitude of draggers could gain sufficient proximity to complete the division, unless of course it is to be achieved by them all puling on a very long rope in a straight line.

On an unrelated matter, I am rather puzzled that the swivelling of a senior citizen could in any way be interpreted as “Hurry boy, it’s waiting there for you”, and yet you state that an old man turned to you ”as if to say” this very statement

I myself am a pensioner and just the other day had to swerve slightly to avoid some unbagged dog mess on the pedestrianised section of Old Christchurch Road, very nearly causing me to lose my balance. I would be very surprised if my canine excrement lurch caused any of the sniggering schoolchildren in attendance to suddenly interpret it as sign language that they should make haste on the basis that they are being expected by a very large landmass.

As much as we admire your splendid mastering of the electric guitar, Mr. Lukather, we fear that your body linguistic skills may be slightly lacking

Yours

Derek Philpott

More letters @ www.wilfturnbull.co.uk

In the meantime – enjoy this one from the BBC.

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