“For Brexit everyone must give up something”
The voice boomed out over the Manchester slum as the recently commissioned helicopter “Mogg One” descended towards the waiting crowd. The vehicle was shaped like a Victorian schoolmaster bending a young boy over his knee and giving him a dam good thrashing!
“Like Mr Mogg will give those bleeding heart remoaners!” Shouted a bloke from the horde who it seemed had read our previous paragraph before we’d even published it.
Mogg One landed with a blast from the national anthem and crushed a couple of disable shirkers who were too committed to their con of disability to get out of the way. Their cries of anguish merely added to the spectacle.
To frenzied chants of “Mogg! Mogg! Mogg!” the esteemed Eurosceptic Jacob-Rees Mogg descended the ramp that came from the helicopter. He raised his hands and the crowd hushed and Mogg drank in the tension he’s built like a master craftsmen.
“My lessers! It is a joy to behold you worthless wretches and the way you prostate yourselves in front of me like cattle begging for the butchers kiss.”
He began to walk through the crowd as it parted in front of him
“We all must make sacrifices for the glory of Brexit! Some of us may lose a limb.”
One of Moggs minders drew a wicked curved blade and in a blur of motion he removed the outreaching arm of a “Moggite”. Hot arterial blood sprayed over the crowd and Mogg who smiled.
“Some may lose a valued pet”
A dog was hoofed skyward.
A young cheering couple was targeted and the man bared his throat to the minder as he slashed it open. His wife clapped in joy as the last few surges of breath made the blood bubble as it spewed from her husbands neck.
Mogg looked round smiling as mothers held out their children to their saviour. He selected three of the youngest boys to be taken crying back to Mogg One. They would be inducted later.
“I of course will be sacrificing the most. More than you can ever know. While I may not be here with you I am thinking of you....whenever my toilet is blocked”
He turned from the crowd who began the begging that the lower classes are so acclimatised to, Mogg was clearly disturbed by the mewling so he raised his arm one more time to bring order to proceedings.
“One among you.....isn’t English.....”
He let the sentence hang in the air like the victim of a very strange lynching. Then a heavy set man cried out:
“It’s her! She’s the foreign!”
A lady cried out as he brought down a brick on the back of her neck and others began whooping and stamping on her. Then other fights began, teeth, fists, feet anything that could be thrown at the man next to you. Anything that could be brought to bear to try and stop this foreign invasion.
Mogg smiled: “we’ll fight them on the beaches......we’ll fight them in the hills....” He muttered as he made his way back up the ramp. He turned and looked at his supporters which by now rolled in filth and blood mixed with the bodies of the fallen. Children screamed. Brother fought brother. Parents struck down by errant daughters. All to try and route out one potential foreigner, that fear, that panic, the scent of people turning against one another it was a heady aphrodisiac for
Mogg, we could tell because of the size of the erection he was cradling as he watched.
“Brexit means Brexit”