how the braindead enable evil to establish an 'event'

having received certain missives indicating that certain persons in certain sections of our community might just possibly have been untowardly upset by a recent spark up! exposition, i can, in my defence and all sincerity, only state that, in my heart-of-hearts, i consider this effect of my causing to have been entirely and unequivocally unintentional.

here at spark up! we strive to rise above the petty puerile squabblings of the left-right-and-centre of the arstablishment in order to highlight prevailing socio-political issues worthy of a damn good rogering, and in this respect, i am reluctant to engage in the over-reactively emotional lamentation or celebratory commemoration of the croaking of an ancient briton whose active influence on our current-day lives has long since passed, there being of course much more clear and present monisters on which to keep a carefully-focused cats-eye - big bad-assed benefit-exploiting monisters indeed, who will be revelling in the god-organized opportunity, afforded by the deliberate distraction of ten days' national-mourning and idiot-driven mockery, to dip right out of public-view and brew-up yet more miserable poisoned broth for the manipulated masses, whose lawful vilification constitutes a cordon bleu meal-ticket for the cunts who facilitate its slimy legislative path through parliament.

this said however, the dear departed's largely tax-payer-funded funeral arrangements (weighing-in at roughly £6 million) at least merit a cursory inspection - draining, as they do, the communal cash-pool, curtailing, as they do, city-based courier earnings, and buggering-up, as they always do, both traffic-circulation and the general london-economy for a whole bloody week.

naturally, none of this elaborate extravagance is in any way of the untimely deceased's own making...in an ideal world, the down-to-earth former prime-meddler's mortally stripped-assets would have enjoyed:

• the simple common delights of lying-on-a-crate in a democratically selected east-end corner-shop


• a cortège of white vans tastefully sprayed black in deference to the solemn occasion - all driven courteously by specially chosen basildon men each with his foot to floorboards to maximize profits


• a scenic al fresco hearse-ride to the funeral-venue on a hastily converted milk-float chauffeured by norman deathbite


• a brief chapel-service consisting of a few quick apt words of wisdom taken from st francis of assisi - concisely summing-up the general sentiments of the gathered proletariat


• a no-frills no-fuss heave-ho into the furnace - closely followed, in strict accordance with royal aryan tradition, by the voluntary 'sati-style' self-sacrifice of every living conservative cabinet minister, past and present

nevertheless, in the event that the demented empress had chosen interment as her favoured option of transferral into the afterlife, i'm sure that, being an unpretentious woman, she would have gone for:

• only a modest-sized pyramid


• an unostentatious but practical black-leather-bound sarcophagus with shoulder-length straps, an attractive brass-buckle, and a handy compartment for storing tissues scrawled-over with quotes


• just the one burial-chamber - although sufficiently spacious enough to accommodate all her ex-colleagues, a fridge for her milk, a year's supply of whisky, and a few gross of brussels