I’ve always been a huge fan of working class people. I admire their stamina, their ability to live in tiny council flats, and the cute way they struggle to pronounce “haute couture”. I like to think I understand them better than most people. I mean, I literally grew up with working class people. As a child, my French au pair was from one of the less affluent banlieues of Marseille.

In spite of the low infant mortality rate, working class families have a wonderful zest for life. Their hobbies are varied, but include visiting music halls, eating jellied eels and thieving. They tend to be more muscular than normal people, which is why they excel at menial tasks such as washing windows and bleeding radiators. All in all, they are a credit to our society.

I have been giving a great deal of thought to the issue of economic inequality ever since Boris Johnson promised to boost funding in the north of England. Recently I undertook some outreach work in a shanty town known as “Sheffield”. I even visited some homeless people to offer them a 4% discount on my book, because I feel that it’s important to do all I can to spread the message of intersectional feminist theory to those who need it most.

It soon became clear to me from the blank stares I encountered that we have a real difficulty with our electorate — something that was made perfectly clear from the Brexit vote and the bewildering result in the general election. 

I’ve written to Gina Miller to suggest that she initiate a challenge in the courts against the Representation of the People Act 1918, when universal suffrage was first established. If she were successful, we could retrospectively cancel all working class votes. This would mean we are legally still members of the European Union and Boris would be forced to stand down. It’s a flawless scheme. 

Ultimately, however, one must take the charitable view. We shouldn’t blame the poor for their wrong opinions. If they could afford to subscribe to the Guardian, they’d doubtless be much more enlightened.