Farewell, Neil Innes

A true original and one of my heroes. See you in Shangri-La, sir.

© Amnesty International

 

Neil Innes

(9th December, 1944 - 29th December, 2019)

Sketches from Memory: G20 Christmas Party Special

Click to enlarge

24th December, 2019

At the G20 Christmas party. Owing to the current political climate, this year's event is a much more restrained affair than usual. Instead of pâté de fois gras, dwarves carrying trays of cocaine and, of course, the ever popular wet t-shirt competition, guests are treated to a gluten-free vegan buffet, a Secret Santa present trail and a chance to show off their vocal skills on the karaoke machine. It's underwhelming to say the least.

The evening kicks off with the usual meet-and-greet session, where heads of state get to catch-up and welcome new faces before the real festivities begin. Narendra Modi confides to me he hates this part because he always gets mistaken for a waiter.

"I'm not just some bloody dogsbody, y'know," he says grumpily, handing me a glass of prosecco. "I transformed India into a potential superpower, d'you hear? A SUPERPOWER!"

He starts comparing India's rising GDP next to that of European nations, but breaks off when Donald Trump catches his eye and beckons him over.

"Hey, Jeevsie!" he shouts, waving an empty glass. "More tigers' piss over here!"

As Modi goes to get him a top-up, Boris Johnson grabs my arm and asks if I'll settle a dispute he's having with Emmanuel Macron. Citing Agincourt as a precedent, Boris reckons that a handful of navvies with a couple of bull terriers could easily take on the French President's proposed European army and deliver a spectacular win. When Macron refers to this as an ethno-nationalist fairy-tale, Boris calls him a garlic-munching turd who can't even handle a bunch of irate Parisian lollipop ladies. An offended Macron drops his trousers and aggressively waves his penis at Boris, calling his mother a hamster and speculating that his father smelt of elderberries. Boris rolls up his sleeves ready to plant a couple of punches when Angela Merkel and Justin Trudeau rush over and separate them.

"Fighting won't get us anywhere!" Trudeau says, flashing a look at Merkel in the hope his virtue-signalling will gain her approval. "We've all a got to work together if we're ever going to achieve global peace and prosperity..."

Scott Morrison suddenly bursts into a mocking rendition of "Old Man River" complete with jazz hands, causing everyone to explode with laughter save a red-faced Trudeau. When Mauricio Macri asks him if he's imitating a Red Indian now I decide to step in.

"Come on, this is meant to be a party," I remind the assembled guests. "Let's just get on with having some fun, okay?"

Jean-Claude Juncker seconds this and announces that it's time to reveal who won this year's raffle. Two functionaries carry a picnic hamper onto the stage and open it to reveal a treasure trove of gifts, including a copy of Stomzy's new album, a signed photograph of a scowling Greta Thunberg, and a large plush toy of Ru-Paul.

"And the winning ticket is... number 636," Juncker says, pulling a reel of raffle tickets out of his pocket and meticulously scrutinising them one by one.

"I win! I win!" Xi Jinping squeals, waving a ticket above his head. Pockets of polite applause patter softly across the room accompanied by the sound of groans and raffle tickets being screwed up.

"This is bullshit!" Trump says. "That bastard's ticket is only one number up from mine."

"C'mon, Don," I whisper. "It's the luck of the draw!"

"Face it, Trumpman, you beaten!" Xi chuckles, motioning a personal assistant to take the hamper. "All your prizes are belong to us!"

"How much do you want?" Trump asks, pulling out his wallet.

"Fifteen hundred dollar," Xi replies.

Trump licks his thumb and starts counting a wad of banknotes, grunting with annoyance when he realises he's $400 short. He scans the room looking for someone to borrow the money from, but the other delegates indignantly fold their arms and turn away. Thinking on his feet, Trump rummages through his pockets for an item of value, only to find a half empty, well-chewed biro. He looks back at the guests and picks out an easy mark stuffing his face at the buffet.

"Boris, c'mere! I got something for you..."

Boris scoops up a handful of Dukkah-crusted squash wedges and waddles over to Trump.

"You see this pen? This pen, Boris, is a piece of history. You know who this belonged to?"

Boris shakes his head blankly.

"Abraham Lincoln," Trump says slowly. "Can you imagine that? Abraham Lincoln. The greatest statesman the world has ever seen. This pen, Boris, is a political heirloom, passed from one President to another. Ulysses S. Grant, Ted Roosevelt, Frank Roosevelt, Dopey Eisenhower, Tricky Dicky, The Gipper - they all used this pen, Boris. Great men acting in the service of their country. And before all those guys, those giants of the American political scene, Honest Abe, himself... You know he wrote the Gettysburg Address with this pen? Used it to sign the National Banking Act? Not to mention the greatest proclamation of liberty the world has ever seen: the Declaration of Independence."

"Gosh!" Boris exclaims, signalling Modi for another drink. "Must be worth a few bob, then!"

"Oh, millions," Trump says, putting his arm around Boris. "But between you and me, Johnny Boy, with a national debt of twenty-three trillion dollars you've gotta be prepared to make sacrifices. Besides, if all goes to plan next month and you guys finally cut yourselves free from those jokers in Strasbourg, you're gonna need a little something stashed away to help you through the transition period. You know - until we put our heads together and come up with something more permanent..."

"How much?" Boris asks, practically slobbering all over his shoes.

"Two thousand dollars," Trump sniffs.

"Sold!" Boris says, reaching for his wallet.

"Well, we like to help our friends, don't we?" Trump smirks, snatching the money from Boris' hand. He quickly peels off $1500 and gives it to Xi.

"Chángmìng băisuì!" Xi smiles before gesturing his assistant to hand the hamper over to the President. Trump leans over to me conspiratorially.

"You make your own luck in this world, Dicky Boy," he says with an emphatic nod. "Now get that fat, defeatist ass of yours humping, okay?"

As I lug the ill-gotten gains towards the elevator a delighted Boris shows his new treasure to Merkel, who promptly slaps him and enquires if his parents ever thought about asking Eton for a refund.

* * * * *

10:30pm, and a sleepy Mohammad bin Salman, thumb in mouth, all tuckered out from the Secret Santa trail, is being carried from the main hall by members of his entourage. Normally I'd say this would be for the best as we're now in the cabaret slot before the karaoke and some of the entertainment gets a little blue, but this year former comedian turned statesman Volodymir Zelensky has volunteered himself to liven things up, and the atmosphere is proving to be anything but raucous. He opens with the one about the man who complains to the doctor that his penis has turned orange, but loses his thread halfway through and messes up the punchline about the man sitting at home all day watching porn and eating nacho cheese Doritos. He cocks up joke after joke, each one failing worse than the last, until one member of the audience decides they can't take any more.

"My wife's just come back from the West Indies," Zelensky offers, waiting for someone to give him the feedline.

"What, Cuba?" Vladimir Putin shouts with mock credulity.

"No, the other one..." Zelensky half-whispers, taking in the sea of disgruntled faces glaring back at him as a bead of sweat trails from his brow.

"Haiti-?" Putin asks, toying with his prey.

"JAMAICA!" Zelensky snarls.

"No, I thought you did," Putin deadpans, spreading his hands as sniggers ripple through the hall.

"Well, it... it doesn't matter, anyway," Zelensky says, trying to regain composure as his lip begins to wobble. "The wife and I have been fighting a lot recently. She threw a lettuce at me the other week, and that was just the tip of the iceberg..."

"That one's older than Peter the Great!" Putin heckles, rising to his feet despite Recep Erdoğan urging him not to make a scene.

"LET'S SEE YOU HAVE A GO, THEN, YOU FUCKING MIDGET!" Zelensky screams, throwing the microphone to the floor. "COME ON! CRIMEA 2.0: RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW!"

Putin nods solemnly before walking up to the stage. He motions one of the functionaries for a fresh microphone, casually slips a hand into his pocket and lets rip.

"At the entrance exam for the KGB they asked me what I'd do if I had to arrest my own mother-in-law. 'Only what any other married man would do,' I answered. 'Call for backup...'"

Boris, Trump, Jair Bolsonaro, Giuseppe Conte and Mark Rutte all let out an enormous belly laugh as Trudeau shakes his head dispprovingly, looking once more to Merkel as his moral barometer.

"How many Frenchmen does it take to defend Paris?" Putin continues. "Fuck knows, they've never even tried."

Merkel falls about laughing, slapping Macron on the back so hard it looks as though all those spicy sweet potato wedges and glasses of Tignanello are about to take their toll all over the floor. Trudeau turns round to see Boris rocking backwards and forwards in his seat with mirth.

"Quel dommage!" Boris says, wiping the tears from his eyes. "It's enough to make a man piss himself, bwana!"

A broken Trudeau suddenly launches himself at the PM, overturning the table as he forces Boris to the ground and subjects him to a series of pathetic bitch slaps. Putin watches the scene from the stage, a wry smile playing about his lips.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he announces, “you’re witnessing the very definition of a neoconservative: a liberal who's just been mugged...”

Thunderous applause fills the hall, punctured by whoops and whistles. Putin turns to a green-faced Zelensky watching from the wings.

"Comrade Wolf knows who to eat," Putin quips, eyes darkening with feral intensity. He thanks the other guests for his warm reception and asks Juncker if it’s time to fire up the karaoke machine. No sooner has it been set up, Putin launches into a spirited rendition of “Yes Sir, I Can Boogie”, shaking his hips with uncharacteristic abandon.

I slip out the fire door for a cigarette, practically climbing over Pédro Sanchez and Christine Lagarde as they enjoy a good smooch on the stairs, when I discover Modi on the phone to Ram Nath Kovind, informing the president in no uncertain terms that if he expects his PM to spend the next summit waiting on people all night then he can fuck right off.

He finishes his call and I offer him a cigarette, which he almost burns right down to the filter with one drag. I ask him if the G20 is doomed to failure because everyone's pulling in different directions and protecting their own interests, but he tells me he's had a hard night looking after self-important pricks like me so I can shove my geopolitical musings up my fat, pampered arse.

With that, the fire door suddenly swings open to reveal a shirtless Trump, breathless with excitement.

"Where the fuck have you been, Dicky Boy?" he pants. "You're missing the party! Merkel's just done a striptease to Nicki Minaj, and now she's firing apples out of her pussy..."

Introducing the WordJam Message Board!

Lonely this Christmas? Fed up arguing with friends and family members about gender pronouns or the pros and cons of Brexit? Perhaps you just wish the festive season would GET A FUCKING MOVE ON so you can get back to normality for another year, away from the orgy of commercial excess, faux-spirituality and asinine trivia?

Either way, the WordJam Message Board is here to help! You're just one click away from making new friends, discovering whole new vistas of philosophical thought, and maybe even a renewed sense of purpose in this crazy, unpredictable world of ours. So what are you waiting for? Log in to join the conversation now!

* * * * *

Today's topic: Will you watch the Queen's speech this year? 

JUstinBieberLover3988864592 - December 22, 18:43

Y shud we hav to here wat that misererble old witch ses jus cos its her birthday? 

MelGibsonIsGod - December 22, 18:44

Its Jesuses birthday, retard.

JUstinBieberLover3988864592 - December 22, 18:50
oh yeh

RainbowPrincess456 - December 22, 19:06
The next Queen should be Trans like Princess Michael. The lack of LGBTQIA+ representation in the British royal family is disgusting. The only openly non-heteronormative sovereign we've had was Edward II, and he got a red-hot poker shoved up his arse.

WhoWatchesTheWatchmen9/11 - December 22, 19:11
Wonder if (((Jeffrey Epstein))) ever visited Buckingham Palace? Home of the (((Saxe-CoB(E)RGS)))! While we're on the subject, do we know if (((Prince Andrew))) is friends with (((George Soros))) and (((Mark Zuckerberg)))? Does he own a (((Soda Stream))), or does he just like (((JUICE)))? The (((Queen))) must tell us: (((she))) can't (((hide))) the (((truth))) any (((more))).

RussiaBot1917 - December 22, 19:16
How can Jesus exist if we have dinosaurs? Evolution, peeps. Watch Jurassic Parck.

FrogoBaggins6699 - December 22, 19:21
Jurassic park is a piece of shit. Totally unbelievable and just stupid. Theres more evidence that hobbit's exist than dinosaur's.

justiceleague11939 - December 22, 19:22
What's you're evidence?

RussiaBot1917 - December 22, 19:23
Yeah.

FrodoBaggins6699 - December 22, 21:04
Neeanderthals, stupid.

MelGibsonIsGod - December 22, 21:05
Theres nosuch thing as dinosores or neelanderthals. Read yore bible idiots.

FrodoBaggins6699 - December 22, 21:06
Fuck you, jesus boy.

MelGibsonIsGod - December 22, 21:07
Thats offensive.

FrodoBaggins6699 - December 22, 21:11
Its not offensive its FACT. We got bone's for neanderthaal's but no bones for jesus.

justiceleague11939 - December 22, 21:17
Maybe Jesus was a Metahuman like Wonderwoman or Aqua Man?

RussiaBot1917 - December 22, 21:18
Or Superman.

justiceleague11939 - December 22, 21:23
Super Man isn't a Metahuman. He's from Krypton.

RussiaBot1917 - December 22, 21:24
Same diff.

justiceleague11939 - December 22, 21:26
It's not the same. Metahuman's are born on Earth. Super Man come's from an other planet.

MelGibsonIsGod - December 22, 21:28
Jesus didnt come from a nother planet. Hes from heaven.

FrodoBaggins6699 - December 22, 21:31
Youre missing the point. Jurassic park is unbelievable and hobbits exist. Accept it.

JUstinBieberLover3988864592 - December 22, 23:49

They shud dig up prinsess diana an clone her. she wouldnt mind.

Anyone want to buy some books?

 

Somehow I don't think I'll have much use for these any more.