The Truth about Goats
The simpering population of the UK turned out in dozens to mark the birth of yet another lizard overlord. Obsequious to the point of nausea, the people of Britain displayed their loyalty by kowtowing, making a kissing sound and letting the Queen ‘rub their tummy’.
Her Majesty, resplendent in an ‘I’m 90’ badge and matching tiara, went out to survey her grovelling Proles. With a spryness that belied her years and billionaire lifestyle, Queen Elizabeth took a ‘ceremonial piss’ on a variety of commoners to mark her territory.
Dressed in union jack onesies, her loyal and mentally-ill subjects jostled to breath in the rarefied breath of someone who could have them all locked up for treason in an instant. Cheering crowds wished her a happy birthday by chanting ‘We know our place’, much to the delight of tourists come to watch this long tradition of self-abasement.
Ultimately there is nothing that stirs national pride then the sight of a fully grown man curtseying. One overly deferential simpleton said: ‘ I feel so much more comfortable relinquishing control of my life to my betters. All those hands that need shaking and ribbons that need cutting – I wouldn’t know where to begin’.