Nick Knowles’s Speech in Full

07-12-2018 15:12

During his interview after being voted out of the jungle for being more insufferable than the one from Inbetweeners who won’t stop screaming, Knowles surprised a nation by delivering a cogent speech on the importance of unification in the face of a global political paradigm shift. Not wanting to gild the lily, I will post the transcript in full, but I think it’s apropos to mention that I shed big sloppy tears as Knowles powered through his prepared statement, and I have no doubt that most (if not all) of this once proud country found themselves similarly disabled.

“People of Britain. Once we used to be Great Britain, but we’re not so great anymore, are we? You’ll notice no one says Great Britain anymore and that’s because it’s more like Nasty Britain. I am Nick Knowles, look on my works, ye mighty, and be lightly entertained. I have crest the stream of many poor lives, changing them utterly by doing a week’s worth of labour on their rundown council house. I have fixed the plumbing and applied skirting boards for the weakest in our society and all I hoped for in return was a nurse on her fagbreak to turn to her colleague and say, “did you catch DIY SOS last night? I think Nick Knowles should be surpreme leader of the world.”

But never have I told my story, only aided in the telling of others’. Take Sandra, who hired an Irish bastard to tarmac her drive and all he did for a week was drink tea, occasionally smoke a joint and read pornography in her garage. He told her that he was doing surveyance whilst he was waiting for the man who delivers asphalt to turn up. Then he bolted, leaving only a ringed teastain on her kitchen table. A bit like Britain today, Sandra was left with an ugly reminder of her betrayal and a bit like Britain today, it was an Irishman’s fault. Even more so like Britain today, she was left stranded, waiting for someone to fix a mess that the builder (David Cameron) had promised would be sorted out. I helped Sandra, but I want to help the 70 million Sandras that we call British citizens all at once. I hope my time on I’m A Celebrity Get Me Out Of The Jungle has shown all you Sandras that I am a friend to all Sandras.

I have travelled widely. I have kissed the sphinx, I have kissed the Arc de Triomphe, I have even kissed Ayre’s Rock. I have kissed all these landmarks and I have learnt from their large, stony bodies. I have discovered lost civilisations and I have taught the Last Mohican how to love again. I cleaved open Tutankamun’s tomb and found a smaller, harder-to-cleave-open tomb that I could not enter and never told anyone about. I have seen past racial boundaries to the one constant beating heart that, in its singular pulsing motion, unites us. And I have seen past that again and seen the true constant; a little green imp who demands tribute in exchange for small, shiny coins. I have capitulated to the little green imp and, in exchange, he told me the moon was not real, and now I am laden with shiny coins and a knowledge that no one man should have to carry.

I watched a film and in it the main character said something like, “some men just want to watch the world burn.” I thought about it and realised I just wanted to watch the world heal. Yes, I believe that the ring of Saturn is the foreskin of Our Lord Jesus Christ that rose with him as he ascended the heaven, but I also believe that the moon is not real. There are two sides to every story. I think Queen Elizabeth II is an extraterristrial lizard who prowls the streets of London under the hood of night and drinks the blood of children, but I also think the tourism money her family brings in renders British Royalty a benign good. I listen to both sides, and then find a path in between them, and I run away down that path, escaping from the problem entirely, and I think the British public really respect that about me.

I hung out with Harry Redknapp for three weeks, and one time he said to me, “Nick, my wife really fancies you and after all of this is over, I want you to come to my house and make carnal delight with her.” You don’t hear something like that and not be forced to reconsider your place in the world.

Support the Burkas. Support the Contras. Support Joss Stone. Help the Heroes and also offer them discounts on Dignitas. Call 999 to tell the Emergency Services that you are in love with them. Fight Brexit by chaining yourself to a Waitrose. But most importantly, find where Jeremy Corbyn lives and kill him with a pointed stick.”

Wow! Nice one Nick! Maybe you could be the charasmatic figurehead of the sensible, pragmatic political party that will save us undeserving wretches from the mercilessly scratching claws of Ideology. I certainly hope so!

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