BEYONCE’S BITCHIN’ PREDICTIONS

 

2011 has been a strange year. We’ve had protests that turned into riots. We’ve had media moguls and banks quite frankly taking the piss. But I expect 2012 will get even worse.

 

Here are my top predictions for 2012:

 

David Cameron will be forced to declare war on the EU. He’ll personally be on the frontline, fighting the fanged zombie hordes of Angela Merkel and Nicolas Sarkozy.

 

Ed Milliband will discover his spine in a jar at Unison’s head office.

 

Bank chiefs will be forced to do charity work during the day and prostitution with ageing, overweight oil barons and Middle Eastern prices during the night.

 

The Church of England, excommunicated by the international Anglican Church, will change its recruitment strategy. The official outfit will be pink with feather boas, and ceremonies will be conducted with a lisp.

 

After tablet computers did away with laptops, the next step will be computers implanted in the brain. Facebook adverts will be beamed right into your skull as impulses to buy, buy, buy! Your heart will be replaced with an Apple logo and your brain with an iPod on constant shuffle.

 

We’ve had cats in wheelie bins. For 2012, we’ll have pandas in blenders.

 

Spurred on by her success with the Gurkhas, Joanna Lumley will take on the responsibility of reforming the NHS. She’ll also sort out public sector pensions and outdrink Maggie Thatcher in a game of competitive absinthe shots to the death. She will promptly be elected Prime Minister of the United Kingdom.

 

Pippa Middleton and J-Lo will have a booty-off. J-Lo will get bounced against the wall like a tennis ball, and will get brain damage as a result. Her following album will actually be pretty good.

 

Terrorists will blow up the ITV studios. Because it’s shit.

 

Rupert Murdoch will be forced to do community service. Since he knows so much about telephones, he’ll be shackled to a desk at O2’s technical support centre for the rest of his life. His son will also be forced to do those ‘This is the O2 voicemail for xxx’, but instead of simply recording the message, he’ll have to do it live and personally answer everybody’s answer phones (without hearing the messages that follow afterwards, of course).