Scene: A blasted Heathrow. Enter Boris, Caino, a lackey, and various hangers-on.
What country, friends, is this?
Thy constituency, boss.
Ah yes, I see that now you mention it.
I have in mind to seek a greater prize.
This island kingdom could I think be mine.
Its ruler weak, its Parliament split,
A chance I see for me to glory find.
But boss recall thy last attempt at pow’r.
The traitor Gove did knife thee in the front,
Then self-destruct and clear the way for May.
Yes, that was grim.
You need a bigger team.
Perhaps yon band of hardy warriors
Might fight beside thee in this hour of peril
Enter Steve Baker, Mark Francois and various rude mechanicals.
We are the Spartans, Sir, and we do seek
A champion for our cause of Brexit True.
We’ve fought for many a month to chuck Chequers,
But what to do instead we’ve not a clue.
What fine fellows you are, that I can see,
And leadership is just the stuff I’ve got.
Fall in behind my band and we will fight
To leave the customs union and what-not.
Agreed! We’ll join your cause and on the way
Perhaps you’d read my thoughts on cash and gold.
Yes, yes, whatever, stick them on the pile.
I’ll take a look when glory we have won.
When sit we on the throne enjoying booze.
In my army we did not train to lose.
Enter Carrie, the Lady of the Comms.
I’ll be right with you chaps in just a sec.
I must have words with yon fair damsel first.
Oh please not Carrie boss, she is the worst.
Scene: An Islington study. A huge poster of Otto von Bismarck fills one wall. Enter Boris, Caino and Dom, a Seer.
Are you the Classic Dom of whom they speak?
Who hath them all right where he wanteth them?
I am. What is your desire? Speak plainly now, for I have much to blog. I’m setting out my thoughts on Von Neumann, and applications of his quantum theories to the world of Paw Patrol. Also, I need to clean my OODA loops.
I see you are a man of many plans,
Whereas I myself have really none.
I’ve won the throne I sought and now I find
I’ve not a scooby what is to be done.
Fine, I’ll come and rescue your pathetic little country. But I want to hire a bunch of supersoothsayers, open a skunkworks and build a NASA-style mission control with a huge statue of me in one corner.
At last I have a genius by my side.
His brain will match my ready charm and wits
I see no way this glorious partnership
Could leave us looking like a pair of
Scene: A bedroom in Downing Street. Enter Boris and Carrie.
Now Bozzie Bear, this flat is just the pits,
The curtains and the furniture so beige.
John Lewis makes me wake in screaming fits
I need a bit of cash to end my gripes.
Sure, sure, how much?
A hundred thou.
Scene: The Cabinet Room. Enter Boris, Caino, Rishi, the Treasurer, and Chopper, a teller of tales.
Behold, election won and Brexit done.
And now it’s time to build a legacy.
What fellow’s this?
Tis Chopper, a cheerful scribe.
My readers wish to hear your plans to make
Our country great.
A bridge to France!
And more! To Ireland too a bridge we’ll build,
Or tunnel, I’m not sure.
What will this cost?
We’ll find the cash. Just raise a tax or two.
A royal yacht?
My editors will love this stuff.
I must away to file.
Exit Chopper. Enter Dom.
Enter Sonic, a lackey.
Fetch me the leeches Whitty and Vallance! Summon Cobra! Get that useless lump Hancock in here! And somebody find me a map of China! Where the hell is Wuhan?
I’m shaking hands all round and yet I feel
Distinctly not OK. No taste or smell.
A new persistent cough is bugging me.
Folks, I’m afraid to say I am not well.
Exit Boris. Enter Whitty, a physic, and Vallance, an apothecary
Plague sweeps the land, the Thane lies sick.
I must assess the multiple branching futures of this crisis. General Groves would demand action, without being hampered by these useless mortals that surround me. There is too much to process. All the Spider-Mans are pointing at each other. My temperature rises. My eyes falter. I will away to my fortress of solitude. Barnard Castle is lovely this time of year.
Scene: A study in Downing Street. Enter Boris, and Reynolds, another lackey.
Strong as a bull! I’m back to my old self.
Now overflowing with antibodies
I’m the very model of public health
I wonder why I passed those lockdown laws
I wish I’d been the mayor out of Jaws.
Great news my liege! A time to take pleasure.
Pray step into the garden for a sec,
And make the most of the lovely weather.
I see my team assembled sipping wine
I’m sure they’d tell me if this were not fine.
Many would say a drink outside’s a perk,
But honestly, to me this feels like work.
Enjoying The Critic online? It's even better in print
Try five issues of Britain’s newest magazine for £10Subscribe