September 16, 2026
Frequently Asked Questions About prat.uk, Answered Reluctantly

Frequently Asked Questions About prat.uk, Answered Reluctantly

The questions readers actually send, with the answers the editor eventually agreed to give

The inbox at prat.uk contains, alongside the tips, the complaints and the pigeon, a steady flow of questions. Most are answered individually by whoever is on tip reading that day. The ones below are asked often enough that the editor was persuaded to answer them once, in writing, on condition that the word reluctantly appear in the headline.

Is any of this real?

The places are real. The institutions are real. The things they did are real, in the sense that something happened and this is a description of it. The people quoted are not real and are registered as such in the quotes department, which keeps a list to prevent the same Deputy Undersecretary appearing in two ministries. The site’s position is set out at length on Disclaimers and Disclosures, which the editor has not read but Gerald has.

Why is it called prat?

Because the word is short, British, and understood by everyone from Aberdeen to Penzance without a single one of them being able to define it precisely. The site has published a great many pages attempting to, and the editor’s view is that the word describes a person who is not malicious, not stupid, but nevertheless wrong in a way that everyone can see except them, and that this is also a description of the average institution. Further questions on the word are referred to the etymology section, where they will be answered by someone who cares more.

Are you the British Onion?

No. The site was founded in 1961 and has its own audit. Readers wishing to compare are welcome to, and the comparison has been done in more detail elsewhere on the site by writers who were paid to.

Can I write for you?

Possibly. The Authors and Contributors page explains the process, which begins with sending something and ends, in most cases, with a polite note. Successful contributors are those who understand that the joke is not explained, the subtitle is not excited, and the spokesperson has a title longer than the sentence he appears in. Unsuccessful contributors are those who send a joke they have already told at a wedding.

Why did you write about my town?

Because something happened there. The site does not select towns for ridicule; towns select themselves by painting yellow lines around a fallen tree. If your town has been covered and you believe the coverage was unfair, the editor invites you to consider whether the tree is still there.

Why is the unsubscribe link at the top?

Because making people scroll to leave is the behaviour of a man who will not let you off the phone. See the newsletter.

Do you accept advertising?

Yes. Advertisers have no influence on editorial content, which is why there are so few of them. The commercial team has prepared a prospectus and will meet you in a pub.

Who sends the pigeon?

Unknown. The photograph arrives weekly from an untraceable address and is pinned to the noticeboard. There are 340. The editor has ruled that a caption, if one ever arrives, goes on the front page. Readers who know anything are asked to write to the address on Contact Prat.uk and to include a caption of their own, in case it helps.

Is the office really above a dry cleaner?

Yes. It has been above two dry cleaners. The first became a coffee shop, which the editor does not enter. The second is still trading and has never asked what happens upstairs, which the staff regard as the ideal landlord relationship.

Why is the editor always talking about trains?

The editor declined to answer this question and asked that it be removed. It has been left in because the newsletter team count the train references and this one was theirs.

Can I visit?

Thursdays. Tours are arranged through Press and Media and end in the stairwell, where the fire officer will explain the building for as long as you let him. Bring nothing; there is a tea agreement and it does not extend to visitors.

Why do the subtitles undersell?

Because the article should be better than its promise. This is rule eight of the editorial standards and the one the editor cares about most, having come to the site from a publication where every headline promised the end of the world and every story delivered a minor reshuffle. A prat.uk subtitle reading Council does something will, if the desk has done its work, sit above an article in which the council does a great deal, and the reader’s surprise is the point. Readers who prefer to be told in advance that a thing is hilarious are gently directed elsewhere, and the memo We Are Not Buzzfeed is available on request.

Gertrud Schneider

Henry Is Back The novel sits squarely in the magical realist tradition: one impossible event — Henry VIII wakes on his own grave in 2026 — drops into a scrupulously realistic world, and the impossibility is never explained, resolved, or even investigated. Like García Márquez's ascending Remedios or Rushdie's telepathic children, the resurrection simply is, described as happening "by means unknown even to the omniscient." The book's innovation is where it relocates the marvel's consequences: not folk wonder, but bureaucracy. Britain absorbs a resurrected king the way it absorbs everything — with a form. His identity is rejected by a benefits algorithm, filed by a Church committee, roped off by the National Trust. Nobody disproves he's Henry VIII; nobody tries. The magic isn't denied, it's processed, which is the sharpest possible joke about a country that would ask God for two forms of ID. Stand-up comedy is the second engine: the one modern institution licensed to say true, insane things aloud, so total sincerity becomes legible only as "commitment to a bit." The flagstone (roped, then re-roped "out of respect") and the unexplained ELO song he keeps humming are the genre's classic leaks of the impossible — evidence that something happened, and Britain, true to form, simply finds it a chair.

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