‘Q’ of Qanon Fame Now On His Third Straight Day Of Drinking Gin In His Underpants Whilst Crying

Sitting in his underwear swigging from a gin bottle, the man the world knows as “Q” mumbles “I tried, I tried” before bursting into tears again. 

The secretive founder of the Qanon movement has barely moved from his bedroom since Saturday when Fox News called the 2020 US Presidential election for the man he knows all too well heads a Satanic trafficking ring that kidnaps children to steal their Adrenochrome glands for their secret sex parties with Bill Gates and an assortment of bankers who may or may not be Jewish.

“Q”, whose identity has never been revealed, exposed this evil cult among the elites via a series of highly obscure “leaks” directed at the cream of US society: angry incels on 8Chan living in their mother’s basement. From there, he spread the good news that the resistance had finally arrived, led by none other than President Donald J. Trump, a serial alleged rapist and frequently bankrupted tax fraud with a dead, orange-dyed badger on his head.

Against all odds, this strategy has failed. The Deep State has won — and to rub it in, every time “Q” turns on the news, there they are, tens of thousands of Deep State operatives, holding huge, joyous street parties to celebrate.

“What went wrong?”, Q keeps asking The (un)Australian, who he flatteringly calls “one of the few media outlets in the entire world outside their control” although it’s not clear why he keeps asking “which one of you is Chris Kenny?”

We try to cheer him up. It’s not over yet, we point out. The Trump campaign is launching legal challenges over electoral fraud.

“Q” looks up with hope in his bleary, tear-stained eyes and asks, “Really?”

Oh yes, we say, Rudy Giuliani even had a press conference outside Four Seasons in Philly to insist they’d not accept the fraud.

“The Four Seasons Hotel?” he asks, perking up noticeably.

No, we explain, Four Seasons Total Landscaping, a small business on the outskirts of the city, opposite the crematorium and next to an adult bookstore.

“Q” erupts into tears again, throwing the near empty gin bottle against the wall as glass showers the room. We let ourselves out.

Carlo Sands


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