A CHANGE OF POLITICAL LIFESTYLE
with Al Likilla
Home Defence UK
A Symptom of a Greater Malaise
ALL LIFESTYLE:
Our Prominent Political Figureheads - Where The F*ck Are They Now?
Late Summer 2015
                                They were the movers and shakers who ran this country, or thought they were going to. Men and.. er, yes, just men, who set the tone by 
                                receiving insulting headlines on a daily basis for many years. In those days of yore they were the big beasties, delighting the electorate with 
                                unachievable promises, mendacious interviews, spontaneous catchphrases and the occasional racial slur. It felt like these men, these proud 
                                men, would be in the public eye forever. But they weren’t. 

                                                    A few short months after a General Election most of us have repressed in our memories like some kind of hideous childhood abuse, they’ve disappeared completely, like so much
                                                    pigswill from a farmer’s trough. Never again to be paid attention to by ordinary people, they haemorrhage party support, Twitter followers and, in some cases, actual blood
                                                    These people are the necessary collateral damage of our system, with the likes of Lynne ‘lapdog’ Featherstone or Mark ‘fucking Reckless’ Reckless unmourned by reasonable folk 
                                                    as they are cast into the dustbin of history, never to resurface.

                                                    It was a bloodbath, a season of unprecedented political change, a time when all the comedy figures we relied on to entertain us with their stupid antics realised being full of
                                                    themselves and a bit shit wasn’t enough to keep them in a job, not after the voters cottoned on. So what the fuck happened? Well, since the rest of the UK media doesn’t appear 
                                                    to give a flying turd-nugget any more, it’s left to HDUK to ask the question on nobody’s lips – where are they now?

Nick Clegg had perhaps the biggest fall from grace, going from Deputy Prime Minister and glorious leader of a successful party to utter, unrelenting failure in the space of one 
dark night of the groin. Still, the voters in Sheffield Hallam re-elected Clegg as their Member of Parliament (one of eight constituencies the LibDems still hold, or the equivalent 
of a medium-size channel island). This means Cleggy continues to work as a full-time MP, where he must confront the legacy of shame on a daily basis, being constantly 
immersed in the smoking ruins and traumatised support that somehow remains. Nick now clings to a once-thriving party, one which used to have conferences and everything, 
Look upon ye works Cleggy, and despair.

After being treated for delusions and outlandish fantasies by qualified professionals, who intervened on hearing Nick maintain his party would “do surprisingly well” at the 
General Election, Clegg is now back on the road to health. He can bear to face himself in the mirror most mornings, and with another white man whose name no one knows 
having taken the zero-hours job of leading what’s left of the Liberal Democrats, recently Nick has been taking the opportunity to catch up on ‘outstanding projects’. For weeks he’s 
                                been digging what Clegg refers to as a ‘den’ in the garden of his South-West London home, reinforcing the walls and kitting out this hole with broadcasting equipment, purchased cheap off 
                                eBay. Nick now spends up to twenty hours a day in there, with the locals speculating that being ‘bumped’ from the Nick Ferrari Show has inspired their once-famous neighbour to improvise his 
                                own mouthpiece. Cleggy spends his nights broadcasting anti-government rants, tearful mea culpas and traffic reports for the local area via short-wave radio, a signal that sometimes reaches
                                as far as Putney Bridge. Often he won’t even stop for dinner, whereupon Nick has to be coaxed out of his hole by the eldest Clegger child who will swear to God no harm will come to his father if
                                he returns to the daylit world. None whatsoever.

                                After turning down lucrative offers to appear on the next series of ‘I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here’ and ‘Flockstars’ Ed Balls now works as a full-time house husband or ‘raddy daddy’. Balls 
                                will greet his wife Yvette after a hard day’s leadership campaigning in a comedy apron with a drawing of a French maid on it. He then proceeds to serve up a home-cooked meal, glass of sweet
                                sherry and supportive words for his beloved, having already put the kids to bed (something Ellie (16) and Joe (25) find quite unnerving). After a couple of unthinking remarks during the early days 
                                of his new routine, when the former MP mentioned Jeremy Corbyn’s name over tagliatelle and whelks, Ed has now learned his lesson and will never mention that man’s name in the house again.

Nigel Farage is as unsure as anyone whether he still leads the United Kingdom Independence Party, but remains available for reporters who require a considered opinion on 
the men, women and children fleeing life-threatening circumstances and taking their chances in Calais. Recent weeks brought reports of a rift between Nige and UKIP’s sole 
Member of Parliament, Douglas Carswell, a man who represents Clacton in Essex, that place described by architecture critic Nikolaus Pevsner as “a shithole”. Their rivalry is 
said to date from the election’s aftermath when UKIP won the seat and Carswell arrived at the House of Commons to find Farage already sitting in it. An unseemly struggle 
followed, with Carswell accusing Farage of being drunk and Nigel struggling not to spill the pint he’d somehow smuggled in. Ever since then the relationship between these ‘big 
beastmen’ has been fractious, with Carswell claiming Farage occupies his chair when no one’s looking and Nigel spluttering incoherently before sounding out others at his local 
around closing time, talking up the possibility of a coup. This would be achieved by wrestling Carswell to the ground then tying his thumbs together.

                                    Copies of Farage’s 2015 opus ‘The Purple Revolution’ are available for less than a pound, hardback.
​    
                                    Vince Cable has finally gone on that cruise he’d been promising his wife since 2003. Regular updates are available on Vince’s new blog layingcable.com, where a recent post appears to imply
                                    that, once back on terra firma, Vince will spend his remaining life on tour with a travelling circus, either as Ringmaster or the boy who washes down the elephant.

                                    Grant Shapps lost his position as Conservative party co-chairman after admitting to multiple personality disorder and being made to look like a tit on Facebook once too often. Grant has 
                                    since utilised favourable economic circumstances to launch his own Applications store (‘ShappsApps’) where you can download anything from an assumed name generator to software for
                                    finding your local bingo hall.

Ed Milliband has been careful not to endorse any of the Labour leadership contenders, because it really wouldn’t be fair (although it could hardly be more counter-productive than Blair’s 
interventions). Instead, Milliband The Beardier prefers to stay indoors, cleaning his kitchens and polishing ‘The Edstone’ which now takes up pride of place in the family garage and means the 
Millibands have to park their cars on the street. As for his career, Ed has gone back to full-time policy wonking, inventing initiatives no one will ever put into practice with some of the UK’s leading 
wonks at left-wing wonkhouse ‘Wonkgasm of Belsize Park’. Ed’s brother, who is a vindictive sort, recently confirmed during an interview with ‘Good Housekeeping’ magazine that he still hates his 
younger sibling.

                                                Alex Salmond spends each day lounging around his Inverness mansion, dressed in his favourite kilt and an XXL t-shirt with Irn-Bru down the front.

                                                Danny Alexander put an ad in NME immediately following the General Election, intending to form a ska band (‘Danny Alexander and the Marital Aids’) who are now 
                                                available for short notice bookings. This group are willing to perform anywhere from society weddings to bleak birthday parties for the impoverished children of 
                                                single mothers. Unable to accept his recent Knighthood from the Queen because she was laughing too hard, from October onwards Danny guest stars in hit musical comedy ‘Avenue 
                                                Q’ at the Hull Adelphi.

Renowned election co-ordinator David Axelrod is available for hire as a ‘senior strategic adviser’ to political parties who are willing to pay for his services, anywhere in the world. 
His credentials are impeccable, and Alexrod has had a few fingers in many of the successful electoral campaigns of the 21st century. Unfortunately, David is too busy to update 
his CV, so it currently ends at 2014. 

Who is Natalie Bennett? I confess, I’ve no idea.

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