September 2012 News Round Up Featuring Michael Gove, Danny Boyle, Internet Pranksters and Team GB!

The Globe Theatre, London, where today artistic director Tramus Mazuma announced his major production for the Autumn

season would be a song and dance spectacular inspired by the Kenyan uprising of the 1950s, an event that saw members

of the ‘Mau Mau’ tribe imprisoned and tortured by imperial, British forces.

“After Slumdog Millionaire and his triumph at the Olympics Opening Ceremony, there was just the one name on our short-list

for this prestigious role directing a powerful, untold story.” Mr. Mazuma told the press earlier today. “It was a really, really short list.”

“Mr. Boyle has shown an affinity for the ex-colonial peoples as well as an unparalleled ability to incorporate different styles

of music, thousands of dancers and a ‘revisionist’ approach to empire into a seamless entertainment whole.” Tramus went

on. “Although speculation the Queen will be helicoptered in for a guest appearance during matinees is wide of the mark.

She’s getting on a bit now.”

With live music from Tinawiren, Fuck Buttons and Aswad, ‘Mau Mau – The Play’ tells the tale of Kenya’s brutal repression

by British colonisers in the years before independence. This flagship production comes as a severe blow to Prime Minister

David Cameron, who was hoping to ‘reboot’ the British empire off the back of Team GB’s

sporting success, with plans afoot to re-invade Zimbabwe, India and, if all goes well, the United States.

“Yes, it’s bad news for him.” Laughed the Globe’s Artistic Director when we caught up with him backstage near a giant recreation

of the Nairobi savannah. “Diddy Dave won’t enjoy Danny’s exploration of the most racist regime in history, not at all. I can’t reveal

too much of the plot, but I can promise pyrotechnics, battle scenes, and a heart-warming ending where a local lad wins big before

parading round a running track as the masses cheer him on. This is a project very close to Danny’s heart, and he intends to relay

something they don’t teach in our schools; how the British murdered thousands of supposed ‘militants’ in cold blood.”

Tramus then bid us farewell, adding: “Also he really wants to piss off Aiden Burley this time.”

The primary and secondary schools of England where, across the country, children are returning for

another year of institutionalised learning, cold showers and endless wedgies, while teachers diligently

map out lesson plans for Autumn. But if the education secretary, Michael ‘Pob Lookalike’ Gove, gains

traction for his latest scheme, the conventional state-funded approach of one teacher versus thirty-plus

pupils may no longer be allowed because of its ‘inherent inefficiency’.

“That’s just such a waste of money, worse than GCSEs.” Gove (left) told HDUK when we joined his annual grouse-shooting holiday in late

August. “Headmasters and underlings are paid by government to do the same old thing, year in year out. But anyone can hold an

assembly or press play on an informational DVD, and then there’s all the time off they get, plus a gilt-edged pension at the end of it. And

after all that, they have the sheer nerve to go on strike whenever I ‘undermine’ them by talking down OFSTED, re-introducing O-Levels, or

changing the grading system so kids fail in order to raise standards! As everyone knows, our country’s comprehensives and ‘academies’

churn out nothing more than van drivers, housewives, costermongers and the like. It’s not as if these schools contain the best and

brightest of a generation. They’re all studying at Eton, or Harrow.”

“Now is the time for innovative, ill-conceived and potentially cataclysmic change.” Gove went on, firing a shot that took the guts from a

young, female bird. “If kids are empowered to look after each other we can do away with the profession of ‘teaching’ altogether, outside the

7% who pay for it of course. We can’t get rid of the public schools; they’re what makes this nation great.”

Gove’s ground-breaking plan was recently piloted at Toby Young’s Free School over in affluent West London (right), and the

scheme is expected to roll out nationwide by 2015, steamrollering over ineffectual Libdem vows to block it and a public tantrum

from Nick Clegg. Once delivered, the initiative will put the onus on older pubescents to conduct lessons and inform pupils of key

historical events, the process of osmosis, trigonometry, and all that palaver. Meanwhile fifth form children will be expected to keep

the infants in check, as Year 12 teaches Year 7 everything they know via the so-called ‘cascade theory’ of modern education,

assisted in their work by teaching aids such as smart phones, iPads, rising social network site ‘Yammer’ and textspeak.

Prime Minister David Cameron was quick to support the idea, taking time out from his reshuffling to yell “Nice one Govey!” at the

Education Secretary from across the room in a crowded Garrick Club before going back to thinking about Syria. Meanwhile Tory

Leader-in-waiting Boris ‘Hello Ladies!’ Johnson confirmed his backing “as long as there’s plenty of Latin involved”.

“This will give the brightest kids an early opportunity to learn about the application of authority, while also developing pedagogical skills in a fast-moving environment.”

Gove blathered on, firing off another round that accidentally hit a passing rambler in the arse. “My brill idea also gives tomorrow’s

single mums invaluable experience of responsibility and crowd control before they actually get pregnant. I don’t see how this

can fail, I really don’t.”

When asked about the outbursts of sadism, bullying and wanton destruction of property by older students that besmirched the

first test run at Young’s school, the Education secretary was unapologetic.

“Of course there will be teething problems.” Gove mused. “But children eventually settle down and shut up. When I was younger

I was regularly beaten at state school then made to fag for the older kids after winning a scholarship and it never did me any

harm. Look at this boy now!”

“And if they can’t sort it out we’ll send the police in.” Gove went on with a chuckle. “That’s unless we’ve sacked all of them too.”

The offices, dinner parties and tabloid newsrooms of the country, where a wave of jingoistic nationalism has engulfed

Great Britain in the wake of our triumphant goldrush through the sporting cavalcade that was the 30th and best

Olympiad, an adventure that meant everyone over here got a massively high opinion of themselves all of a sudden.

“We’re brilliant and amazing, only the US and China are better!” Still-drunk shoe salesman Davey Guesstimate slurred

while waving Union Jacks and wandering past an abandoned council estate near Manchester. “And those other two

countries have an unfair advantage over us, ‘cause they’ve got billions of potential athletes. We can’t hope to be better

than the leaders of the free world. Or a bunch of Communists who force their gymnasts to practice 18 hours a day and

won’t tell them close relatives have died until after they win.”

“Apart from those two exceptions we are definitely the bestest.” Davey continued as HDUK tried to make our excuses and

get the hell away. “We put the thing on without a hitch, the sun shone all over our important country, and Team GB’s brave

boy and girl heroes brought home the metallic bacon. I even developed an interest in the double-trap at one point.”

Mr. Guesstimate then staggered off in the direction of the only neighbourhood shop that wasn’t boarded up to spend some

of his redundancy pay on a can of strong cider, pausing only to yell “We did it!” at no one in particular.

With the British economy expected to remain at zero growth indefinitely, millions out of work, public services discontinued or

cut to the bone, the sell off of the NHS and Post Office, soaring food prices, and

another winter of discontent on the way, little wonder British people are looking to

the Olympics medal table every chance they get. Many can still be seen pointing it out to passing foreigners; explaining their

rival homelands are nowhere to be seen, or laughing as the inferior likes of Korea, Russia, France, and Germany (with their silly

discus-throwing hurdler) are mentioned as competition. Those countries that somehow believed they could get close to our

massive medal tally. And Australia, especially Australia.

“In times of great poverty and suffering people find distractions can take their minds off the horribleness of life and the insecurity

suffered by no longer being players on the world stage.” Psychologist Phil Haruspex told Home Defence thoughtfully when we

visited his clinic in Ebbsfleet. “This behaviour can manifest itself in extreme patriotism, or a sudden and inexplicable

fascination with kayaking, swimming, or riding a bicycle really fast, where previously there was only ambivalence.”

“But I mean, seriously, did you see how many medals we won?” Phil went on. “The whole nation, of which you, me and

everyone else are an integral part, should be very proud. Even if we haven’t personally participated in any vigorous

activity since school.” At this point Haruspex’s voice grew high-pitched with excitement. “We got so many, it became

silly. My family are from Yorkshire which, were it a nation, would have come fifth or something. I’ve put a huge laminated

version of the final table above my bed at home and I sort of pray to it every night, before going to sleep.”

All of a sudden the psychologist’s face fell, and he ended our discussion mumbling: “I wish they weren’t over. Why do

the Olympics have to be over?”

Our worldwide web, where today the online community was the victim of a really funny practical joke by a man (or

possibly a woman. No, come to think of it, that would definitely be a man), who, it turns out, said something was

true, but actually made the whole thing up. Out of their brain. What larks!

“I was taken aback for what must have been, ooh, twelve minutes at least.” Regular Internet user Peggy Brostep told

Home Defence between barely-suppressed giggles. “It was so convincing. Some amateur comedian had even mocked

up a fake news report before sending it ‘virally’ across the social networks, micro-blogging sites and gullible e-zines,

meaning the story was everywhere. It was only when I looked more closely that I saw the fonts didn’t match up, and

the illustrative picture was badly photo-shopped from several different sources. Then I began to wonder if it was actually

a hoax, albeit a hilarious one!”

Indeed, the belief something really important had happened, probably involving a famous person, proliferated across all

lanes of the information superhighway for much of the morning. Online editions of tabloid newspapers reported the prank

as fact, while politicians including John Prescott, Nadine Dorries and Ed Milliband called for the Prime Minister to launch

an independent investigation into the implications for our nation.

At the time of going to press, HDUK was unable to pin down the substance of the story, which was likely invented by a

man in his twenties who lives alone, and only goes out into the fresh air very reluctantly. Some sources claim the prank

related to the death of a renowned Radio 1 Disc Jockey, while others said they heard it was about a sportsman who had

behaved badly while inebriated. In the meantime Beryl Sherbet (left), a housewife from

Chislehurst, emailed to say she’d been sent a link from a trusted source directing her to a ‘smoking gun’ that depicted a pop star, or

possibly some member of the Royal family, doing something unexpected. Like Prince Charles working a real job, or Dappy from

N-Dubz crossbreeding with a goat. Mrs Sherbet was enrapt and appalled, that is until her son-in-law pointed out the unlikeliness of

the whole thing and she worked it out.

By lunchtime the Twitter police were no closer to identifying the source of this comedy gold, although several thousand man hours

had been spent in thorough investigation which led to the arrest of around 10,000 rogue ‘tweeters’. These men and women will now be

charged under a variety of blog-specific anti-terror laws while the prank, which had once captured the imagination of anybody with a

smart-phone was, by early afternoon, largely forgotten. This waning of interest came in the wake of fresh scuttlebutt, alleging Justin

Bieber had been busily thinking up a new pet name for his penis.