Searingly silly and satirical, this is what happens when a former Brass Eye sketch writer lets rip about politics and power.
Unicef vs Sunny Delite
When you buy your child £3.99-worth of Sunny Delite, you get only 2% juice, artificial sweeteners, corn syrup and advertised benefits including “chuggability”. But at least it all goes to the kid. Sunny Delite doesn’t use semi-pornographic images of children to bully us into putting money in Change for Good envelopes when its own employees are in business class sucking warm macadamias. The UN even flew children of its staff business class on the money we sent to help kids. These are the children your money helped.
The UN is routinely implicated in grand-scale theft, incompetence and failure to protect the children it’s mandated and paid to. If your Sunny Delite doesn’t smell right, there’s a freephone number to call. Fuck there is with Unicef: the UN has probably already promoted the person responsible for the smell to an advisory post in Geneva in return for burying an internal report about the smell. When a Welsh four-year-old girl was turned orange by the un-fruit beverage, Sunny Delite may have blamed the child, but at least it didn’t claim it was empowering her.
The International Criminal Court vs A penny glued to the pavement
You’re a world leader. Your day’s going great. You’ve paid yourselves some of the highest wages in the world and have strangely mislaid one third of the annual public budget intended for hospitals and schools and stuff. It’s all dandy, apart from some pesky court wanging on about you turning up to face charges over some little matter of men with machetes getting paid to mess up an election and lock 200 women and children in a church and set fire to it. Or any one of the charges faced by chaps like Kenya’s President Uhuru Kenyatta or Sudan’s President Omar al-Bashir, who bombed thousands of villagers to charcoal.
No problem! In the time it’s taken the world’s most sabotaged justice system to get you to the dock, key witnesses have “disappeared”. Now the ICC says they don’t have a case. Fuck me, that’s a relief. Back to the nicking! The British public just pumped in another £134 million, a nice slice straight into your coffers, the coffer keys must be around somewhere… hang on, what’s that shiny thing out there on the tarmac? MINE!!! If anyone really wanted to get their hands on Kenyatta and co, all they’d need is Superglue and some small change.
Boris Johnson vs A giant angora rabbit
Admittedly Boris Johnson has never reported poo block after accidentally eating his own hair, or had to be fed papaya to break down the great intestinal furbergs blocking his bumhole. But the Giant Angora Rabbit doesn’t ban alcohol on public transport, file £99.50 taxi receipts for a three-mile cab journey or shag around. Nor might it have to be ‘hand mated’ due to lack of sexual interest… or simply not being able to find it.
David Cameron vs Ron Jeremy’s penis
Ron Jeremy’s penis never went to Eton, it went to teacher training college, because Ron Jeremy actually was a teacher, while David Cameron just fucks them. Little RJ is popular the world over; the British Prime Minister can’t even go to Russia without getting shat on by his host. Ron Jeremy’s penis is recognised as one of the hardest working in its field; Cameron took four summer holidays last year. Ron Jeremy’s penis tweets. So does David Cameron. I am more convinced the penis writes its own tweets.
The United Nations, the US Army, the Ugandan People’s Defense Force, the Forces Armées de la République du Congo, the Forces Armées Centrafricaines (FACA) vs One elderly paedophile disc jockey
If you’re one of the 30-70,000 children kidnapped by Joseph Kony, you won’t be surprised to hear that billions of dollars in aid (that also buys nice villas), arsenals of brand new weaponry (that also suppress popular uprisings) and 40,000 soldiers in the Ugandan army alone (which also operated illegal mines in the Congo) haven’t been able to find you.
So who would find the children? Who could we rely on to actually find some fucking kids for a change? The answer is right before our eyes. And unlike the tax-free-salaries-cash-per-diem-accommodation-allowance UN and the other useless FACAs, paedos don’t do it for money. They’ll do it for love.
Charles Saatchi vs The poo-eating pug
This pug has accepted his disgrace and didn’t spend Christmas on a superyacht with Trinny Woodall boasting about slumming it. Could the pug find the next Damien Hirst? Who cares? While it might have ingested its own excrement, the pug is cute. It might barely be able to breathe through its nose but it never accused anyone else of having a drug problem.
David Beckham for H&M vs The naked mole rat
The naked mole rat has built an internet career out of looking like a dick. David Beckham approved those calendar photos.
The Royal Family vs Crème de la Mer
One of them does fuck all and costs a fortune. But at least Crème de la Mer doesn’t bill the tax payer.
Jane Bussmann has written for South Park, Brass Eye and Smack the Pony. She is the author of Sunday Times ‘Pick of The Week’, The Worst Date Ever or How it Took a Comedy Writer to Expose Africa’s Secret War.