This is the first of 13 chapters of a parody written during the 2016 UK Referendum campaign. It has echoes of ‘Dad’s Army’ and ‘Allo, Allo’ and is a purely satirical offering with, I hope, no marked bias, although perceptions of such can’t be ruled out.
I’ve asked Tom to run a few of chapters for two reasons; 1. Because I’m looking for advice on routes to market for the completed volume, and; 2. I desperately need a cartoonist!
Anybody at Free Speech Backlash able to offer advice and help in either of these matters might get in touch with Tom at FSB.
Thanks! I hope it offers a few laughs……
Nanumaga
Life in The Bunker
(Incorporating extracts from Jeremy Corbyn's Secret Diary - Age 96¾)
Chapter 1
As Captain ‘Call-me-Dave’ Cameron surveyed his Remainian forces, now prepared for the decisive "big push" to Brussels which would allow a total and abject surrender to the German Chancellor and her little round friend from Vichy France, Marshall Hollande, he wondered if they were really up for another four months of intense battering from the British Resistance.
As he gazed at Sergeant ‘Mad Dog’ Osborne, stood next to a rather scruffy and bewildered Corporal Corbyn, and that nervous juvenile, Private Farron, whose mother had knitted him a lovely blue scarf with gold stars, he despaired. His orders had been clear, and the German Chancellor was not one to tolerate dissent. "You will mop up the British Resistance by June 23rd and be on parade in Brussels HQ on the 24th, at which time you will surrender yourselves and your arms to General Juncker who will allocate war reparations - 2 Billion Euros to build a couple of airports in Tobermory and Chipping Norton, a flyover on the A689 at Nenthead, and a Fisheries Industry Memorial Museum in Warwick. Take no prisoners and shoot any stragglers."
Latest reports on the British Resistance had worried Cameron. He'd heard that they had a new secret weapon in the form of a disreputable old lefty politician who could turn himself into a cat and infiltrate the most secret installations, spreading uncontrollable paroxysms of mirth, thus debilitating the staunchest of the Remainian forces.
Under the command of the Resistance legend, Captain Nigel "Bonkers" Farage, who had managed to evade capture by the Remainians for some 20 years, this "Cat-person" could cause havoc, and had already become bizarrely popular in enclaves of cat-lovers who seemed immune to the charms of his untrustworthy Corporal Corbyn.
He considered the green poster he'd found young Farron looking at wistfully which announced that the Grassroots had gone over to the British Resistance. This was the last straw! It was he, Captain Cameron who'd colonised the Green voters, taking with him "Grassroots" Clegg and his platoon - he remembered halcyon days in a rose garden which now seemed so very far away. He'd never found the Resistance spy who'd leaked his intemperate remark about sweeping all that ‘green crap’ out. He'd narrowed it down to one of six of his trusted elite storm troopers of the Remainian Guard.
A quick walk round the shell-pocked cellar, which was now his command centre, confirmed his worst fears. The bastards were nowhere to be seen. Private ‘Speccy’ Gove had asked for weekend leave to see his ailing old school master and the rest of them had offered similar feeble excuses to get off leaflet bombing duty. Betrayal stared him in the face.
Now he knew how poor old Major John "Johnnie" Major had felt in the trenches of the Maastricht campaign - the "campaign to end all campaigns", they'd called it. Ha! Well, he could survive this. One big three-month push should do it.
It wasn't that long ago that he'd had his own devastating weapon to deploy. A blond bombshell with the power to neutralise the resistance and bring millions of Resistance supporters over to the Remainian cause. He'd spent days on the phone trying to get hold of the man but got the same bloody message. The echo of the replies still rang, bitterly, in his memory. "Sorry chaps, but the Mayor of London can't take your call at present. Please leave a message offering a swift handover of power and he'll be sure to get back to you......".
He'd spent years perfecting this weapon of mass-persuasion from his early days fagging for it at Eton, and he'd bided his time before unleashing the blond bombshell on the Resistance forces. He'd lost track of the many times his creature had failed in critical public tests, and he'd had to have it sent back to the scientists for re-programming on the three "M“ commands which he'd built into the early prototype - Monogamy, Message and Master - this last being himself, Captain Cameron, the designer of the blond bombshell. And for what? All he'd got last time he'd looked was "Money, Massage and Mistress.".
Captain Boris de Stauffenberg Johnson was playing a dangerous game. Captain Cameron consoled himself by writing an order for some piano wire and composed his thoughts. If they wanted to play the betrayal game, he'd show them a thing or two. He knew how to rewrite history and shelve a few commitments at the expense of principles. He wasn't finished yet!
