England is left disappointed after discovering the proposed 12 hour World Cup celebration on Sunday, whereby all criminal activity was to have been temporarily allowed, has now been cancelled. The wave of gleeful destruction was hotly anticipated, with murder, rape, vandalism, arson, robbery and torture among the many acts that would have been legally permitted without fear of punishment or retribution.
It is yet another U-turn by embittered Prime Minister Teresa May, who had originally proposed the 12 hour window of guilt-free-range psychosis in a desperate bid to restore her popularity, or at least buy her a few spit-free weeks.
The half-day of open season mayhem had been proposed to salve the nation’s bruised ego, after fears that we were sliding into a depression so great not even a Royal Wedding could swing the mood for long. Under the umbrella excuse of sports love, celebrations were to allow citizens to vent frustrations, settle long term scores and smear themselves with excrement without fear of humiliation or responsibility, enabling a return to down trodden lives with a proud smile the next day.
Unfortunately, without the ability to purge, the nation faces a return to fears and anger over Brexit, the inevitable destruction of the NHS, a slide into Victorian era poverty and a vague feeling we were wrong for believing what the papers told us.
The cancellation has been applauded by human rights groups, who had attempted to advise ‘Mayhem’ such a ‘purge’ could cause the end of days for the beloved Empire, noting a civilisation’s demise is historically telegraphed by a descent into sodomy and cannibalism – both of which were expected to occur in abundance. “No country is better than a bad country,” May had retorted from the safety of her underground bunker.
Si ‘Simon’ Cheesesmith has been particularly upset by the last minute cancellation, realising he’ll soon have to forsake an adopted Croydenesque mockney patter to return to bland Home Counties diction now the football season is no longer coming home. “I was really looking forward to smashing up that French cafe down the road,” he said. “I like me mussels, and I’d ‘ave luvved to to give that waitress one up the tradesmens… uh, I mean… now I guess I’ll have to keep on being polite to her.”
“FML. I feel like even more of a choad than usual now.”