Its midday, June 23rd 2022 and the streets of the So-Called Caliphate of Londinistan are packed. From her bunker deep under the East london Mosque, Sharia May monitors the situation. "Oh do stop that!" she barks at Boris Johnson, who is noisily playing with his Zany Zoo Activity Cube in his Buzz Lightyear Pajamas. "Come in, come in, this is Sharia May, come in Saudi Arabia" she speaks over the transmitter. "This is the British Ambassador to Saudi Arabia speaking, are we ready to make a deal?" A voice replies. "I believe so. We are willing to sell you 90 Tsar Bombs in return for 900,000 refugees."

"I'm afraid we can't do that Mrs. May, the East Asian Alliance have constructed a Moon base. Tsar Bombs will not help us."

Sharia May turns to her Immigration Secretary, Abu Hamza, who knowingly takes a deep nod. "OK, fine. Well sell two Planet Busters, but for 100,000 refugees."

A pause.

"We have a deal. The refugees are waiting for you in boats outside the Thames Barrier" the voice says over the radio.

"And their sperm count is at least 9000x1030 sperm/litre?"

"Why of course" the voice says, audibly smiling over the radio. "Good. The festival can begin".

Meanwhile, two knobbly hands. One masterfully spreads jam over a slice of toast, while the other grips a can of Tenents Special Brew. "Sir, are we ready?" a voice calls out. "Yes McDonnell, we can begin" the owner of the hands states, a smile creeping across his bearded face. There is a great cacophony of whirring machines, and a giant black pyramid rises from Trafalgar Square. "Oh Jeremy Corbyn, ohhh Jeremy Corbyn!" a great crowd outside screams. Jeremy walks onto the balcony and settles his brew on the railings. He raises his arms and gazes out at the crowd.