Roses 2015: Something closely resembling coverage (virtually live)


A battle which has lasted throughout the ages. A clash of long dead kings, a storm of spectral swords which live on in the hands of university students from literally every corner of Surrey.

This weekend will see many firsts, but one which towers above the others by comparison. UoY satire magazine The Lemon Press will attempt to cover proceedings in a confused, drink sodden haze.

Join us across the weekend as we desperately refresh roses live for the score, generally look out of place and, as always, attempt to kill Hitler.


NewsRind – Week 10 Spring Term 2015

This will change your life. It will inspire you. It will also make multiple false promises. The Lemon Press has now branched out from mere paper – we have graduated into the confusing and scary world of YouTube.

So, we are proud to present the pilot episode of Newsrind! Enjoy, and may the zest be with you.


On March 22nd a coffin arrived at Leicester Cathedral to a great crowd of black-clad mourners. The body held within? Our glorious nation’s beloved monarch, Elizabeth Windsor, dead at the sprightly young age of 88.

But while we pay our respects and shed our tears we must remain vigilant. Beyond the considerable threat of Charles’ succession, the details of her Majesty’s death simply don’t add up. Where were her doctors in all this; are we expected to believe that she just keeled over on a royal whim? Why, of all places, was the corpse found in a car park in Leicester? If the Queen had died of natural causes, as we are no doubt expected to believe, why was she not sitting comfortably in Buckingham Palace, stroking corgis and eating swans? But the most damning evidence of all has been saved for last. The scientists in charge of analysing the corpse are confirmed to have found a number of knife and sword wounds to her skull that leave no question about it.

Quite simply, we here at the Lemon Press must conclude that our gracious Queen was murdered. God save her soul, for he seems to have let down her body.

I ask you, what sort of society allows its beloved queen to be murdered in cold blood and dumped under the tarmac like some common trade union leader? If you ask me, the blame should be placed at the feet of those damn dirty immigrants. Who else has the work ethic to dig up a car park for the sake of a single murder these days? Charles hasn’t the brainpower and nobody else hates England enough to do the deed! It’s because of these sorts of people, with their turbans and their Polish-ness that we need good, strong intervention to keep troublemakers out of our…

What do you mean the funeral wasn’t for Elizabeth?

YUSU Election Results Liveblog


Join student satirical buffoons The Lemon Press as they attempt to provide pithy commentary to the results of our unions annual plebiscite. What revelations will be unearthed? Who will emerge triumphant from the crucible of democracy and who will be cast down from the mountain back into the primordial mire of campus anonymity.

For reference, our commentators are Deputy Editor’s Branden Lynn and Alex Lusty. News and Politics Editor Gabriel Bramley, Secretary Ananna Zaman, Tech Editor Callum Sharp, Lunatic Greg Waddell, Person Rosa Hansell and General Fellow Morgan Barker-Thorne.

Lemon Press Chair Tom Davies will also be manning our Twitter feed at

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Superbowl Live Blog 2015: Repent ye Sinners the Sport Cometh for Ye

In the beginning God created the universe, then he created Cutters Choice Hand Rolling Tobacco (the following live blog is sponsored by Cutters Choice Hand Rolling Tobacco). This festival of incompetent, drunken sports reporting is brought to you by The Lemon Press, now the UK’s premier student satire magazine and the following people: Tom Davies, Chair. Jake Roper, Editor. Billy Blake turned up late and useless. Gabriel Bramley, Manservant to the Chair. Alex Lusty, Deputy Editor. Callum Gearing, Politics Editor. Ben Walker, Known communist sympathiser. Branden “Brendan” Lynn, Deputy Editor, Callum Sharp, risen from the ranks. Alex Radford, resident Lemon Press philosopher. Chris Banyard, guy and Jonathan Legrand, Treasurer and phishing kingpin.20150202_003559

Lord Brittan dead at 75


Caption redacted for legal reasons.

Conservative* <redacted for legal reasons> Lord Brittan has died at the age of 75** after a long battle with <redacted for legal reasons>. Brittan enjoyed a long and illustrious career first as a <redacted for legal reasons> before going on to serve as <redacted for legal reasons> and then for many years as <redacted for legal reasons>. In his spare time he enjoyed <definitely redacted for legal reasons> and is survived by his <redacted for legal reasons> and two <redacted for legal reasons>.

*Are we sure about that? Don’t want to get sued.
**See above.

University of York English Students Complain

Students of English and Related Literature at the University of York have complained of ‘sarcastic’ and ‘illegible’ comments on receipt of their work. After waiting endless days and penning terrible poetry, the student body has hit out at university staff, saying it’s just not on.

‘The comment was written entirely in Klingon,’ said one student, who wished to remain anonymous to protect his on-line reputation. ‘I couldn’t believe it,’ said another second-year student, ‘they just told me that I had an awful personality and that my taste in literature was ‘anachronistic’ – and it was written in Sanskrit.’

One student was particularly annoyed. James, a second-year student from Constantine said: ‘he didn’t even write anything constructive on mine. He just scrawled a massive penis with a picture of Emily Dickinson’s face on the end.’

The emotional outburst comes after the English and Related Literature department changed the way in which they mark assessments. A representative from the department said, ‘Yeah, we changed it to prevent us doing too much work. I have a lot to read. I mean, a lot. Haven’t you seen my Goodreads account? There is a lot.’

Students were reminded that bothering the administrative body gets you nowhere: ‘if we don’t even read your work do you really think we’re going to listen to you? Come back when you’re as posh as James Blunt, and then you might have a shot in the arts world,’ proclaimed one faculty member.


Joe Williams

Farage Warns of Xmas Immigration

After the veritable torrents of Romanians pouring into our country back on January 1st, UKIP Nigel Farage has forewarned that 2015’s immigration spike is predicted to come as early as the 25th of this month.

Following Lapland’s new EU privileges, Farage warns the public of a rapid influx of “judgemental” Nordic immigrants that could leave Britain’s economy “with just a single lump of coal”.

“Of course I would be nervous about one of them living next door,” Farage commented, “it’s just a matter of time before they slip in through my chimney and fuel their alcoholism with a glass of my brandy, but not before ransacking my root vegetables for their elk or whatever else passes for housepets back in jingle jingle land.”

Farage ended the conference with more concerns for 2015, “don’t even get me started on springtime immigration from the Middle East. I’m not up for a visit from the Easter Sunni.”

Pasky Miranda 

On the Frontline: Coventry

It is important this Christmas to remember those less privileged than yourselves. Those forced to live in misery in war zones around the world. Spare a thought for those forced at Christmas to survive through confined conflicts, seen only at this time. I’m referring, of course, to extended family meals, and the poor souls who endure them, every year.

They start, innocently enough, with a very long drive. In order to authenticate the feeling, the car must be small, but packed with presents, bags, and some form of alcohol. Throughout the extended journey to the final location, the driver will complain about their relatives, they will claim that they talk too much, are annoying, and they wish they didn’t have to go all the way there. After we had fulfilled this requirement, we arrived at our destination; middle class Coventry. Of course, as it is Christmas, we attempted to find a parking space, but could not. After over an hour of driving around, our relations finally revealed that we could park on their driveway; this results in further complaints from our driver, who swears and curses, before grudgingly driving our compact vehicle to the driveway. We are early, according to our host, despite various emails and texts telling us we are on time. We are offered drinks and seats to appease us, and all anger from our driver disappears, as they sink into (what we later discovered was) party-persona. We sit in the front room. The conversation begins poorly, politics being at the top. When asked about UKIP, a tense silence ensues, as we desperately try to figure out if our middle class, white, world weary hosts are UKIP supporters or detractors. After a floaty answer, we are relieved to discover this is a stalling tactic, not actually valid conversation, simply the illusion of such.

We quickly forget about it.

Before the arrival of other guests, we are appeased by our hosts, who seem to have no agenda. This is until we hear the terrifying news. There will be party games. Our hosts and driver head to the kitchen, while we desperately try and email our Lemon Press contacts for advice and support. Suddenly, guests arrive. Guests, at these Christmas get togethers, claim to be related to you. This relation is however notably dubious. It is impolite to ask who they are, particularly when you have met them before, therefore we remained silent. This led to a common issue, when a woman arrives, and a desperate task began to identify her. Alas, we were unable to, and we were left to decide whether finding her hot was acceptable, morally dubious, or downright incest. Finally, after being there for several hours, dinner arrives. However, like anything in this environment, it’s too good to be true. You see, the host is attempting to one-up her close relations, and therefore the food is never normal. For starters was a dish that consisted of over a dozen individual foods. Many are impossible to pronounce, almost all are foreign, and not normal foreign, obscure foreign. They don’t go together, seafood mixed with chicken mixed with fruit mixed with vegetables, and some of it isn’t even edible. The drinks are also strange, cocktails or strange, unsatisfying wine. And even then, it is difficult to reach the table, with over twenty people packed around a table designed for four.

The people next to us are strange and unfamiliar. After the main meal, that was bland compared to the starter, we reconvene for party games. We discovered that these games consisted of activities even CIA interrogators would think is a step too far. Not wanting to place our health at risk, we retired to our cramped corner room, which we assumed used to be a chimney. At dawn, the air-raid sirens wail. Our driver hurriedly wakes us, and we rush to our vehicle outside. Without warning, rockets fired from Gaza land on the next door shed. Our driver, after fleeing the area, informs us that the press were being specifically targeted. We arrive at a petrol station, and witness dozens of cars on the road. While we assumed they were simply driving, our driver informed us they are IS sympathisers, and opened fire with a concealed weapon. In summary, Christmas is shit, and we should all think about what truly awful people we are for liking it.

The fucking nerve.

Gregory Waddell

UK Government Break Newly Implemented Pornography Laws

Today, the entirety of the British government has been arrested on account of breaking several of their recently introduced pornography laws. In direct contravention to what was stipulated in the bill, BBC Parliament televised the house violently fisting Britain’s pornography industry without consent and in an abhorrent abuse of dignity, proceeded to urinate into the Freedom of Information Act’s open mouth one by one. Most alarmingly, sources claim that the bill was delivered by Eric Pickles wearing a gimp costume, hurling abuse at the beleaguered set of rights. “Yes, you take that you saucy little slut” Mr Pickles shouted “No fisting, no spanking unless I say it’s strong enough and no sex in my porn – we are not a country of degenerates!” All the while, he relentlessly flogged the industry to within an inch of it’s life.

Government spokespersons have been suspiciously silent on their salacious abuse of pornography, however, one MP was willing to buckle up his trousers, grab his walking stick and speak to our representative. Unfortunately, he gesticulated his arms in the air and screamed the words “THINK OF THE CHILDREN. WHAT IS THE INTERNET? WHERE AM I?” for half an hour before a party whip came along and told him he was in a prime position to join the House of Lords.

There are currently 3.5 million children in the UK living in relative poverty, who’s standard of living has risen dramatically since the risk of seeing a bare tit was eliminated.