The Book of Jez 2. Jeremy Corbyn slays the Tory dragons.

2. The prophet Jez warned his acolytes. “Let there be no personalised attacks against the false prophets Burnham and Cooper nor the dark eyed witch Kendall nor their misguided revisionist supporters.” His followers murmured their agreement and they launched fresh attacks against their opponents on the Twit message boards. Jez travelled far and wide, wearing a shirt from the bargain rail at the Oxfam shop, a tweed jacket from rejected donations at the Sue Ryder store and open sandals which allowed the unfettered odour of his toe-juice to waft over his followers. The followers of Jez, and there were many, were beguiled by his simple unaffected manner and his unadorned appearance. He spoke the honest truth of a mind freed from the conventions of economic rigour, arithmetic or sanity. What was it to Jez if the sums didn’t add up? That was a mere detail, a weapon of distraction used by the Tories to confuse the working class, especially those who had never experienced the shock of a day’s work in their lives. Jez had a cunning plan to deal with these trifling objections. He would force the Bank of England to print money, to be distributed among the poor and worthy causes. If the Governor wasn’t keen on following this loony diktat he would be booted out and replaced with a compliant stooge who would do as he was told. It would be business as usual. The government would serve the interests of those who put it in office and to hell with the rest, just like the Tories. Simple. The Tories thundered and laid fresh charges against the followers of Jez. They must end their work-shy ways or face terrible retribution. The serpent-tongued prince IDS launched a new initiative, the Privatised Inquisition, Investigation Service, P.I.S.S., to spread terror among the proles. IDS flashed a cunning smile and warned there would no mercy for those who failed to cooperate with the inquisitors. There would be political re-education for misguided registered supporters in special camps, known as “academies”. The inquisitors would seek out every work-shy layabout and malingerer, watching daytime repeats of Antiques Roadshow in bed, while hardworking Tories were at their desks swindling millions in Libor fixes and PFI scams. The sick would rise up and work or they would lose their disability benefits and those who failed to understand could do the decent thing and take an overdose of painkillers to end their miserable days skiving off the public purse. They had to be taught they had no God-given right to live at the taxpayers expense. God gave that right to the Tories years ago and it was rightfully theirs, forever. A special taskforce would penetrate the deepest parts of enemy territory where heretical Benefitism held sway over the population. Tory Taliban would spread among them, dragging the sick out of bed, forcing them to into zero hours work camps at Tesco, Morrisons and Burger King. Unbelievers who refused to convert would be punished. Those who no longer needed an extra bedroom would move to smaller accommodation, if they could find it. A safety net would be provided in the form of cardboard boxes, available first-come, first-served, from the skip behind Asda for those in need of shelter.


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