I hear (or imagine I hear) the clamour.
Amanda – PLEASE – you do it. You become Prime
Minister. For goodness sake. Save us. Become Tory PM and call an election.
Replace rubbish, risible, ridiculous Rishi.
Alright – I’m not an MP – but then neither is David
Cameron and he is Foreign Sec. Pretty important in the current climate. And on
the plus side, I didn’t bring the country to its knees with austerity or fuck
up by holding an EU referendum to try to sort the problems in the Tory party - so
that is score 1 to me.
I don’t have time to practice being racist and
bigoted so you’d have to do without that but frankly would one less person
being a total Tory turd even be noticed as those left at the bottom of the
Conservative barrel scrap it out to see who can be the worst sort of person
imaginable.
Having a sense of human responsibility probably also
rules me out. You only have to listen to Tories and their media mouth-pieces
talking about the success or failure of the miserable, mean, misanthropic
Rwanda scheme as if it’s simply about point scoring now rather than anything to
do with actual human lives - to know that.
But I’m only talking about being PM in order to call
an election.
Tory back room chunter is apparently all about Penny
Mordaunt’s chances but I saw a clip of her at the coronation. She’s clearly off
her nut.
Nor do I have any rich mates who I could give contracts
to so they can profit from a deadly global disease or from all the companies
that have been privatised. Also – I can’t imagine sanctioning multi-million
pound contracts to some bastard racist
just because he bunged the party a few quid but I’d happily give government
money to – oh I dunno – the NHS or help for affordable housing, or schools or
to repair roads or other mad crazy wild stuff like that.
It would only be for a few weeks and I might quite
enjoy it. Apparently you get to take pointless trips in helicopters and when
polling is dire you pop over for a photo op with that Ukrainian comedian.
Mainly – the competence bar is so catastrophically,
unbelievably low now that as long as I wasn’t caught eating cat turds out of
the gutter while singing La Marseillaise out of tune in a hailstorm – surely
I’d be the best leader the Tories have had in a very very long time…
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