During a press conference earlier today the PM revealed that work on a giant toilet seat had been completed and that the seat was being moved into place around the volcano's caldera. Mr Brown was then forced to explain to Sun reporters what a caldera was, ignoring the sniggering when he said it was the volcano's rim. Scientists have apparently been working around the clock to mix the scent of doner kebab meat into the plume of smoke rising from Mount Bjork and are claiming success with the first stage of their plan. Eye witnesses in the north of England report sightings of Prescott shambling northwards with a copy of The Daily Sport gripped in one trotter.

The team of experts working for the Prime Minister hope that when 'Two Shits' Prescott lowers his massive bouncy-castle of an arse onto the volcano, a vacuum will be formed which will hold the former national embarrassment in place, stopping the giant cloud of ash that has given many Britons an excuse. Although it is thought that Mr Prescott will be in a severe amount of discomfort due to molten magna going up his poo shoot, this is being viewed as a lucky coincidence.

Critics of the plan include leading vulcanologist Dave Watt, who knows surprisingly little about Star Trek and can't even do that thing with his hand that Mr Spock does. Dave told Stinky Ponky "I'm concerned that these actions will make the situation worse rather than offering a solution. If there's not a perfect seal between Prescott's rippling flanks and the volcano, ash and smoke could still escape, and worse still, so could Prescott.

"But there's something more serious to consider. If you couple the fact that there may not be sufficient buttock sealage with the very real chance that Prescott might drop the kids off at the pool, you're facing the frankly terrifiying possibility that the whole of Europe could disappear under a cloud of vaporised shit. Prescott's vaporised shit. Now I don't know about you, but I think if I was walking to the shops or something when I caught a whiff of burnt cack and found myself being coated with a fetid, marmite-like residue, I might just vomit my intestines onto the pavement. Couple that with the knowledge of whose toasted tom tit I was being coated with and I'd probably just snuff it on the spot.

"Let's just wedge Nick Griffin in there instead."