Outrage as Jeremy Corbyn suspected of not having ‘LEST WE FORGET’ tattooed along the top of his cock

Jeremy Corbyn sparked fury today as it emerged that he was vanishingly unlikely to have any kind of statement supporting Our Brave Lads And Lasses indelibly marked into the north-facing portion of his old chap. 

According to an exclusive report by the Daily Express, the words ‘lest we forget’ do not appear anywhere along the leader of the opposition’s sexmeat, and he almost certainly hasn’t scratched all three verses of ‘In Flanders Fields’ into his liver-spotted torso with a kitchen knife.

Following yesterday’s Remembrance Sunday service, at which Mr Corbyn was dressed appropriately, fully poppied up and not apparently nursing a massive fucking hangover, attention turned to any other way he might conceivably have been betraying his naked contempt for our Courageous Troops.

Initial anger was directed at the flagrantly disrespectful angle of the soldier-hating commie’s head during the two minutes’ silence that traditionally follows the Prime Minister’s laying of the upside down wreath. Enraged onlookers reported seeing a disgusting two inches of available space between Mr Corbyn’s chin and chest, clearly indicating an obvious desire to back out an allotment veg-rich turd directly onto the steps of the cenotaph.

Wayne Pratt, an enthusiastic devourer of right wing diarrhoea from Ipswich, said,

“I’m fucking sick of this. It’s every year. First he wore a coat like he was some kind of 70-year-old man who needs to keep warm, then he wasn’t wearing the poppy he was definitely wearing, and now he shows up bowing his head at a perfectly normal angle like he’s thinking about defiling the corpses of servicemen. I’m definitely voting for the Brexit Party now.”

Sheila Sweals, who buys the Express for the TV guide and not the frequent outbursts of unconcealed racism, concurred,

“The cock thing was the final straw for me, to be honest,” she lied. “If he’s got nothing to hide, why doesn’t he just show us? The very fucking least the marrow-scoffing twat needs to do now is have a six-inch wide poppy leaf branded onto each arsecheek, and even then, I’d still find a way to hate him for it.”

We approached Mr Corbyn’s office for comment, but his spokesperson said they did not wish to ‘dignify the allegations with a response’.

Which is almost certainly some kind of Marxist code for, “He’s in Normandy pissing on graves.”

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