Welcome to another edition of the Frank Report, and it’s more doom and gloom this week I’m afraid. Covid cases have hit a record high in the UK with daily symptomatic infections ‘soaring’ to 351,546. And yet, Britons are not nearly as terrified as they should be – only three in ten of us are staying home voluntarily, and a meagre 40% percent are still wearing masks. The powers that be had no choice therefore, but to release the latest ‘Ninja variant’ – apparently the most dangerous yet. Which presumably means you might spend two days on your death bed, a la Jeremy Vine.
Topping the list of things coming to kill us isn’t Covid surprisingly, but the sun – without the tradition beauties of page three, more’s the pity. Is it of course unusual for Britain to enjoy more than three days of consecutive sunshine, but the panickers at Westminster actually called a COBRA meeting this week to discuss the emergencies of a heatwave. Londoners are even advised not to travel on Monday and Tuesday because of the extreme heat. Top tip: it used to be called summer, folks.
Britain’s medics (always on the ball) are advising people to ‘go commando’, which would certainly make your next gang rape in Telford more convenient. Yes, those nice chappies in the grooming business are perennially on heat, as the long-overdue report into Muslim sex trafficking has finally confirmed (what everyone already knew): the systematic abuse and gang rape of white working-class girls has been ongoing since the 1980’s, aided and abetted by the connivance of the authorities – but at least no one was called ‘racist’.
Heating up as well is the Tory leadership, which has been whittled down to five candidates after Suella Braverman was sadly evicted. While I’m sad to see Suella go, one has to question her tactics. The Conservative party’s only consistent policy is electing a non-conservative leader. What was she thinking, promising to withdraw us from the ECHR and acting conservatively? A rookie move.
The Labour Party meanwhile are shitting themselves at the prospect of Kemi Badenoch, Tory members top choice by a country mile according to Conservative Home polling, which gives her at a double digit lead over Liz Truss. Labour grandee Alistair Campbell was so concerned he tore himself away from the night’s third bottle of scotch to tweet this diatribe:
Really surprised how lightweight @KemiBadenoch is. Kept hearing Tory MPs and client journalists saying how good she was. Can’t see it. The other four pretty much as expected. But none of them has what might actually be termed a vision or a plan.
The rough translation of which is as follows: a black, female conservative for PM will deprive us of the only arguments we’ve used for the past two decades: ‘toxic masculinity’, ‘white privilege’, and ‘oppressed minorities’. Surely the nation doesn’t expect us to come up with actual opposition to government policy?
In gender news, the US Army has confirmed it will require men shower with women – one just hopes the men will be safe from those aggressive female cocks. The WHO’s new gender guidance has stated that sex is ‘not limited to male or female’ – but then this is the same WHO which doesn’t know its arse from its phalloplasty. And sweatphobic, sexoholic Prince Andrew’s infamous Newsnight interview is being lined up as a Hollywood blockbuster – what a shame Sid James is unavailable.
In other news, there was breathtaking largesse from Bill gates this week, who has pledged to give all his money away to himself. The BBC are furious that there aren’t enough black footballers on the England Women’s football team – they’ll be investigating the Nigerian team next week. And finally, Prince Harry’s request to join the Queen on the balcony during the Platinum Jubilee was reportedly scuppered by Her Majesty herself. This puts the Duke in a quandary however, as, unable to throw himself off it, Hazza will be forced to come up with more inventive suicide plans.
That was Frank’s week.
Take care of yourselves, and if you find yourself exposed to any toxic rays of sunshine, remember that a swim, an ice cream, and a generous measure of Jack Daniels used to be considered a holiday.
