To anybody who still tries to parrot the tired old myth that the Conservative Party is somehow lacking in empathy for the commoners of Great Britain should prepare themselves for a big ole’ slice of humble pie, generously provided by our former Harridan-in-Chief Chairwoman May. In an attempt to alleviate the fears of the fifteen hundred (give or take) residents of Whaley Bridge, who have been forced to flee their homes, our current Eton-schoolboy-in-Chief took it upon himself to personally evaluate the situation.
After a rigorous seven hours or so in a dark broom cupboard with his (practically suicidal by this point) handlers, during which the poor sods had to point out Derbyshire on a map to the walking blonde bowl cut, as well as plead with the befuddled schoolboy to avoid any and all contact with any and all minority communities residing in the unfortunate county. This was done just in case he should put a blemish on the otherwise untarnished history of the Tories strong stance against racism.
Once all preparations had been made our current Eton-schoolboy-in-Chief took to the skies. Like a rather overweight version of Aslan, he stuck his head out of the helicopter’s window and commented in a surprisingly sombre tone: “I can see the problem (Bah!) It looks pretty scary”. To which the pilot responded: “That’s Manchester, sir”.
The Prime Minister nodded sagely at this new piece of information before proceeding to contemplate what he would have for supper once this business with the dam was sorted out. Perhaps he would get his wife to serve him a nice plump pheasant, doused in the blood of Syrian children and nicely stuffed with the hopes and dreams of working class families.
Whilst an RAF Chinook was busy dropping four hundred tonnes of aggregate on the dam in an attempt to both divert the water and shore up the crumbling barrier, our current Eton-schoolboy-in-Chief took the opportunity to visit the peasants.
As one distressed commoner informed the vacant eyed wannabe aristocrat that if the dam burst they would all be “wiped out”, the current Eton-schoolboy-in-Chief vaguely shook his floppy head and mumbled “We’ve gotta sort that out”. This appeared to please the peasants, as once cringing cuck-of-a commoner squeaked out in reply: “Exactly, yeah. Completely agree with you”.
As soon as our current Eton-schoolboy-in-Chief had successfully demonstrated the bare minimum amount of compassion towards the ragtag band of displaced peasants and potential voters, BoJo once again took to the skies to return to his ongoing quest of delivering Brexit…by which I mean there was a plump bit of pheasant with his name on it being prepared by his one true love (who was being supervised in the process by the Prime Minister’s wife).
Before he ascended into the heavens and away from Whaley Bridge like a particularly posh cloud of methane, our lord and saviour Boris “Let the Lion Roar” Johnson looked back over his fat shoulder to offer the unfortunate inhabitants of Whaley Bridge one last piece of comforting information.
“It looks dodgy, but stable” assured this middle-aged acolyte of mammon before promptly (and mercifully) sodding off. I believe that those were the exact words offered to him by his last barber and are most certainly the words destined to be engraved on the tomb of the Conservative Party in the next six months or so. Minus all that nonsense about “stability”, of course.
(The following is a piece of satire)