Frankie Boyle - Scotland’s Jesus

Then Cameron and Prince Harry appeared together in the US. They were promoting the UK, although they missed the chance to use the slogan, ‘Never a better time to visit . . . as right now we’re not there.’ They toured New York on a double-decker bus, allegedly the first time since last year’s trip to Vegas Harry had heard someone shout, ‘Room for one more on top!’ Presumably, the idea of sending over a prince and a millionaire Etonian to try to persuade US businesses to invest in the UK was to make them think they can slash labour costs as we’ve still got feudalism. The Prime Minister announced Britain has clinched a deal with a US drugs giant to become a global test site for medicines. A global test site for medicines? That sounds pretty sinister. We could unwittingly become a nation of compliant drones, medicated to be distracted by shiny irrelevance while our rulers do as they please. When did they start?

I read an article in the Guardian recently about universities being corrupted by accepting money from fossil-fuel com-panies. I agree, but what about the Guardian accepting advertising money from those companies, or the ones that make cars or sell flights? Or what about the fact that it’s printed on a tree? * * Hopefully, you’re reading this on a Kindle or similar so it’ll seem a lot less hypocritical of me. Those things are so far off the agenda that you’d look crazy just for bringing them up. But that’s because the press set their own agenda and their inherent contradictions obviously aren’t on it. If I were to justify myself in the way the Guardian does – I’ll do adverts for all kinds of companies but make up for it by talking about how harmful their products are in my comedy show! – I’d be considered at best a hypocrite, and perhaps even some kind of a lunatic. It’s worth remembering that much as we say we like to see orthodoxies challenged, we usually mean other people’s orthodoxies .

I don’t fly anywhere, or drive, and the whole fixed-grin, let’s-pretend-it’s-not-happening approach to global warming has given my adult life the sinister air of mid-period Hitchcock. It’s a big reason I’ve never really felt I fit in with other comedians. It’s hard to buy into anyone’s carefully presented self-image when they take long-haul flights to international festivals every year. All these kooky shows about not being able to relate to your dad performed by people as indifferent to the fate of the Earth as a Dr Who villain.

It’s bizarre in an age in which we are increasingly connected that we willingly choke our planet by taking unnecessary journeys. Flights and trains are packed with business arseholes going to meet people they could Skype, who spend the whole journey calling, texting, emailing home. The ultimate aspiration is to be ‘jet set’, jumping on planes to be away from our families, with headphones on to be away from ourselves.

How much bleaker do things need to get for these guys? Extreme weather events are becoming more powerful and more frequent. Most experts believe these are due to man-made global warming, although the prevailing opinion in the US is that it’s God showing his anger at the lies spread by climate scientists. I’m sure we were all shocked by the Oklahoma tornado. Winds gusted up to 295 mph. To give that a bit of context it’s the same wind speed that sees 90 per cent of Scots reluctantly leave a beach.

Britain is to face wet summers for the next ten years. I don’t care as I’ve just invested heavily in umbrellas and sticks of rock that have baked in anti-depressants. When you cut through the stick of rock it says ‘Buy an umbrella you miserable cunt.’ It’s going to be wetter than Michael Gove’s bottom lip after a melon-eating contest. Actually, the government is forcing insurance companies to cover anyone at risk of flooding – which, if the Bible reports of Sodom are anything to go by, seems to be the entire cast of Coronation Street .

And Britain’s winters could soon be colder because of increased Arctic melting. If the Arctic thaws it could reopen the Northwest Passage, till now just the title of a particularly bleak Preston-based erotic film. A bit of snow in Britain is great. As long as you don’t want to go anywhere, come back from anywhere, leave the house or survive. The AA has warned people to take a special snow kit with them in their vehicles in winter – it comprises two bits of coal, a carrot and a scarf to make their car into a snowman.

I do my bit during the winter months, leaving out a cake I make from old bacon fat and seeds. Though a lot of the homeless are too proud to eat it. Hang it from your letterbox, then when they curl up for a post-meal nap they make a perfect draught excluder. Actually, I’ve been doing my bit for the homeless with my soup runs but to be honest I’ve never seen people so ungrateful for a bowl of gazpacho. If you’re a pensioner worried about the cold weather, do the same as my neighbour and block out draughts by leaving your mail in the letterbox.

We seem to have problems with snow every year now – isn’t it about time they started making paths out of salt? People moan when trains and flights are cancelled because of snow. It’s like what they really want is pilots to come on the radio and say, ‘Hi, it’s probably too dangerous to take off, but fuck it, let’s give it a go. Who’s with me?’

Which reminds me, I’m supposed to be talking about transport. Rail fares are up by 11 per cent but I’m not going to slag the rail companies off. Some of these new services have great views from the top deck. How do these executives come up with that figure? My best guess is that they spend most of their days on their own trains, going nowhere, staring at the tracks heading off in to the distance. Subconsciously those track lines get processed as 11 per cent. So if we want cheaper train fares in future you know what to do: if you ever find yourself travelling next to a rail executive, pluck his eyes out with your plastic M&S spoon.

Rail bosses denied they’ve consistently missed performance targets, pointing out they’ve met the most important one, to get 100 per cent of price rises arriving on time.

Some people haven’t been affected by the rise in rail fares. Justin Lee Collins, for example, won’t have to travel to work ever again. I tried travelling free by hiding in the toilet. But it was too much faff squeezing behind that panel. And by the time we’d got anywhere I was hoarse from blowing people’s hands dry.

Commuters have reacted furiously to the price rises. Many of them let their eyes glaze over as they pretend to read the Metro , lost in hypothesising the ‘maximum damage for minimum bullet’ route from their office to the roof, before emitting quiet sighs of relief as they picture being picked off by a marksman in a police helicopter.

But there’s an easy way round it. Head to a collectors’ fair and buy some Victorian tickets for the relevant line, then just by growing a huge moustache, popping on a top hat and dusting yourself in flour, pass yourself off as a ghost. Just be sure to remember to go, ‘A Kit Kat, whooooooh, and a bag of Mini-oooooooo-Cheddars . . . eddars . . . eddars . . .’ when the trolley arrives.