To celebrate our 6 month anniversary, we take a look back at the worst year in living memory with some of our very worst memes. Keen observers will have noticed that The Daily Distress doesn’t have a graphic designer on board and that memes really aren’t our speciality.
With a fat orange freak in the White House and a complete and utter Johnson in number 10, we wondered what a visiting alien might say if he had the misfortune to land on Earth. It was a bit of a no-brainer, like this feeble attempt at a meme.
A Bit too Cryptic (3)?
Okay, we get it, memes shouldn’t really come with instructions like this one did. This was our post-U.S. election reunification word-search. There are ten negative descriptions of the hippoPOTUS and ten positive ones, so everyone can play along. There is a joke in there but only one person spotted it.
There was a minor kerfuffle about a virus of some sort. Rather than buying a functional track and trace system to control it, Britain decided to let it spread like wildfire and then respond with a series of ineffective lockdowns. This was our somewhat miffed response to our local being closed whilst Timmy Brexitspoon’s booze-barns were allowed to stay open.
Meanwhile, in Moscow, the normally admirable Mr Putin reminded us that the west doesn’t have an exclusive monopoly on fatal stupidity.
This exercise in existential realism caused a little confusion. Some people decided that it must be an oblique reference to a particular footballer and proceeded to debate on who it might be whilst missing the broader point.
This isn’t a meme at all, it’s an advertisement. Please consider buying your last-minute Christmas presents through this link. This garbage doesn’t host itself.
Remember those godawful logos on the press-conference lecterns? Crap, weren’t they? We thought the whole thing would be infinitely more cheerful if Derek Griffiths was singing the slogans. And for once, we were probably right.
We were only supposed to blow our bloody feet off!
The undoubted story of the year was Britain’s cunning plan to solve the problems of globalisation by building a wall around itself and crying like a maladjusted five-year-old. A plan so simple that even the Conservative Party couldn’t mess it up. Or could they? Determined to ignore reality, the lemmings marched boldly onwards, splitting infinitives along the way.
What started out as a simple attempt to burn billions of pounds in order to teach Johnny Foreigner a lesson, soon turned into an unseemly brawl at Billingsgate market. The Fishwives’ favourite, Monsieur Nigel Farage, declared that the whole thing was really about fish. The fish, needless to say, were somewhat bemused.
We sometimes get criticised for making fun of John Redwood. People tell us that we shouldn’t mock the afflicted, but seeing as he spends so much time doing it himself, we like to think that we’re simply helping him out.
What did you do in the Culture Wars, Daddy?
As Harrovian yobbo Lance Flitwitt and failed reality TV show contestant Katie Bobbins led the campaign for the right to be mindlessly offensive, we cheered them on with a celebration of right-wing comedy.
The One that Got Away
We did our best, but our campaign to bring back Lolcats sparked absolutely zero interest. Maybe because it was rubbish. Even a crusading newspaper like The Daily Distress can’t win ’em all.
A Cheery Message for the New Year
Things may look grim, right now, but we’re always there with a message of hope.
Thanks to everyone (and we do mean both of you) who has read our humble paper over the last six months. We wish you a wonderful Yule-tide and a survivable new year. Stay safe, stay distressed and don’t let ’em grind you down!