The past few months have made me painfully aware of the fact that I’m not getting younger – aches, pains, niggling illnesses which take longer and longer to get over and increasingly frequent health scares – so I’ve started training a new generation of the Sleaze family to eventually take over the site. I gave my youngest great niece a practical joke kit for her fifth birthday last month, resulting in her and her older sister spending the Easter weekend terrorising everyone with fake dog crap and whoopee cushions. A good start – give them another twenty years and I’ll be able to hand over the reins of The Sleaze with confidence. Perhaps I should move them up to those rings which squirt water next, before graduating them to fake vomit and stink bombs. By the time the oldest one is ten, I’ll have them up to electrifying door knobs, sticking potatoes up the exhaust pipes of police cars and phoning in anonymous bomb threats to airports at busy bank holiday weekends. (Obviously, for the purposes of not having the authorities ludicrously overreact and order a police raid on my house, that last part is intended as a joke – clearly, I would never be so irresponsible as to encourage children to make fake bomb threats. Posting envelopes full of white powder through your local MP’s letterbox is a far more effective hoax).

But enough of my plans to establish a ‘Sleazy Dynasty’ to ensure this site’s existence in perpetuity, let’s get back to the here and now and this editorial. The fact is that we’re nearly half-way through the year and this is only the second editorial I’ve written! Old age is clearly making me slack. That said, I generally only write six editorials in any given year. Nonetheless, that means I’m still at least one behind schedule. The sad fact is that it is becoming increasingly difficult to come up with something new and avoid repetition. I mean, there are only so many rants the human frame can endure and I fear that I’ve reached my limit. Plus, as I noted in the last editorial, lately I’ve been suffering from ‘outrage fatigue’ and finding it increasingly difficult to get wound up about things. However, there is one issue that has increasingly been bothering me: bloody foreigners. That’s right, I’m getting sick and tired of these foreign bastards coming over here and trying to undermine our good old British values. I don’t mean those Polish builders, Romanian car wash attendants and the other legions of low paid Eastern Europeans currently being ruthlessly exploited by rapacious capitalist employers. Nor do I mean all those other immigrants from Africa and Asia. The muslims don’t bother me, either. No, it is those droves of Russian oligarchs who seem to have rocked up in London. Send the bastards back!

Let me elaborate. These bastards come over here with their ill-gotten gains – usually gained through the exploitation of formerly State assets in Russia and/or criminal activity – and buy up large swathes of London, not to mention our newspapers and football clubs. If I was cynical, I’d suggest that these were nothing more than elaborate money-laundering schemes. But the worst thing about these rich foreign bastards is that, not satisfied with trying to buy our country, they then spend an inordinate amount of time banging on about what’s wrong with the UK, and what we should be doing instead. Excuse me? You are bloody guests here – if you don’t like it, then you can fuck off back home to Russia! After all, under Putin it is already the kind of intolerant, authoritarian regime masquerading as a civilised democracy you seem to think the UK should become. But enough, I say. Surely the government should take the opportunity afforded by Russia’s aggression toward Ukraine to whip up some anti-Russian feeling and use it as an excuse to kick these bastards out of the country. Except that many of them are undoubtedly major contributors to the Tory Party. Besides, this government loves foreigners. Just so long as they are rich.

Thank God for UKIP, I say. At least they have the courage to stand up and say ‘no’ to foreign interference in UK politics and an end to immigration. What’s that? It’s only the poor foreigners they want to kick out and the only foreigners they don’t want meddling in our governance are the EU? Surely it can’t be true that they are happy to accept the support and monetary contributions of wealthy foreigners living here? Indeed they are folks. In fact, UKIP just love foreign money, whether it is coming from the EU in the form of allowances paid to their MEPS (who, incidentally, don’t earn it by representing their constituents at the European Parliament – their attendance record is shockingly poor), or the donations made by their lunatic foreign backers. Because a lot of these ex-pat Russians just seem to love UKIP, which they clearly see as the perfect vehicle for advancing their political agenda to ‘reform’ the UK, relentlessly banging the drum for it. When they aren’t telling us that all of the UK’s problems stem from the fact that we’re in thrall to a ruling elite of atheist, politically correct socialists. Apparently, if we were just to let God into our hearts and stop teaching evolution in schools, the recession would be over.

To be fair, not all of UKIP’s loony foreign backers are Russian. One of the worst is Greek. You know, the shipping magnate who thinks that there is no such thing as marital rape and that women shouldn’t be allowed to wear trousers. Well, he can fuck off back home as well. Mark my words, any potential far right extremists who might be reading this, for all their anti-EU bluster, UKIP are nothing more than a Trojan horse for the interests of wealthy foreigners who want to gain influence over the UK’s political process. So, don’t vote for them. Do us all a favour and don’t vote at all, as, if you don’t vote UKIP, you’ll just waste your vote on some other bunch of loonies like the BNP or English Democrats. In fact, if you want to do something useful, instead of victimising and intimidating poor immigrants, start a campaign against these (mainly) Russian oligarchs. Hold violent demonstrations outside of their Mayfair mansions, waving placards telling them to ‘Go Home’. I suppose I can expect a visit from the police now, as this is bound to have upset someone in UKIP. Then again, that presupposes any of them can read… ‘Til the next time, keep it sleazy!

Doc Sleaze