WE LOVE YOU DARLING

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March 25th 2010

Many people throughout Britain are recovering from last night's celebrations after spending the evening thanking the little baby Jesus for giving us Alistair Darling and his battered, red box.


"In here is my abacus. And my lunch. And my Nintendo DS Lite. In pink."
In some places 'Budget Parties' are still in full swing, with drunken people rutting like bastards in pools of their own champagne. Most estimates estimate that 'For He's a Jolly Good Fellow' was sung an estimated 144,000,008 times last night, estimatedly. The Royal Institute of Names has predicted that in upcoming months many mothers will name their brand new little pink bags of sick 'Alistair' even if they're girls.

Stinky Ponky spoke with some of the revellers in Watford last night.

Dave Watt, a Badger Farmer from Wales told us "If the damn Pope doesn't make him a saint when he comes to excommunicate the gays in September I for one will do my level best to shit in every Catholic church in the country - and I won't use the toilet either! My confession will be 'Forgive me Father, I've just taken a crap in your confessional.' I mean, petrol will only rise by 1p three times, instead of raising it by 3p. Utter. Fucking. Genius. It's so simple when you think about it!

"Ok, so he's put £117.68 on a pint of scrumpy, but let's face it, who the fuck drinks cider anway? I'll tell you who; wankers. And Darling knows that, which is why he's stung them - because he's one of the good guys. Well, you can keep your wanky, mega-expensive cider, you wankers. I'll stick to my Magners, thank you very much. Actually, I might buy a couple of pints of Strongbow and see if I can get my motor to run off it, because it's still cheaper than petrol."

Harry Webb, a retired Nun said "It was getting pretty bleak out there, wasn't it? All the money was drying up, or melting or something. I was beginning to think that the time had come to drown myself in a bucket of piss. And so it was an immense relief when Darling told us he'd been doing the right thing all along, because I'd been labouring under the misapprehension that he didn't have a fucking scooby what he was doing and that he'd basically spent the last two years sodomising me. What a silly twat I've been. I feel much better now Mr Darling has explained how money works again. He does it every year and it just makes the whole thing worthwhile.

"The only thing that confuses me is why it will cost £250,000 for a stamp."


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