Bong! No, This Isn't Big Ben, But Close Enough.

Rwanda, who needs it when we have our own islands dotted around. Take Steep Holm, for instance.

Scheisse, merda, mierda, and more. Whatever way you call it, we're deep in it. Providing your memory takes you as far back as yesterday's blog, you'll recall me pointing out how the clueless and self-destructive-driven Tories are doing their very best to win the 'World Championship Haplessness' trophy for political ineptitude, although, in fewer words, I admit.

Nonetheless, the continuing Tory campaign for why none of us should vote Tory carries on, full steam ahead with the migrant scheme like money is no object at all: and it isn't, because we are awash with the stuff, aren't we? We have so much of it, that our health and social care is the best in the world, our military has everything needed at its disposal, our road networks are brilliant, our schools the most modern and properly funded, and violent crime - what's that? In fact, I'd even go so far as to say that this is the best country in the world, ever, and why so many migrants choose to make such perilous journies through so many countries just to visit our little islands.

As you know, they come in their thousands to fix our potholes, repair our falling apart hospitals and schools, modernise our ancient and ever-failing national water and sewage infrastructure, pick our crops, and more. Like, useful things that enable us to live in a modern and civilised society, just as we've helped some of their countries out in many different ways over the years........haven't we? No!

You mean, we, the British taxpayer have been shelling out shed loads in billions from our hard-earned income for all these years for foreign aid, and in doing so turned our backs on our own people so these ingrates can come over here and not do a damn thing for us? Well, knock me down with a feather! Who knew?

Have you any idea at all as to how difficult it is for me to eat, drink, and even speak with my tongue firmly embedded in one cheek? No, you say! Then I will happily accept all charitable donations from you that'll enable me to enjoy a normal life again, just like you do. However, no doubt you've already committed some of your hard-earned to all manner of charities that go towards feeding the world's less fortunate who queue at foodbanks the length and width of Britain, don't you?

Meanwhile, back to reality, even though it may all seem like a bad dream, this government is so fixed on steamrollering through by any and all means, the Rwanda project, that all sensibility has been lost by a Prime Minister who, through regularly fasting from Sunday to Tuesday has deprived his brain of the necessary oxygen to make rational decisions, it seems; and by all accounts, it's catching.

William Swag, for instance. Does he fast too? If so, it may well be the alibi he needs for his delusional episode that'll get him off the hook completely, because he's also TORY! Not that I would ever cast aspersions, of course. Just saying that making irrational judgments that eventually bypass our laws do seem to be a viral thing in the Tory family of national politics. Or, is that just my thinking?

Imagine waking up one morning bursting with such revolutionary inspiration that you go to work on a complete high, excited that your one and only overarching thought to present to colleagues in full expectation that you're entire team will be as excited as you in announcing to the nation a £180 million cost per asylum seeker? My thoughts wander in the direction of there being a Tory party bong somewhere in the bowels of Parliament where the top few pile in for a toke when they seek inspiration for a new idea or elaborate on an existing one - such as £180 million per asylum seeker. Meanwhile, they all at some point in their day will casually pass by with glazed eyes one, or more of those invisible homeless people on the streets of London who are blatantly conspicuous by their presence to everyone else.

At a mere snip of £1.2 billion, we're renting the Bibby Stockholm in Portland our government could have purchased The Oasis of the Seas, a luxury cruise ship that cost a bargain price of $1.2 billion to build. Meanwhile, I've done some homework and sourced an accommodation barge for 300 people that's for sale via a broker in Monaco and my guess is it'll cost far less than £1.2 billion to purchase, by a boatload of millions! Still, never mind, as long as those at government level continue to hold the purse strings everything's okay. All we have to do next is scrap the National Anthem for a happier, and more positive tune that we can all enjoy singing along to every day for the rest of our lives, such as -

"Don't worry about a thing,

'Cause every little thing

gonna be all right.

Singin': "Don't worry about a thing,

'Cause every little thing

gonna be all right!"

Thanks, Bob Marley. Can you imagine Sushi Risnak waking up one morning bursting with such revolutionary inspiration while singing this as he shaves his perfect face? No, me neither. Nonetheless, anything would be an improvement on the way things are going at the moment, wouldn't it? Even dare I say, a new Prime Minister? It's been so long I've now forgotten who the old one is it's that far back. Blair, does this name ring bells with anyone? Ah well, be that as it may, do you not think us taxpaying idiots at the very bottom of the food chain who vote for these cretins would come up with far better schemes than those who are paid eyewatering amounts compared to the likes of you and me?

Not that it would ever count for anything, being that I don't have the ear of those in higher echelons, however, I could personally save us all billions at the stroke of a pen if I was running government procurement. Forgetting Rwanda completely, we should scrap our losses and look much closer to home. Not far from me in the Bristol Channel, there's a lovely little island currently inhabited by seagulls that'd be perfect. If you've never heard of Steep Holm I recommend you do some homework, it'd be GREAT for migrants! Excited? Excellent, then I'll tell you more.

Covering just over 48 acres of idyllic greenery the island is steeped in history that's believed to hark back to the Stone Age, and further on from that the Vikings used it as a base from which to raid the mainland; and with Bristol doing a roaring trade in slavery with Dublin at that time, Steep Holm would have provided the perfect stop-off point for those raping and pillaging Norwegians, and Danes too (in the interest of equality and diversity, you understand), to enjoy a few pints of whatever Bristol beverage was available by the barrel, before continuing their journey, all bevvied up, to Ireland. At which point I'll cut an even more interesting and longer story short, and get to the fly in the ointment.

This being that Steep Holm now belongs to a Trust, damn them! Otherwise, the lucky migrants would be very happy here, I'm sure. With thousands of those pesky seagulls to barbecue, there would be no shortage of fresh meat, and praise would be heaped on them by those in places such as Weston-Super-Mare for no longer having their fish and chips swooped on before the wooden fork made it to their mouths.

So, with coastal pests taken care of, that's one benefit to highlight. Rabbits, there must be an abundance of rabbits to breed and eat too. Now, I see a potential business opportunity here already because, going way, way, way back when the island was populated by Augustinian monks, warreners bred rabbits for meat, and fur to trim the robes of noblemen. That being the case, I can see a Dragons Den opportunity for migrants to earn money by making all manner of clothes and accessories with rabbit pelts. Or, is this not allowed nowadays?

Anyway, as for the meat, I'm sure many a daytripper on the good ship Waverly would welcome a taste of living the wilderness life and sitting around a campfire sharing rabbit stew with the inhabitants during our glorious summer months, before being guided around the island (for a few quid, of course!) to see the vistas this island presents of the Somerset and Welsh coastlines that are entirely inaccessible to the inhabitants themselves without firstly taking Olympic grade swimming lessons. No doubt having already championed the tides of the English Channel, anything is possible, of course.

However, given the peace and tranquillity that Steep Holm has to offer, that's so far removed from the four-star hotels of the mainland why would anyone even consider it? The government could just parachute in a few hundred tents, a carton or two of matches for firelighting, some sleeping bags, and Bob's your uncle. The rest is pretty much self-catering.

This, of course, is just one island from a selection of many dotted around our vast coastline to consider as a more practical and less costly alternative to sending migrants off to Rwanda.

Now, where did I put my bong?

Wait, there’s more! Oh no, you say. Oh yes, I say, and I can pretty much guarantee it would probably send an insomniac off to sleep for their best night ever! How exciting is that? Go, grab a copy before the world runs out of paper. Me boook!