BROKEN NEWS: Tory MP admits Committee Candy Crush Campaign

Inexperienced tablet basher and Conservative MP, Nigel Mills, admitted to playing the colourful puzzler, Candy Crush Saga, in a Work and Pensions Committee meeting. The MP confessed to equally pointless time-sink The Sun that he may have played “a game or two” while discussing reforms with pension industry representatives.

However, it was confirmed this morning that the embarrassed politician was attempting to crack level 65, after it was revealed that the PM had set level 120 as the minimum entry requirement for a cabinet position in the coalition government.

“I managed to get through levels 60 to 64 fairly quickly, using my last jazzy and a couple of free switches. But now I’m stuck on 65 with only a coconut wheel booster available and, let’s be honest, nobody understands what those fucking things even do.”

The Prime Minister, and handheld-fiddling procrastination aficionado, David Cameron reaffirmed his stance on his MPs’ inclusion in the Tory party.

“We don’t allow an MP to stand for a parliamentary seat without making it to at least level 50. I mentioned to Nigel Mills that he had been stuck on 52 for months, so I’m encouraged to hear he’s been investing some time in this worthwhile cause.”

He later added: “We know hard-working families want to see that their representatives can navigate their way through Easter Bunny Hills, without wasting tax-payer-funded lollipop hammers.”

It’s thought that Nick Clegg recently passed through Gingerbread Glade, though there were questions over a suspicious expenses claim for “a packet of chewing gum”, that could have been a payment used to bypass the meringue and liquorice shitstorm that is level 125.

The House of Commons authorities have since launched an investigation into whether Nigel Mills has contravened parliamentary guidelines. A spokesperson stated that there was concern Mr Mills has misled the authorities on his progress in Candy Crush Saga.

“We’re investigating whether the MP for Amber Valley has conflated his advance in the Dreamworld and main storylines. Everyone knows that the Dreamworld storyline is bullshit. Odus the Owl is an abomination.”

Members of the public voiced their outrage on social media, citing the controversy as another hit on the integrity of politicians, especially in the wake of the expenses scandal.

“As soon as I heard about it, at work this morning, I immediately spent 2 hours sending Nigel Mills abusive messages on Twitter,” said @ragesack229. “He’s meant to be working and instead he’s wasting his time. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s hypocrisy.”

In other news, George Osborne finally submitted a helpdesk call with IT in a desperate bid to have them restart the economy.

You Gotta Do, What You Gotta Do

I found myself watching Katy Perry’s Part of Me. Not the part I’d hoped, instead, her life story up to her 29th year. The soaring heights of a sell-out tour and whirlwind romance with foul-thoughted, bo-ho lothario, Russell Brand, and the stifling lows of continuing on a sell-out tour while her marriage split, rather predictably, asunder. To say it was a rollercoaster ride, would seriously undermine Alton Towers’ marketing strategy. In her magnum opus, Firework, Perry asks us if we, “ever feel like a plastic bag, drifting through the wind, wanting to start again?”

No.

The next day, my girlfriend and I had planned to visit the site of the Bristol Balloon Fiesta, and by sheer coincidence, the darn thing was on at the same time. We left the house on Saturday evening, hoping to reach Ashton Court in time for the famous nightglow. For the uninitiated, the nightglow sees the illumination of barely coordinated bags of hot air for the purposes of entertainment, a bit like Prime Minister’s Questions. I didn’t want to go, but I had to out of some misguided sense of duty.

Today, I had a nosebleed that lasted for almost half an hour. I felt like a depressed celebrity, but with the life leaking out of my nose, while I hid in a toilet so nobody could see my secret shame. I usually have very good bodily control, I can count the times I’ve lost control of my urethral sphincter on two hands, my anal sphincter just once. I should make it clear I had eaten some dodgy mussels, it wasn’t like I’d just got sloppy. It was a grim day, I had to print new business cards.

That last example was truly tenuous, misleading even. But my point is, I very rarely, if ever, do something I don’t want to unless I have a good reason. Whether it’s because of my friends and family, out of some form of duty, or just because my body says it’s time, there is still a reason.

So, when a politician pushes green issues with one hand, and backs the relentless hunt for mainland gas supplies with the other, I mean, fracking hell Dave! I’m not necessarily for or against its use or extraction, it’s the two-faced hypocrisy.

Someone thought it was a good idea to have vans roam the home counties asking illegal immigrants to go home. Someone genuinely thinks this is the right thing to do. In my view, these vans could be better used. When I’m out, having had a few too many drinks, I could use a gentle reminder that a warm bed awaits me at home. “LEE, YOU’RE DRUNK,” the sign would patronise appropriately, “GO HOME BEFORE YOU DO SOMETHING YOU REGRET. AND NO, YOU DON’T WANT A KEBAB.”

When the government announced plans to effectively privatise the NHS, I could think of no positive outcome, no silver lining. I can’t even imagine that someone thinks there is a greater good in play here, this can only be icy cool, calculated greed. There is no, “Well I don’t want to do it, but in the end we’ll all be better off.” Borderline sociopathic.

It’s enough to give you a bad back, eh Dave?