Written by Riva Ribband
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Topics: Old People, England

Wednesday, 5 September 2001

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Very nice, very nice indeed

The world was rocked yesterday by the news that there is absolutely nothing to complain about in the country affectionately known by locals as "Britannia's huge shield".

Although not proven by any hard fact, the circumstantial evidence was such that pressure groups all over the country disbanded after performing the final activity of allowing members, aggrieved at having nothing better to waste their time on after spending the duration of their adult lives filling the ears of supposed professional "influence-asserters" with aural silage, to participate in a mass burial of complainants in the same field where Bambi's mother was, according to popular myth, shot.

However, the crisis stretches further than this. The news that Britain now is no longer considered to be inferior to any existing developing country in any field imaginable has dramatically shaken the foundations of media relations.

Politicians seeking an elect-able bandwagon are besieging press organisations around the country to offer any scandal available. The Shadow Complaints Minister, Lord Awful of Moanington, issued a press statement this morning, in which he confessed to owning an entire collection of Phil Collins vinyls, an atrocity for which he shows no remorse.

Meanwhile, not to be outdone, the Government has hinted at gay tendencies in the Prime Minister, who declared yesterday that he thought Peter Mandelson looked "very nice, very nice indeed" in his new suit.

A spokesman for the remainder of British complainers, Ted McDuffer, issued a statement in which he disputed the claims that everything was OK in Britain. "Sure, there may be more people in the street, and there may be fewer locks on the doors, but we all know what that means, don't we? FEWER dodgy dealers, FEWER complaints and BANG! There you have it, mass suicide!"

Mr McDuffer was later sectioned, but released when his chief psycho buster, Dr Sane, found that his usual nightly laugh at Talk Radio loons was replaced by the Cliff Richard Happy Station, and Britain sighed a collective wheeze that moaning enhanced the richness of their superiority.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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