The traditional way to start a coup is to shell the presidential palace from a gunboat, and take over the TV station. Since the Navy has been reduced to one aircraft carrier (with no aircraft) and a miniature submarine called “HMS Boaty McBoatface” I have to make do with Jacob Rees-Mogg.
I send Jakers to Balmoral by TARDIS to inform Her Maj of Her Maj’s duty to shut down Parliament. This is an ultra-normal request, which allows Parliament to do its job of remaining supine while I get on with Brexit. When he gets back he refuses to tell me what the Queen actually said on the grounds that someone in 1654 “hath no eyes to see nor tongue to speak”. But it hath all bene donne and dusted, so OK, thanks Jacob and back in your box.
Of course all the gibbering lefties, mincing moderates and whining wankers of Westminster are up in arms about it and clustering around the leaders of the Walking Dead – Hammond and a freshly risen John Major who was recently unearthed from an unkempt grave behind the Channel Four building in Horseferry Road.
I make what I considered to be a perfectly apt joke about them all behaving like a bunch of schoolgirls but Cummings takes me literally and begins sacking all female staff in Whitehall under the age of 25. At least, he says he’s sacking them, but Saj came round demanding to know where Sonia Khan had got to, not seen anything from Human Resources, just a very large policeman with a gun frog-marching his media advisor towards an enormous bonfire outside Cummings’ office.
I ask Dominic what’s going on. He mumbles something indistinct and then brightens up. “Everything will be fine, Prime Minister” he says. “When The Stars are Right.”
Pyramid of Piffle 