What would Britain be without paedophile rings?
We are the Village Green Preservation Society: Warwick’s chief assailant for social conservatism on campus. Stifling conversation since 1968.
You may well have spotted us outside the Chaplaincy on a fair Wednesday afternoon, offing up a free lunch and a ruddy good dressing down. No, not that sort of dressing down. None of that Papal buggery. Not here. Just a jolly good chat about rugger, a prawn sandwich and the profound realisation that no matter what you do — you’ll never be good enough for God. Just like you’ll never be good enough for mummy and daddy. Nor Oxford for that matter.
Not to fear. That’s why we, the Village Green Preservation Society, have been conceived. We’re here to give our socially awkward, socially inept, socially conservative membership the reassuring pat on the bottom chops that they require. This is nothing like the time Mother conceived William (the career wrecking, inheritance stealing, last rasher of bacon having piece of shit) – we have a purpose.
Our purpose is as simple as it is pure: to rid Warwick of those denim donning, dope smoking, sane-minded secularists.
Blast their freedom of speech and blast their freedom of choice.
Where is their humanity? How dare they help the homeless? How dare they help the animals? How ruddy dare they stand up to privilege and prejudice?
God made money to be hoarded. God made animals to be eaten. God made private schools. God made Great chuffing Britain Christ-dammit.
Leamington’s green and pleasant parks are being littered by bearded lolly-gaggers. Some call themselves students, some call themselves homeless. Either way they need to get on their bike and ride and ride until they find themselves gainful employment.
In the words of Norman Tebbit: ‘My father got on his bike and looked for a job’.
If it’s good enough for Mr Tebbit then it’s good enough for me. Stop loitering upon Leamington’s lawns you cretinous vegans, the Times’ they are-a Changin’.
Talking of vegans, one can’t even get a good cup of Earl-Grey these days without being assaulted by an undernourished bearded horde of indolent liberals, filling up the tea-rooms with their weak, translucent green piss.
It’s a good thing that Christians aren’t judgemental.
It’s a good thing that the Village Green Preservation Society are here to fill you with self-righteousness and to restore your rightful sense of entitlement.
One can never have too much of a good thing; good cricket, good grammar schools, good old-fashioned slap and tickle.
Great Britain was built upon these things. What would we be without casual racism, sexism and nepotism? What would we be without all the extra-marital affairs, dinner clubs, paedophile rings and the Christian Union?
This would be a vapid grey land. A land without character, a land without class and most of all, a land without that most virtuous characteristic of contradiction.
God save contradiction.
We are the last of the steam-powered trains and we shall keep chugging on.
God save strawberry jam and all the different varieties.
God save the George’s Cross, and all those who were awarded them.
God save Tudor houses, antique tables, and billiards.
God save the Queen.
God save the village green.
The Chingford Skinhead
Prime-Minister of the Village Green Preservation Society