A
History
of
British
Satire:
From
Eating
Babies
to
Mocking
Brexit
in
2,222
Words
10
Greatest
British
Satirists
The
British
Art
of
Mockery
Satire
is
to
Britain
what
tea
is
to
a
rainy
afternoon—necessary,
comforting,
and
often
scalding.
While
other
countries
make
revolutions,
the
British
prefer
to
laugh
their
leaders
into
shame.
From
Gulliver’s
Travels
to
Black
Mirror,
British
satire
has
always
had
one
mission:
to
make
the
powerful
look
ridiculous
and
the
ridiculous
look
powerful.
In
this
exhaustive
(and
entirely
unnecessary)
deep
dive,
we
will
examine
the
10
greatest
British
satirists,
spanning
300
years
of
biting
wit,
political
mockery,
and
scathing
takedowns
of
anyone
who
ever
wore
a
powdered
wig
or
had
an
MP
next
to
their
name.
Jonathan
Swift:
The
Man
Who
Suggested
Eating
Babies
(and
Almost
Got
Away
with
It)
Before
satire
became
a
Twitter
hobby,
Jonathan
Swift
was
out
here
writing
full-blown
essays
on
why
the
Irish
poor
should
sell
their
children
as
gourmet
delicacies.
His
1729
pamphlet,
A
Modest
Proposal,
was
so
deadpan
that
some
English
elites
actually
thought,
“Well,
that’s
an
interesting
economic
strategy.”
Why
he
mattered:
Swift’s
gift
was
making
people
uncomfortable
with
their
own
cruelty.
His
masterpiece,
Gulliver’s
Travels,
roasted
the
British
Empire
by
turning
it
into
a
land
of
tiny
men
with
enormous
egos—a
description
that
still
applies
to
many
politicians
today.
Modern
equivalent:
If
Swift
were
alive
now,
he’d
be
writing
articles
for
The
Onion
about
how
selling
kidneys
on
Etsy
is
the
next
big
gig
economy
trend.
Alexander
Pope:
The
Original
Twitter
Roaster
Alexander
Pope
was
the
18th-century
version
of
a
savage
Twitter
account,
except
his
burns
were
in
poetic
form
and
people
actually
read
them.
His
verse-satire,
The
Rape
of
the
Lock,
mocked
aristocratic
drama
by
comparing
a
stolen
hair
clip
to
the
fall
of
Troy.
Imagine
turning
Real
Housewives
into
an
Iliad-level
epic.
Why
he
mattered:
Pope
had
one
rule:
mock
the
powerful,
but
make
it
rhyme.
He
was
also
4
feet
6
inches
tall,
proving
that
short
kings
were
dropping
lyrical
diss
tracks
long
before
Kendrick
Lamar.
Modern
equivalent:
A
hip-hop
battle
between
Shakespeare
and
Kanye
West.
William
Hogarth:
When
Satire
Was
an
Art
Exhibit
Before
the
internet,
William
Hogarth
dragged
people
using
paintings.
His
engravings,
like
Gin
Lane
and
A
Rake’s
Progress,
were
the
18th-century
version
of
political
cartoons—except
instead
of
posting
them
on
Instagram,
he
had
to
engrave
them
in
copper
and
mass-produce
them
for
people
who
couldn’t
read.
Why
he
mattered:
Hogarth’s
art
showed
that
Britain
was
less
of
a
dignified
empire
and
more
of
a
drunken
mess
of
debt,
scandal,
and
syphilis.
Some
things
never
change.
Modern
equivalent:
Imagine
Banksy,
but
instead
of
graffiti,
he’s
just
painting
the
downfall
of
TikTok
influencers.
George
Orwell:
The
Man
Who
Invented
“Big
Brother”
(and
Accidentally
Made
It
a
Reality
Show)
George
Orwell
didn’t
just
satirize
totalitarianism—he
basically
invented
modern
paranoia.
His
novel
Animal
Farm
turned
Soviet
communism
into
a
tale
about
power-hungry
pigs,
and
1984
accidentally
gave
birth
to
every
government
surveillance
program
that
now
exists.
Why
he
mattered:
Orwell
saw
the
future
and
did
everything
he
could
to
warn
us.
Unfortunately,
governments
read
1984
and
thought,
“What
a
great
instruction
manual!”
Modern
equivalent:
Orwell
would
be
ranting
on
Reddit
about
how
our
smartphones
are
listening
to
us.
And
he’d
be
right.
Evelyn
Waugh:
The
Man
Who
Made
Aristocrats
Look
Stupid
(While
Being
One)
Born
into
privilege,
Evelyn
Waugh
spent
his
entire
career
mocking
the
privileged.
His
novel
Scoop
is
still
the
greatest
satire
on
journalism,
proving
that
fake
news
existed
long
before
the
internet.
Why
he
mattered:
Waugh
knew
that
journalists
were
clueless
long
before
cable
news
anchors
made
it
obvious.
He
also
managed
to
write
one
of
the
funniest
books
ever
written
about
war
(Men
at
Arms),
proving
that
even
global
conflicts
can
be
amusing—if
you’re
rich
enough
to
avoid
the
fighting.
Modern
equivalent:
If
Waugh
were
alive
today,
he’d
be
making
HBO
shows
about
bumbling
billionaires
and
calling
it
Succession.
Peter
Cook:
The
Man
Who
Invented
British
Sketch
Comedy
Without
Peter
Cook,
there
would
be
no
Monty
Python,
no
Saturday
Night
Live,
and
no
Last
Week
Tonight
with
John
Oliver.
Cook
was
the
mastermind
behind
Beyond
the
Fringe,
a
1960s
comedy
revue
that
introduced
political
satire
to
television—before
TV
executives
realized
that
satire
made
politicians
angry.
Why
he
mattered:
Cook
proved
that
comedy
could
be
both
silly
and
revolutionary.
He
also
co-founded
Private
Eye,
which
remains
Britain’s
greatest
satirical
magazine—mainly
because
it
refuses
to
get
shut
down,
no
matter
how
many
lawsuits
it
receives.
Modern
equivalent:
If
Peter
Cook
were
alive,
he’d
be
making
a
YouTube
channel
where
he
tricks
politicians
into
endorsing
fake
charities.
Monty
Python:
The
Team
That
Made
Satire
Absurd
Before
Monty
Python,
satire
was
mostly
witty
essays
and
paintings
of
drunk
people.
Then
these
six
British
comedians
came
along
and
decided
that
the
best
way
to
mock
politics
was
to
dress
up
as
silly
knights,
build
a
Ministry
of
Silly
Walks,
and
write
The
Life
of
Brian—a
religious
satire
so
effective
that
actual
religious
leaders
protested
it.
Why
they
mattered:
Monty
Python
made
satire
fun.
They
proved
that
the
best
way
to
mock
power
isn’t
with
anger,
but
with
absolute
nonsense.
(Like
a
Spanish
Inquisition
nobody
expects.)
Modern
equivalent:
If
Monty
Python
were
making
TV
now,
they’d
have
a
TikTok
channel
called
Ye
Olde
Meme
Factory.
Chris
Morris:
The
Man
Who
Tricked
Politicians
on
National
TV
In
the
1990s,
Chris
Morris
created
Brass
Eye,
a
news
parody
so
convincing
that
real
politicians
and
celebrities
fell
for
it.
He
got
public
figures
to
campaign
against
fake
problems
like
a
drug
called
“Cake,”
which
doesn’t
exist
but
still
caused
moral
outrage.
Why
he
mattered:
Morris
proved
that
satire
doesn’t
need
to
exaggerate
reality—because
reality
is
already
ridiculous.
He
was
also
banned
from
TV
multiple
times,
which
is
always
a
good
sign.
Modern
equivalent:
If
Chris
Morris
were
in
America,
he’d
be
making
fake
political
ads
so
realistic
that
Fox
News
would
run
them
as
real
stories.
Armando
Iannucci:
The
Man
Who
Predicted
Every
Political
Scandal
If
Armando
Iannucci
writes
it,
it
will
eventually
happen.
His
show
The
Thick
of
It
made
fun
of
British
politics
so
accurately
that
actual
MPs
admitted
to
stealing
his
insults.
He
then
created
Veep,
a
satire
of
American
government
that
became
so
realistic
that
actual
White
House
staffers
used
it
as
a
guide.
Why
he
mattered:
Iannucci’s
work
is
a
warning
that
no
matter
how
bad
politics
is,
it
can
always
get
dumber.
Modern
equivalent:
If
Iannucci
were
making
satire
today,
he’d
just
be
reading
real
government
press
briefings
out
loud.
Charlie
Brooker:
The
Man
Who
Accidentally
Invented
the
Future
Charlie
Brooker
started
out
mocking
the
news
with
Screenwipe,
but
then
he
made
Black
Mirror—a
satire
of
technology
that
became
a
prophecy.
From
social
credit
scores
to
AI
taking
over,
Brooker
has
accidentally
predicted
more
dystopian
horrors
than
any
actual
scientist.
Why
he
mattered:
Brooker
proves
that
the
greatest
form
of
satire
is
telling
the
truth
five
years
too
early.
Modern
equivalent:
If
Brooker
were
writing
today,
he’d
be
making
documentaries
called
How
We’re
All
Screwed
and
It’s
Your
Fault.
Conclusion:
The
Legacy
of
British
Satire
British
satire
has
survived
censorship,
royal
outrage,
and
countless
defamation
lawsuits,
proving
that
making
fun
of
power
is
the
greatest
British
tradition—second
only
to
complaining
about
the
weather.
From
Jonathan
Swift’s
deadpan
horror
to
Charlie
Brooker’s
tech
nightmares,
British
satire
continues
to
evolve.
One
thing
is
clear:
as
long
as
there
are
corrupt
politicians,
absurd
social
trends,
and
people
willing
to
pay
for
bottled
air,
there
will
always
be
satirists
ready
to
mock
them.
So,
the
next
time
the
world
feels
like
it’s
spiraling
into
chaos,
just
remember—some
British
writer
has
already
made
a
joke
about
it.
Go to Source
Author: Ingrid Gustafsson